I pride myself on my honesty and integrity - you can call me anything you like, except a liar, as lying is something I never do. I may withhold information, so as not to cause offence, by not responding directly - for example if someone asked me if I thought they were beautiful, and I didn't, I would fudge a response, so I wouldn't tell them a lie, or change the subject, or simply not respond directly. Similarly if I do something wrong I will always own up to it, take responsibility for my actions, and not try and blame anyone else.
When I was at boarding school smoking was forbidden, but I, and others (and I know this included prefects who upheld the "law"), used to sneak off for illicit sessions. I was never caught directly with cigarettes on me, or actually smoking, but on 2 occasions while returning I was accosted by a prefect and asked directly "have you been smoking?" (note, this is not "where have you been?" which I could respond honestly without admitting any guilt) and I immediately admitted that I had. On one occasion the other boy with me denied he had smoked and got off scot-free, while I was severely punished (and the prefect later told me that he was the one they were really after, but his denial meant they could not take further action as all they had was suspicion!), but that didn't stop me from admitting a similar offence a year later, again when asked if I had been smoking, when denial would have gotten me off, but would have been lying!
The young friend who has looked after my house 4 times now, and who I have known for 8 years, though, is the real subject of this post. Lying seems to come easily to people here - from when they will turn up, to denial they did things (when you saw them do it!), and just generally telling you what they think you want to hear. Most are "little" lies - saying they will come at 10.00 and then arriving at 12.00 (timekeeping is a big issue in all Latin countries!), but swearing blind (including swearing on your mother's life, or crying) that you didn't break something when you were seen, or there could be no-one else to blame (as you were the only person there or using that item) is somewhat different.
This year the "friend" had a drug-induced breakdown and did some damage to my house, stole some items, and "borrowed" others - but it is the subsequent lying about some of the details that I am finding very hard to come to terms with.
He lost a set of house keys (the second time he has done this) and told me in a message that this happened just 2 weeks before my return, from a 6 month absence, though later I found out that it happened less than a month into my absence! He told me a story, which he repeated often, about where he lost the keys, though the keys turned up in my neighbour's garden, a long way from where they were "lost", but he had no explanation for that, and told me his story, oft repeated, about losing them in town had been a "joke"! A couple of days ago he told me he thought he was being chased (paranoia from the drug psychosis) so jumped over the fence, and must have lost the keys then, and this was just after I left.
My front door was smashed in - his sister told me he had put a pan on the stove and fallen asleep so the family had to break in to "save" him. I know this to be a lie as he told me he went out after putting the pan on, so he wasn't in the house in any danger (no fire or smoke damage either!), but in fact they had to break in as he had lost the keys! So his sister is also complicit in the lies. A pan was damaged, too, so badly burnt that the double base was destroyed!
He told me he had used some of my clothes as he had nothing to wear, but had washed them and replaced them. however I was looking for a shirt and asked him about it (he had moved things of mine all over) and he admitted he had it and would return it, which he did along with some other shirts. I asked if that was everything and he swore it was, but a few days later I couldn't find a book (one of a 7 part series), and he admitted he had that too, and returned it with some more clothing! Again he swore that he had nothing else, but then he posts a selfie on Facebook wearing a hoodie of mine (given to me by a friend in Iowa), and when I take him to task about that he returns it and even more shirts and shorts! Again he swears blind that he no longer has any of my things.
He, his sister and his mother have all assured me that they will repay for all the damages and losses I have incurred, but it is now over 5 months since I returned and I have seen nothing, not had any indications of when the repayment might begin.
He came round to my house two days ago as though nothing has happened (had not seen him or heard from him in over 2 months) expecting to be invited in, which I refused, telling him he had to regain my trust and friendship first. I told him that what hurt me almost as much as the thefts and damages, were the lies he has been telling me, as you should not treat a friend like that. He asked "what lies?" - so I pointed out specifically the ones about the things he "borrowed" and the lost keys. He said I had all things he had "borrowed" (as opposed to those he had sold!) back, so what was the problem, and though I pointed out the numerous times he swore he had nothing more and then when I found he had, he didn't seem to think the lies mattered as I got it all back!! Similarly with the keys, he said he was trying to explain how he lost them - by lying about it! I pointed out that he lied time and again, and then said the "story" was a joke, and wouldn't even tell me the truth when the keys were found nearby - it was at this stage he admitted jumping the fence to run away from an imaginary attacker!
I told him that in all the years we had been "friends" I had never lied to him about anything, something he acknowledged, but that I was having trouble accepting his continual lying - and that he had a lot of work to do to convince me I should forgive all and accept him back as a friend. He told me he "needed" me as a friend, as I meant so much to him, not least as a father figure, so I asked him why I "needed" him, if all he did was lie and take from me? He left avowing to regain my trust and friendship, but unless he can accept responsibility for his actions personally, and stop lying to me, I am not sure that it will ever happen.
Circumstances made me move to Brazil in 2009, and I spent 6 months of the year there, and the remaining time in Peru, until 2020 when the Covid hit, trapping me in Peru for 14 months, before I managed to return to the UK, where I now reside permanently. I see the world through slightly rose-tinted glasses, but maybe because I have been fortunate in not suffering too many hardships along the way, and maintaining an optimistic, but realistic outlook on life.
Sunday, 4 February 2018
Thursday, 1 February 2018
Seeing a doctor about a rash.
Aaround 6 years ago - I got a really bad rash on my lower left leg, which was painful, almost purple in colour, with the skin very dry and it appeared to be spreading. I went to our hospital here - which doesn't have an A&E - signed in and was asked to wait. This was just after 8 in the morning ... and I eventually saw the doctor at 4.00pm! There was a Dengue epidemic at the time, so I realised my problem was possibly not as life-threatening, and as it was my first visit to the hospital I wasn't sure if this was the norm!
When I finally got in the young doctor was very apologetic - he knew I had been waiting hours, and explained that he was the only doctor, with two nurses, for a population of around 10,000, funding was terrible, and he, in fact, hadn't been paid for months! He had a look at my leg and said he thought I should go and see a dermatologist in Seabra, some 70kms (40miles) away, but prescribed some cream. Next day I drove to Seabra, only to find that the dermatologist only holds a clinic twice a month, and the next one is 10 days away! I try to make an appointment but they tell me to just turn up on the day.
The rash spreads a little and also appears on my left arm, but not so bad, but by the time the clinic day arrives it is somewhat improved. I drive again to Seabra arriving just before 9.00am, and take a ticket - the ticket is just to be checked in at reception - so take a seat. After about 90 minutes my number is called, so I register, pay the R$300 (at the time about £75) consultation fee, and am told to come back at 11.30! I go and wander round Seabra for a couple of hours and come back and am told to take a seat again and my name will be called.Around 2.00pm I am called and see the dermatologist. He looks carefully at the rashes and tells me he thinks I should have some blood tests and come back again, but gives me a prescription for some more cream! I did tell him I had done some work in my garden and wondered if it was a plant allergy, something like poison ivy.
