Our water supply was cut off last week. Coming from a country where I understand such an occurrence only occurs after protracted legal processes, I was surprised by the sharp and efficient tone of terminal aquatic disruption. As in dry faucets, no longer flushing toilets, and much ingenuity issuing forth to take care of the wetter aspects of family life.
I was unavailable when the watery repo-man of Alcobaça first popped round to do the drying deed, and sadly too on his second visit, when there may have been the opportunity to wave a piece of plastic over an electronic brick and settle the matter. But that’s not how it played out. The two visits resulted ultimately in disconnection, which threw quite the arid and sudden spanner into the works of our daily lives.
That old saying “you never miss the water till the well runs dry” is SO true, as you discover when you instinctively reach for the tap to fill the kettle, do the washing up and, worse still, go to shower, shave and … well, you know … first thing in the morning, to be faced with that sucking sound effect that we all might know from movies or previous, bitter experience.
Luckily, our apocalyptic water store of 20 or so plastic seven and five-litre bottles, stowed in the ‘prepping pantry’, came into its own. And a range of ingenious systems were immediately implemented to replenish the water filter, do the washing up, make all-important tea and coffee, as well as fashion ablution systems, which were pleasingly efficient, if a little mediaeval.
Thankfully the cold and moist weather of the Silver Coast at this time of year also provided occasional volumes of water, pulled from the humid air, which helped flush toilets, in a kind of recycling circle of life, that Greta Thunberg might give us an approving nod for.
Mrs M’s years of experience working on French campsites, and my life-long honed skills in becoming far too good at coping with incompetence-based and self-induced hardship, made this first-world disaster more of an adventure than a life or marriage-threatening scenario, but it’s not something I want to do again any time soon.
Yes, this trying and awkward situation was resolved almost as quickly as it occurred to us, but it brought with it some vital learning, especially personally, and also culturally – where the face of expat expectation and entitlement was shown, only to be punched squarely, firmly, and actually, quite rightly.
This all began with the ‘missing’ of a payment, I discovered, when the phone was finally answered at Alcobaça’s ‘Serviços Municipalizados’. Having switched to email invoicing, I was told that any payment reminders were issued not by email, but by post, which I have no recollection of receiving.
Anyway, with the perfect storm of a kind of personal dyscalculia/neurosis when it comes to home finances, the ‘mixed’