He gave me a piece of paper with a list of the tests he wants me to have done, so I take that to the local testing clinic back home and they tell me these will cost R$380 (£95), so I have some blood taken, and give them a urine sample, and wait for the results to come back - about 5 days. I then have to wait for the next dermatologist clinic, during which time my left leg heals, but I get another smaller rash on the right leg, and also some irritation on my right arm.
Clinic day and I head for Seabra, earlier than before so I arrive there at 8.15 (they open at 8.00) and the place is heaving! I take a number and this time it takes 90 minutes to get processed! When I am finally called my appointment is at .... 4.00pm! So I go home - rather than spend over 6 hours in Seabra. I am back there at 3.30 and am told to take a seat in a different waiting area, but that he is running a "little late". It was 7.30 before I get called in! He looks at the test result, looks again at my (by now much improved) arm and leg, and proceeds to tell me I have "sun insensitivity"! As I drive that it why it was worst on my left arm (left hand drive here) and leg! I explain that I only drive my car to come to Seabra, and in the intervening period I use a motorbike, so surely this "insensitivity" would manifest itself in other areas of my body - and that I felt, as I explained before, that it was possibly caused by a "poison ivy" type of plant in my garden that I was allergic to?
He repeated that it was a sun sensitivity and that I should cover up in the sun, and use SPF80 sunscreen all the time! Then said if it got any worse I should come and see him again! I finally got home around 9.00pm!
Fortunately I have not had the problem since, but am still not at all convinced it was caused by exposure to the sun - and I do not cover myself in factor 80 every time I go out - but I did learn a lot about the state of the Brazilian medical system - and that time is relative here!!
When I finally got in the young doctor was very apologetic - he knew I had been waiting hours, and explained that he was the only doctor, with two nurses, for a population of around 10,000, funding was terrible, and he, in fact, hadn't been paid for months! He had a look at my leg and said he thought I should go and see a dermatologist in Seabra, some 70kms (40miles) away, but prescribed some cream. Next day I drove to Seabra, only to find that the dermatologist only holds a clinic twice a month, and the next one is 10 days away! I try to make an appointment but they tell me to just turn up on the day.
The rash spreads a little and also appears on my left arm, but not so bad, but by the time the clinic day arrives it is somewhat improved. I drive again to Seabra arriving just before 9.00am, and take a ticket - the ticket is just to be checked in at reception - so take a seat. After about 90 minutes my number is called, so I register, pay the R$300 (at the time about £75) consultation fee, and am told to come back at 11.30! I go and wander round Seabra for a couple of hours and come back and am told to take a seat again and my name will be called.Around 2.00pm I am called and see the dermatologist. He looks carefully at the rashes and tells me he thinks I should have some blood tests and come back again, but gives me a prescription for some more cream! I did tell him I had done some work in my garden and wondered if it was a plant allergy, something like poison ivy.
He gave me a piece of paper with a list of the tests he wants me to have done, so I take that to the local testing clinic back home and they tell me these will cost R$380 (£95), so I have some blood taken, and give them a urine sample, and wait for the results to come back - about 5 days. I then have to wait for the next dermatologist clinic, during which time my left leg heals, but I get another smaller rash on the right leg, and also some irritation on my right arm.
Clinic day and I head for Seabra, earlier than before so I arrive there at 8.15 (they open at 8.00) and the place is heaving! I take a number and this time it takes 90 minutes to get processed! When I am finally called my appointment is at .... 4.00pm! So I go home - rather than spend over 6 hours in Seabra. I am back there at 3.30 and am told to take a seat in a different waiting area, but that he is running a "little late". It was 7.30 before I get called in! He looks at the test result, looks again at my (by now much improved) arm and leg, and proceeds to tell me I have "sun insensitivity"! As I drive that it why it was worst on my left arm (left hand drive here) and leg! I explain that I only drive my car to come to Seabra, and in the intervening period I use a motorbike, so surely this "insensitivity" would manifest itself in other areas of my body - and that I felt, as I explained before, that it was possibly caused by a "poison ivy" type of plant in my garden that I was allergic to?
He repeated that it was a sun sensitivity and that I should cover up in the sun, and use SPF80 sunscreen all the time! Then said if it got any worse I should come and see him again! I finally got home around 9.00pm!
Fortunately I have not had the problem since, but am still not at all convinced it was caused by exposure to the sun - and I do not cover myself in factor 80 every time I go out - but I did learn a lot about the state of the Brazilian medical system - and that time is relative here!!
Wednesday, 24 January 2018
Lobitos, Peru
It is a while since I have done a long road trip in Peru, though I am hopeful that this year I will reacquaint my buttocks with the rather uncomfortable bike seat on Oli over long distances.
2 years ago I headed North again, with the charming town of Zorritos as my destination, and during my stay went again to Puerto Pizarro, a beautiful fishing village not far from the Ecuador border.
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| Puerto Pizarro |
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| Ceviche for lunch in Cabo Blanco |
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| Typical fishing boat of Cabo Blanco |
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| The view from my lunch spot - with Oli centre stage |
I finally reached Lobitos and set about looking for the hostel - it appeared there were 2 part to the town - and I could only find one road linking the two (though I found later than many locals use a concrete storm drain to drive between the two halves as it is quicker than the road!) so followed the map to where it stated the hostel was - and there was nothing there! I went a little further and asked someone and they directed me back about a kilometre, but I still couldn't see any hostels, or anything resembling one. By now I had been in the saddle for over 4 hours so not in the best humour and the booking confirmation didn't have a phone number either. I went back to the other half of town, which seemed busier and asked there, and was directed back where I had been, but took a road I had not been on before and spotted a small sign pointing to a hostel, which I thought was the one I was looking for, so I turned in and asked about my reservation.The lady there didn't question anything but showed me to a dorm room - so I explained I had booked a single en-suite, so she told me she would get it ready if I would wait as it needed cleaning. So I settled down to wait in a hammock.
When I eventually got in it was a dorm room, but with only me in it - and it had an en-suite, which I found out later was the only room there that did - the others shared an outdoor toilet block. It was only later when I went for a walk that I came across the hostel I was supposed to be in - which was only a few minutes away - so I went in to cancel and explain how the map led you nowhere near the place (I showed him the map and he agreed!), so they agreed to waive the cancellation fee. Then I had to go back and eat humble pie at the place I was staying! They must have thought I was a crazy person arriving and demanding my room, which they knew nothing about - though in my defence at no time did they tell me they had no clue what I was talking about, but simply prepared a room for me! They were OK about it, though, and I ended up having a great stay there.
When I eventually got in it was a dorm room, but with only me in it - and it had an en-suite, which I found out later was the only room there that did - the others shared an outdoor toilet block. It was only later when I went for a walk that I came across the hostel I was supposed to be in - which was only a few minutes away - so I went in to cancel and explain how the map led you nowhere near the place (I showed him the map and he agreed!), so they agreed to waive the cancellation fee. Then I had to go back and eat humble pie at the place I was staying! They must have thought I was a crazy person arriving and demanding my room, which they knew nothing about - though in my defence at no time did they tell me they had no clue what I was talking about, but simply prepared a room for me! They were OK about it, though, and I ended up having a great stay there.
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| Sunset from viewing deck at the hostel |
The next morning I intended to do some exploring round the area on my bike, with a view to getting some fishing done, but discovered I had a flat tyre - not totally flat at this stage, but needing air - so asked the lady if there was a garage in Lobitos. The closest was in Talara, some 25 kms away but she was sure if I went back to the upper town I would find someone with a pump! The main square, where the bus stops, had several people about so I asked there and they told me there was guy at the other side of the square who had an airline, so I went there, but the connector was too straight to fit on my bike (designed for cars!) so he sent me back where he said there was someone with a stirrup pump! He wasn't around but someone went off and came back with a pump and pumped my tyre up, so I rode down to the fishing pier to have a look round.
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| Lobitos pier |
When I had arrived I mentioned I was interested in doing some fishing and Nacho told me if I wanted he could arrange a trip out Sunday morning with a local fishing boat!! Was I interested? I was ecstatic! Early Sunday morning the captain arrived in a mototaxi and we headed to the pier, where he got a lift out to his boat and brought it alongside -
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| This was to be our boat |
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| Soon land was far behind us! |
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| Soon the box was filling with fish! |
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| Seals on an old gas platform |
I eventually only got my bike back late Sunday, and never did find out exactly what the problem was as the guy had been and gone again (apparently he works in Talara, so spends much of his time dealing with tyre emergencies there), but the tyre gave no more problems the rest of the journey home.
Sunday night I had one of Nacho's famous pizzas, and I can vouch for the fact that it was possibly the best one I have ever eaten!
Monday morning I set off for Piura, the next stop on my trip home - I have stayed in Piura 4 times now, in the same hotel, which is conveniently located not far off the Panamerican Highway, but also close to the centre of Piura and good eating places. My stay in Lobitos was extremely pleasant, and the fact that I went to the wrong hostel was instrumental in the opportunity to fish from a small boat in the Pacific Ocean!
Monday, 18 December 2017
House hunting in Brazil
When I first decided to come to Brazil as a volunteer for 2 years I had plenty of time to make plans - though in the end I moved to Brazil 8 months before my volunteer visa came through, staying on a "tourist" visa. This visa still allowed a foreigner (Gringo) to buy a house so didn't hold my plans up at all.
I had considered renting, but felt that as it was going to be for 2 years, and I was still hopeful of getting permanent status, I should maybe buy instead. I had been in contact with the charity head and she told me it was easy to buy as a foreigner (she herself had done that when she first moved there) and there was a lot of cheap housing to be found. In fact while searching online I had found an advert for a small house, fairly close to the charity, for sale by an British man, which sounded pretty much what I was looking for. I contacted him asking about it - he was in the UK at the time - and he appeared surprised that his house was for sale! I sent him the link to the advert, and he admitted that a friend was dealing with this for him - but when I showed considerable interest he started prevaricating about the price! He wouldn't give me a straight answer about how much the selling price was, but kept saying that he thought the advertised price was "probably too low"! So I told him to contact me when he had made his mind up about the final price, but that I was prepared to pay in UK pounds, which was better for both of us! He did tell me, however, that a friend in Brazil had the keys, was looking after the house and could show me it when I got there. I did rather lose interest in it at this point!
I did manage to find a small place to rent prior to my arrival, but only for a month as it was booked by someone else for Christmas, which was just over a month after my arrival. When I reached Brazil I contacted the charity head straight away, and we talked about buying a house - and she knew the man selling the house (he was a woodworking artist and had done some work for her), and who was holding the keys! So she called Muzenza, a young Brazilian man, and he came round to meet me. He would help me find a house as he knew all the places for sale, he told me, and we could meet up later for dinner and talk things over.
He arrived at the agreed restaurant with a young lady with him - he was looking after a property, for another British man, which was being converted into holiday accommodation, and she was staying in one of the rooms there. He said that we could start house hunting in the morning, so we just chatted about living in this town, and other generalities. He drank rather a lot during the meal, and afterwards sampled a selection of flavoured Cachaças on offer in their bar (which he paid for !), and before we parted he suggested that on the morrow we go on a trip out of town to see some of the sights in the National Park, rather than house-hunting, and he brings the young lady along as she is a tourist too.
I went back to my bedsit, but an hour later there is a knock on the door - it is Muzenza! He informs me that he realises he is probably too drunk to manage the trip in the morning, but suggests we meet up after lunch, at the place he is looking after, and we can start house-hunting. I arrive a little before time, am let in through the big gates, only to be told that he has not yet got up today! So I go for a wander round the extensive grounds of this property and then sit in the communal area/dining room for around 90 minutes, while waiting, and he still doesn't appear! I leave a message with my number and leave.
He calls later all apologetic - saying he was more drunk that he thought, and had to sleep it off, but would I come around the next morning at 9.00 and we could start looking. Again I was there on time, and again no sign of him! I waited an hour, and then abandoned that idea completely - and since then I have bumped into him a couple of times in town, but other than that we have had no contact!
The following day I went to see the only Real Estate agent in town - the same place I had used to book the bedsit I was now staying in. I explained what I was looking for (she already knew where I was volunteering) and she grabbed a handful of folders and we set off on foot (I had hired a car but we didn't need it as everything was so close!). We looked at a variety of different properties in and around the centre of town - some needing quite a bit of work (mainly woodworm or termites by the look of it!), but none really suitable as none had any parking space (and the streets nearby too narrow to realistically be an option), none had any outdoor space (yard or garden), and every one had issues with the legal title!
This is apparently a very common problem in rural Brazil, where "laws" are often ignored or stretched, but I felt that, as a foreigner, I needed to be 100% certain I was buying a property that was going to be "mine"! Many of the issues surrounded inheritance - a landowner had passed away intestate (who in Brazil has a formal will?) so the oldest child sells the property, then one of the other siblings claims it and also sells it - to someone else - and the spouse then does the same, or a brother, or a parent! So we end up with several people buying the same property, none having legal title, and legal disputes that go on for decades! There is a property opposite where I finally bought that has been walled off, by the purchaser who then found out it was under litigation, and 8 years later no further work has been done, and no resolution is in sight!
I did find a nice modern 2 storey property very close to the charity - it was split into two dwellings, with the upper one very spacious, including a mezzanine floor bedroom and great views, and the ground floor suitable for renting out - but the "lane" outside to rocky and rough for parking close by, and the nearest suitable place to park a vehicle at least 100 metres away, and not secure! In addition the "owner" had inherited the property from her aunt who had recently passed away - there was legal title to it BUT she was going through a divorce and her husband was claiming part ownership, so it would not be possible to get legal title transfer until the divorce was finalised or until they cane to some agreement over the property (the wife was adamant the husband had no right to any of it!), which could take years - so I passed on that one, too.
So day one ended with nothing suitable - prices were very good, but I did wonder how much of that was due to the title uncertainties, though I was assured that this wasn't the case, and lack of title shouldn't be a problem! I also didn't get good vibes from any of them - not sure if anyone else has experienced this, but I always get a feeling if a house is going to be a good "home"!
Day two the realtor sent me a little further afield with her assistant, and the first two properties I was shown were part-builds, which means they had walls, but no roof! I explained that I needed somewhere I could move into immediately and live in (I had about 3 weeks left on my bedsit rental before I had to move out for another tenant!), so that meant that three other properties on her list were also no good - one was a bare plot! Thee next was another two storey house - the ground floor was complete and beautifully finished, but the upper floor - which had spectacular views - was only half finished. It would have made a great purchase had I wished to rent out half the building, but I wanted to retain the views, and the top floor was not only unfinished, but also much smaller - and it was the most expensive property I had seen, by a long way!
The final one on her list in this area (she told me there were others to see in other suburbs), was a 4 bed-roomed house on a large plot with a garden. I was reluctant to even look at it as it was far too big for my needs, but the price was very reasonable, and she insisted that I would be impressed, especially as it had full legal title! Inside it was a mess as it had been unoccupied for some time, and there were a couple of pieces of broken furniture abandoned inside - a large insect screen was in tatters, and mail had been shoved through it scattering all over the floor. She ushered me to the kitchen window and the view was spectacular - looking Southwards across the National Park.
I was impressed, but still couldn't get over the fact it was a big 4 bed-roomed house, when all I needed was something smaller - so we headed back to the office. The owner was dealing with someone else, so I was left to think things over - and was mulling over my options (including looking at more properties, but I was led to believe I had already seen the best they had on the books) when I heard someone asking about renting the last property. The assistant replied that it was available at the moment, but that she thought I might be interested in buying it - it took me about two minutes to decide to make an offer!!
As I was a cash buyer this helped to speed up the process - though I did have to arrange a 50% deposit through my UK bank to the vendor who lived in Sao Paulo - and the realtor dealt with the initial paperwork. The vendor's daughter lived locally and she was given power of attorney to sign on her father's behalf, so we both went first to the local council for a document stating that all taxes were paid, then to the Forum, which is where all legal matters are dealt with. She had to sign a couple of documents, and I had to countersign, and sign others - then it was a case of waiting 15 days, which I took to being a fortnight, but was 15 "working days" so three weeks! This would take us into Christmas and past the date I had to vacate the bedsit. I was worried about how I could furnish the place as there was nowhere in my town that sold furnishings, so I would have to buy elsewhere and get it delivered, but I managed to get permission to have it delivered directly to the house before the paperwork was finalised, and in fact also got permission to move in once my bedsit rental finished, but a few days before the paperwork would be completed, which was a great help.
I had seen the original title deeds before completing the sale so knew it was all in order, but had been advised that one piece of documentation was missing! The deeds showed the property dimensions and correct ownership rights, there was also a copy of the architects plans with municipal approval, BUT once built the house had never been registered on the property. No-one could give me a definitive answer as to how relevant this was, but to me all that really mattered was that the property would legally be mine, so what was placed on it was secondary to that important legal status. A couple of evenings after I moved in, and before the paperwork was finalised, there was a knock on the door - it was two men from the local council who had come to verify that the house was actually the same as had been approved from the architect's drawings, and after looking around and taking a few measurements they left - and I was given confirmation that the house was now correctly registered, organised by the vendor's daughter. So now I could sleep easily knowing that my legal title would be full and completely correct!
Finally a month after moving in I received the "escritura", which is the title deeds proving I am the legal owner of the house. The process had been relatively easy, especially since Brazil is renowned for the complicated nature of the bureaucracy, but I was relieved that everything was now OK, and I shouldn't have any future problems concerning my ownership.
I had considered renting, but felt that as it was going to be for 2 years, and I was still hopeful of getting permanent status, I should maybe buy instead. I had been in contact with the charity head and she told me it was easy to buy as a foreigner (she herself had done that when she first moved there) and there was a lot of cheap housing to be found. In fact while searching online I had found an advert for a small house, fairly close to the charity, for sale by an British man, which sounded pretty much what I was looking for. I contacted him asking about it - he was in the UK at the time - and he appeared surprised that his house was for sale! I sent him the link to the advert, and he admitted that a friend was dealing with this for him - but when I showed considerable interest he started prevaricating about the price! He wouldn't give me a straight answer about how much the selling price was, but kept saying that he thought the advertised price was "probably too low"! So I told him to contact me when he had made his mind up about the final price, but that I was prepared to pay in UK pounds, which was better for both of us! He did tell me, however, that a friend in Brazil had the keys, was looking after the house and could show me it when I got there. I did rather lose interest in it at this point!
I did manage to find a small place to rent prior to my arrival, but only for a month as it was booked by someone else for Christmas, which was just over a month after my arrival. When I reached Brazil I contacted the charity head straight away, and we talked about buying a house - and she knew the man selling the house (he was a woodworking artist and had done some work for her), and who was holding the keys! So she called Muzenza, a young Brazilian man, and he came round to meet me. He would help me find a house as he knew all the places for sale, he told me, and we could meet up later for dinner and talk things over.
He arrived at the agreed restaurant with a young lady with him - he was looking after a property, for another British man, which was being converted into holiday accommodation, and she was staying in one of the rooms there. He said that we could start house hunting in the morning, so we just chatted about living in this town, and other generalities. He drank rather a lot during the meal, and afterwards sampled a selection of flavoured Cachaças on offer in their bar (which he paid for !), and before we parted he suggested that on the morrow we go on a trip out of town to see some of the sights in the National Park, rather than house-hunting, and he brings the young lady along as she is a tourist too.
I went back to my bedsit, but an hour later there is a knock on the door - it is Muzenza! He informs me that he realises he is probably too drunk to manage the trip in the morning, but suggests we meet up after lunch, at the place he is looking after, and we can start house-hunting. I arrive a little before time, am let in through the big gates, only to be told that he has not yet got up today! So I go for a wander round the extensive grounds of this property and then sit in the communal area/dining room for around 90 minutes, while waiting, and he still doesn't appear! I leave a message with my number and leave.
He calls later all apologetic - saying he was more drunk that he thought, and had to sleep it off, but would I come around the next morning at 9.00 and we could start looking. Again I was there on time, and again no sign of him! I waited an hour, and then abandoned that idea completely - and since then I have bumped into him a couple of times in town, but other than that we have had no contact!
The following day I went to see the only Real Estate agent in town - the same place I had used to book the bedsit I was now staying in. I explained what I was looking for (she already knew where I was volunteering) and she grabbed a handful of folders and we set off on foot (I had hired a car but we didn't need it as everything was so close!). We looked at a variety of different properties in and around the centre of town - some needing quite a bit of work (mainly woodworm or termites by the look of it!), but none really suitable as none had any parking space (and the streets nearby too narrow to realistically be an option), none had any outdoor space (yard or garden), and every one had issues with the legal title!
This is apparently a very common problem in rural Brazil, where "laws" are often ignored or stretched, but I felt that, as a foreigner, I needed to be 100% certain I was buying a property that was going to be "mine"! Many of the issues surrounded inheritance - a landowner had passed away intestate (who in Brazil has a formal will?) so the oldest child sells the property, then one of the other siblings claims it and also sells it - to someone else - and the spouse then does the same, or a brother, or a parent! So we end up with several people buying the same property, none having legal title, and legal disputes that go on for decades! There is a property opposite where I finally bought that has been walled off, by the purchaser who then found out it was under litigation, and 8 years later no further work has been done, and no resolution is in sight!
I did find a nice modern 2 storey property very close to the charity - it was split into two dwellings, with the upper one very spacious, including a mezzanine floor bedroom and great views, and the ground floor suitable for renting out - but the "lane" outside to rocky and rough for parking close by, and the nearest suitable place to park a vehicle at least 100 metres away, and not secure! In addition the "owner" had inherited the property from her aunt who had recently passed away - there was legal title to it BUT she was going through a divorce and her husband was claiming part ownership, so it would not be possible to get legal title transfer until the divorce was finalised or until they cane to some agreement over the property (the wife was adamant the husband had no right to any of it!), which could take years - so I passed on that one, too.
So day one ended with nothing suitable - prices were very good, but I did wonder how much of that was due to the title uncertainties, though I was assured that this wasn't the case, and lack of title shouldn't be a problem! I also didn't get good vibes from any of them - not sure if anyone else has experienced this, but I always get a feeling if a house is going to be a good "home"!
Day two the realtor sent me a little further afield with her assistant, and the first two properties I was shown were part-builds, which means they had walls, but no roof! I explained that I needed somewhere I could move into immediately and live in (I had about 3 weeks left on my bedsit rental before I had to move out for another tenant!), so that meant that three other properties on her list were also no good - one was a bare plot! Thee next was another two storey house - the ground floor was complete and beautifully finished, but the upper floor - which had spectacular views - was only half finished. It would have made a great purchase had I wished to rent out half the building, but I wanted to retain the views, and the top floor was not only unfinished, but also much smaller - and it was the most expensive property I had seen, by a long way!
The final one on her list in this area (she told me there were others to see in other suburbs), was a 4 bed-roomed house on a large plot with a garden. I was reluctant to even look at it as it was far too big for my needs, but the price was very reasonable, and she insisted that I would be impressed, especially as it had full legal title! Inside it was a mess as it had been unoccupied for some time, and there were a couple of pieces of broken furniture abandoned inside - a large insect screen was in tatters, and mail had been shoved through it scattering all over the floor. She ushered me to the kitchen window and the view was spectacular - looking Southwards across the National Park.
I was impressed, but still couldn't get over the fact it was a big 4 bed-roomed house, when all I needed was something smaller - so we headed back to the office. The owner was dealing with someone else, so I was left to think things over - and was mulling over my options (including looking at more properties, but I was led to believe I had already seen the best they had on the books) when I heard someone asking about renting the last property. The assistant replied that it was available at the moment, but that she thought I might be interested in buying it - it took me about two minutes to decide to make an offer!!
As I was a cash buyer this helped to speed up the process - though I did have to arrange a 50% deposit through my UK bank to the vendor who lived in Sao Paulo - and the realtor dealt with the initial paperwork. The vendor's daughter lived locally and she was given power of attorney to sign on her father's behalf, so we both went first to the local council for a document stating that all taxes were paid, then to the Forum, which is where all legal matters are dealt with. She had to sign a couple of documents, and I had to countersign, and sign others - then it was a case of waiting 15 days, which I took to being a fortnight, but was 15 "working days" so three weeks! This would take us into Christmas and past the date I had to vacate the bedsit. I was worried about how I could furnish the place as there was nowhere in my town that sold furnishings, so I would have to buy elsewhere and get it delivered, but I managed to get permission to have it delivered directly to the house before the paperwork was finalised, and in fact also got permission to move in once my bedsit rental finished, but a few days before the paperwork would be completed, which was a great help.
I had seen the original title deeds before completing the sale so knew it was all in order, but had been advised that one piece of documentation was missing! The deeds showed the property dimensions and correct ownership rights, there was also a copy of the architects plans with municipal approval, BUT once built the house had never been registered on the property. No-one could give me a definitive answer as to how relevant this was, but to me all that really mattered was that the property would legally be mine, so what was placed on it was secondary to that important legal status. A couple of evenings after I moved in, and before the paperwork was finalised, there was a knock on the door - it was two men from the local council who had come to verify that the house was actually the same as had been approved from the architect's drawings, and after looking around and taking a few measurements they left - and I was given confirmation that the house was now correctly registered, organised by the vendor's daughter. So now I could sleep easily knowing that my legal title would be full and completely correct!
Finally a month after moving in I received the "escritura", which is the title deeds proving I am the legal owner of the house. The process had been relatively easy, especially since Brazil is renowned for the complicated nature of the bureaucracy, but I was relieved that everything was now OK, and I shouldn't have any future problems concerning my ownership.
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| The view from the kitchen that sold the house! |
Thursday, 5 October 2017
With friends like these who needs enemies?
I had mentioned in an earlier comment (to a post called "Crossing the line") that while I was in Peru the young friend looking after my house had contacted me saying he had caused some damage and taken some of my things, though I was unaware as to the extent as he was not very forthcoming about that, so I had to wait until my return, fearing the worst, to find out what exactly had happened.
Like many young men in Brazil he was a regular pot smoker, but about three years ago helped at an annual "trance" music festival, and admitted to me eventually that he tried some "harder" drugs there. It changed him. Even his girlfriend came to see me with concerns about his well-being, and although he wasn't addicted, he did start seeking out other drugs, though pot was about all he could afford occasionally. His mother also came to see me and I gave her some money to have him admitted to a clinic some 200 miles away, which he walked out of after 24 hours claiming to be fine, but his mother did manage to get him on some medication which seemed to be working - if he took it! He had become paranoid, under the belief that everyone hated him, and was out to get him, and was unable to find work which also didn't help. He was living at home (at 24 years of age) as he couldn't afford anything else, and this was stressing him out further, as "home" was a 2 bedroomed house with his parents, and three siblings, one mentally handicapped under medication as well.
As he appeared to be under control, confirmed by his mother who I know well, I decided it would be OK to let him look after my house while I was away - a situation that, I felt, would be mutually beneficial - I had a friend looking after my house, and he had somewhere to stay, expense free as I left money for all the utility bills, for 6 months. This would be the fourth time we had done this, and the previous three occasions it had been fairly successful - apart from a few minor breakages (glasses, plates, etc.) and losing the keys once (so I had to replace all the external door locks, three of them and three padlocks on security gates!).
My motorbike remains indoors while I am away (I keep both sets of keys with me!) , and I have a spare bedroom I use as a "junk" room, which I keep locked (normal door lock, and two padlocks) with personal things in when I travel, so was alarmed when he contacted me (as did his elder sister, who I didn't know) to say he had a breakdown, and had been curious about that room so broke in! He had rummaged around my things and found some foreign currency (Pounds, Dollars and Euros) that I keep for travelling, and had taken those to buy a mobile phone. He also said the front door was broken, but his sister said the family broke that as he had fallen asleep with a pan on the stove, and they had to get to him. Apart from them assuring me the house was secure, though he did tell me he had lost my house keys again, and that they would reimburse me, that was all I could find out while still in Peru!
I let him know my expected arrival time and got home to find the house locked up and as I didn't have a key for the flimsy padlock, and new lock they had installed, I had to make my entry round the back of the house as I still had my keys. While I was unpacking my car he showed up, and I learned a little more about what had happened, though I still don't think I have been told anything near to the truth!
Like many young men in Brazil he was a regular pot smoker, but about three years ago helped at an annual "trance" music festival, and admitted to me eventually that he tried some "harder" drugs there. It changed him. Even his girlfriend came to see me with concerns about his well-being, and although he wasn't addicted, he did start seeking out other drugs, though pot was about all he could afford occasionally. His mother also came to see me and I gave her some money to have him admitted to a clinic some 200 miles away, which he walked out of after 24 hours claiming to be fine, but his mother did manage to get him on some medication which seemed to be working - if he took it! He had become paranoid, under the belief that everyone hated him, and was out to get him, and was unable to find work which also didn't help. He was living at home (at 24 years of age) as he couldn't afford anything else, and this was stressing him out further, as "home" was a 2 bedroomed house with his parents, and three siblings, one mentally handicapped under medication as well.
As he appeared to be under control, confirmed by his mother who I know well, I decided it would be OK to let him look after my house while I was away - a situation that, I felt, would be mutually beneficial - I had a friend looking after my house, and he had somewhere to stay, expense free as I left money for all the utility bills, for 6 months. This would be the fourth time we had done this, and the previous three occasions it had been fairly successful - apart from a few minor breakages (glasses, plates, etc.) and losing the keys once (so I had to replace all the external door locks, three of them and three padlocks on security gates!).
My motorbike remains indoors while I am away (I keep both sets of keys with me!) , and I have a spare bedroom I use as a "junk" room, which I keep locked (normal door lock, and two padlocks) with personal things in when I travel, so was alarmed when he contacted me (as did his elder sister, who I didn't know) to say he had a breakdown, and had been curious about that room so broke in! He had rummaged around my things and found some foreign currency (Pounds, Dollars and Euros) that I keep for travelling, and had taken those to buy a mobile phone. He also said the front door was broken, but his sister said the family broke that as he had fallen asleep with a pan on the stove, and they had to get to him. Apart from them assuring me the house was secure, though he did tell me he had lost my house keys again, and that they would reimburse me, that was all I could find out while still in Peru!
I let him know my expected arrival time and got home to find the house locked up and as I didn't have a key for the flimsy padlock, and new lock they had installed, I had to make my entry round the back of the house as I still had my keys. While I was unpacking my car he showed up, and I learned a little more about what had happened, though I still don't think I have been told anything near to the truth!
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| This is what the outside of the front door looked like. He told me he had lost the keys only 2 weeks prior to my return - his story being that he found an unlocked car in town and decided to sit in it "to see what it felt like to own a car", put the keys and his phone in the glove box, but forgot them when he got out of the car, and it had disappeared when he went back for them. However the front door had been damaged 5 months earlier, when his family had to break in due to the unattended pan - he apparently wasn't in the house at the time - so I realised that the keys had been lost way back then, and that breaking in was the only mode of access, meaning big lie! This morning a young man doing some garden clearance next door came across - my keys (and a phone) in the weeds, so the story about leaving them in a car was also ... big lie! |
Damaged saucepan - supposed to have a double base, but totally destroyed.
Storeroom door
When I started looking round my house I found more evidence of "missing" or damaged items - first the empty box for a Casio wristwatch, "oh, I sold that, too", another irreparably damaged VW logo wristwatch, "I borrowed that and wore it, got into a fight and it got damaged", the damaged aluminium case of a knife set ...
This hadn't even been locked, but he forced it open!
... a broken figurine of an African Grey Parrot (which had been my mother's and one of the few things of hers I kept for sentimental reasons), also dotted around my house were things (ornaments and such) that I didn't recognise - till I realise they had been taken from stored boxes I was keeping for a friend! He had also brought from the storeroom a lot of my things, which I had secured in there - including some groceries I had put away for safekeeping as they would still be "in date" upon my return, some of which he had used - and I realised my stock of booze was also gone, which had included an almost full litre bottle of Single Malt Whiskey (that had cost me almost £50).
I asked if he had taken anything else and he admitted to a shirt and some shorts, "I didn't have anything to wear" - the shirt turned out to be a Lacoste Polo shirt, the only item of "designer" clothing I owned. Since I have been back it has become obvious that he also wore a lot of my t-shirts, too, since they were all clean, but folded completely differently to how I do it (I am a creature of habit!), apart from one, a dark blue t-shirt, that was covered in fluff from washing, probably with a paper tissue in the machine, which I would never have put away like that.
I changed the sheets on my bed, and found it had been made with three sheets, two fitted ones (one correctly on the bottom, and one on top over everything!) and a flat sheet - and the 6 pillows on various beds had 9 pillowcases on them (plus liners I bought in the UK).
I contacted him a couple of days later to ask about some tools that were missing, and he admitted to "borrowing" those, and returned them, though denied all knowledge of a couple of other items - including a "Rolex" watch (bought in Tunisia years ago while on holiday with my daughter to get rid of a very pushy salesman in a shop there), which to the untrained eye looked pretty original (terrible timekeeper though, which I found out on the only time I ever tried wearing it for a joke!), though when I told him that a new Rolex would cost in excess of US$5000 he almost passed out, and then admitted he might have taken that too, and sold it (I got the impression he got next to nothing for it, and didn't tell him it was a "fake", whoever bought it here wouldn't have been aware either - we do not have sophisticated "fences" here).
I had left more than enough money for all the utility bills and my Council Tax, while I was away - but he apparently blew that within days of me going, probably on drugs! His mother said she paid the bills, but when I got back I found that there were three months of electricity bills outstanding (March-May!),and one of water, and that the water had, in fact, been disconnected for two months back in May, for non-payment. The Council Tax was also unpaid, so I had to settle all those.
His mother and sister both say he has mental problems (caused by drug abuse?), and so is not really responsible for his actions! His mother insists they will reimburse me for the losses and damages, though I know this won't happen as they cannot afford it. He is on medication now, which apparently is controlling his condition, and he does appear pretty normal at the moment. I just feel so betrayed by him - I have known him for 8 years and considered him a friend, despite the age difference. I was his go-to guy when he needed anything - borrow tools, borrow money (though I never got paid back!), needed a lift somewhere, needed internet access (on my WiFi!) - and the only thing I ever asked from him was that he took care of my house, which in exchange he got to stay for free (only had to feed himself) and had the run of the place, apart from my locked storeroom!
I am not sure if I can ever forgive him, or trust him again, especially since he shows little sign of remorse for his actions - and has continued to lie about exactly what happened while I was away.
Wednesday, 27 September 2017
Spit or Swallow?
OK, get your minds out of the gutter - or actually that is where they should be - but this is not an X-rated post but rather about the habit of expectoration, or spitting in public.
Having lived for well over 20 years in Africa and South America, where spitting is almost a way of life, you would think that I am immune to it, and accept it as normal, but I still feel it is a disgusting habit. I recall vividly the first time I saw someone spit in the street in the UK (which shows how much of an impression it made on me!) which was in 1963 while visiting the city of Wells - we were heading for the cathedral when a man approaching hawked and spat in the street. I was dumbfounded! Although we had just returned from 3 years in Angola where it was prevalent, this was the first time I had seen it in England - and was shocked to the core. In hindsight I realise now that the 60's was a time of mass immigration into the UK (and also the start of cheap overseas holidays to Europe where British tourists would be exposed to these unsavoury practices), and this was possibly the reason it started becoming commonplace.
My grandfather was asthmatic, having been gassed in World War 1, and spent a lot of his life afterwards bed-ridden, and used to cough up copious amounts of phlegm, which he used to spit into lidded glass jars for later disposal down the (outside) toilet, so I guess from an early age I saw spitting as a necessary activity, but one that should include safe disposal of the "spit". I must add now that I have never been a spitter, I have never felt the need to dispose of excess phlegm that way, but have always been a swallower - after all it is a product that originated in my upper respiratory tract so therefore cannot be dangerous to me, and getting rid of it by swallowing means it enters my digestive tract for "disposal"! I have always carried a handkerchief (a throwback to my British upbringing!) and could use that to capture anything I might be reluctant to swallow!
When I first moved to Brazil I spent 2 years volunteering at a small local children's charity, with most of the children between 5 and 11 years of age, and I was horrified to see several of them spitting on the floor INSIDE the building! We quickly initiated a no-spitting rule, and offenders would be ejected for 24 hours, but it took a while to stamp it out. We told them if they really felt the need to spit to use the toilet, but some would spit out of the window! One persistent offender was a 9 year-old girl, who was a handful anyway, and I asked her why she was always spitting - her reply was that she had a "bad taste" in her mouth, and was hawking up phlegm to clean her mouth and then needed to spit it out. I asked why she didn't swallow it (or have a drink of water!), as I would, and she said that was disgusting!
We tried explaining that spitting was extremely hazardous to health, and spread diseases such as Tuberculosis, Influenza, Meningitis, and even the common cold, but this fell on deaf ears - spitting was so endemic that nothing we said could change their minds that it was the only way to dispose of phlegm. Spitting in public has been banned in many places around the world - the UK has made it an offence to spit in public since 2013 (in London you risk an £80 fine), but there have been relatively few prosecutions - however this has done little to control the practice.
I will continue to be a swallower, and tut whenever I see a spitter!
Having lived for well over 20 years in Africa and South America, where spitting is almost a way of life, you would think that I am immune to it, and accept it as normal, but I still feel it is a disgusting habit. I recall vividly the first time I saw someone spit in the street in the UK (which shows how much of an impression it made on me!) which was in 1963 while visiting the city of Wells - we were heading for the cathedral when a man approaching hawked and spat in the street. I was dumbfounded! Although we had just returned from 3 years in Angola where it was prevalent, this was the first time I had seen it in England - and was shocked to the core. In hindsight I realise now that the 60's was a time of mass immigration into the UK (and also the start of cheap overseas holidays to Europe where British tourists would be exposed to these unsavoury practices), and this was possibly the reason it started becoming commonplace.
My grandfather was asthmatic, having been gassed in World War 1, and spent a lot of his life afterwards bed-ridden, and used to cough up copious amounts of phlegm, which he used to spit into lidded glass jars for later disposal down the (outside) toilet, so I guess from an early age I saw spitting as a necessary activity, but one that should include safe disposal of the "spit". I must add now that I have never been a spitter, I have never felt the need to dispose of excess phlegm that way, but have always been a swallower - after all it is a product that originated in my upper respiratory tract so therefore cannot be dangerous to me, and getting rid of it by swallowing means it enters my digestive tract for "disposal"! I have always carried a handkerchief (a throwback to my British upbringing!) and could use that to capture anything I might be reluctant to swallow!
When I first moved to Brazil I spent 2 years volunteering at a small local children's charity, with most of the children between 5 and 11 years of age, and I was horrified to see several of them spitting on the floor INSIDE the building! We quickly initiated a no-spitting rule, and offenders would be ejected for 24 hours, but it took a while to stamp it out. We told them if they really felt the need to spit to use the toilet, but some would spit out of the window! One persistent offender was a 9 year-old girl, who was a handful anyway, and I asked her why she was always spitting - her reply was that she had a "bad taste" in her mouth, and was hawking up phlegm to clean her mouth and then needed to spit it out. I asked why she didn't swallow it (or have a drink of water!), as I would, and she said that was disgusting!
We tried explaining that spitting was extremely hazardous to health, and spread diseases such as Tuberculosis, Influenza, Meningitis, and even the common cold, but this fell on deaf ears - spitting was so endemic that nothing we said could change their minds that it was the only way to dispose of phlegm. Spitting in public has been banned in many places around the world - the UK has made it an offence to spit in public since 2013 (in London you risk an £80 fine), but there have been relatively few prosecutions - however this has done little to control the practice.
I will continue to be a swallower, and tut whenever I see a spitter!
Monday, 5 June 2017
A man goes to the doctor with a headache
A young man goes to see his doctor about his headache -
"Doctor, I have had this terrible headache for months - it is driving me crazy as I just cannot get any relief!"
Doctor: "Where exactly is the pain?"
Man: "Across my forehead, and then down the left side of my face"
Doctor: "And you have tried different remedies for it already?"
Man: "I have tried everything they sell in the local chemist, and nothing gets close to relieving the pain.
I went to a Chinese herbalist, and tried everything he had there, and nothing worked either.
I have tried acupuncture, and that didn't help.
I am at my wits end, doctor, please help me!"
Doctor: "I think we will send you to a specialist for some tests, to rule out some ailments, but in the meantime I will also prescribe you some stronger painkillers. Come back and see me in two weeks."
Two weeks later -
Man: "Doctor, if anything the pain is worse! All across my forehead, and down the left side of my face!"
Doctor: "Did you see the specialist?"
Man: "Yes! He prodded and poked me all over, took blood tests, gave me an MRI scan, and a CT scan, took X-rays and cannot find anything wrong!"
Doctor: "I did some research online and came across a similar case - severe headache across the forehead and down the left hand side of the face. They managed to cure that."
Man: "Tell me how, doctor, I cannot go on like this!"
Doctor: "Well, they discovered that the problem actually originated in the testicles - the man was producing too many hormones and these were the cause of the headaches - but castration solved the problem,"
Man: "Castration? You mean cutting his balls off? I am a young man, I want to have children eventually, I cannot go through with that!"
Doctor: "Then I am afraid there is nothing I can do for you"
Two days later -
Man: "Doctor, I have thought it over, the pain is so severe I have to get some relief so I will have the operation if you are sure it will cure me"
Doctor: "Well, it worked for that other young man, so I am sure it will for you too - I can actually do the procedure here now, if you like"
So the doctor administers anaesthetic and performs the castration, and when the young man comes round lo and behold the headache has gone!
Man: "Doctor, it is a miracle, the headache has gone - for the first time in years! Thank you so much!"
A week later he goes back to the doctor -
Man: "Doctor the headache has gone and I am so grateful, but I am suffering depression as I no longer feel that I am a man!"
Doctor: "Of course you are - just because you are missing some bits doesn't make any difference to who you are, but I can understand your concerns. Why not go away for a holiday, have some fun and you will see that you haven't changed? How about a city break in London?"
So the man heads for London, sees all the sights and starts to feel better, but decides to get a new tailor-made suit in Saville Row.
He chooses the material, and the style he would like and then the tailor starts taking measurements - when he gets to the inside leg measurement he asks:
"Which side do you dress, sir?"
Man: "Dress? What do you mean?"
Tailor: "I mean when you put trousers on which side do you place your ... er, genitalia. You see, sir, we tailor the trousers to accommodate you - most trousers you buy "ready-made" meet in a Y at the crotch, and this puts pressure on your genitals, which can give you a really bad headache all across the forehead and down the left side of your face!"
"Doctor, I have had this terrible headache for months - it is driving me crazy as I just cannot get any relief!"
Doctor: "Where exactly is the pain?"
Man: "Across my forehead, and then down the left side of my face"
Doctor: "And you have tried different remedies for it already?"
Man: "I have tried everything they sell in the local chemist, and nothing gets close to relieving the pain.
I went to a Chinese herbalist, and tried everything he had there, and nothing worked either.
I have tried acupuncture, and that didn't help.
I am at my wits end, doctor, please help me!"
Doctor: "I think we will send you to a specialist for some tests, to rule out some ailments, but in the meantime I will also prescribe you some stronger painkillers. Come back and see me in two weeks."
Two weeks later -
Man: "Doctor, if anything the pain is worse! All across my forehead, and down the left side of my face!"
Doctor: "Did you see the specialist?"
Man: "Yes! He prodded and poked me all over, took blood tests, gave me an MRI scan, and a CT scan, took X-rays and cannot find anything wrong!"
Doctor: "I did some research online and came across a similar case - severe headache across the forehead and down the left hand side of the face. They managed to cure that."
Man: "Tell me how, doctor, I cannot go on like this!"
Doctor: "Well, they discovered that the problem actually originated in the testicles - the man was producing too many hormones and these were the cause of the headaches - but castration solved the problem,"
Man: "Castration? You mean cutting his balls off? I am a young man, I want to have children eventually, I cannot go through with that!"
Doctor: "Then I am afraid there is nothing I can do for you"
Two days later -
Man: "Doctor, I have thought it over, the pain is so severe I have to get some relief so I will have the operation if you are sure it will cure me"
Doctor: "Well, it worked for that other young man, so I am sure it will for you too - I can actually do the procedure here now, if you like"
So the doctor administers anaesthetic and performs the castration, and when the young man comes round lo and behold the headache has gone!
Man: "Doctor, it is a miracle, the headache has gone - for the first time in years! Thank you so much!"
A week later he goes back to the doctor -
Man: "Doctor the headache has gone and I am so grateful, but I am suffering depression as I no longer feel that I am a man!"
Doctor: "Of course you are - just because you are missing some bits doesn't make any difference to who you are, but I can understand your concerns. Why not go away for a holiday, have some fun and you will see that you haven't changed? How about a city break in London?"
So the man heads for London, sees all the sights and starts to feel better, but decides to get a new tailor-made suit in Saville Row.
He chooses the material, and the style he would like and then the tailor starts taking measurements - when he gets to the inside leg measurement he asks:
"Which side do you dress, sir?"
Man: "Dress? What do you mean?"
Tailor: "I mean when you put trousers on which side do you place your ... er, genitalia. You see, sir, we tailor the trousers to accommodate you - most trousers you buy "ready-made" meet in a Y at the crotch, and this puts pressure on your genitals, which can give you a really bad headache all across the forehead and down the left side of your face!"
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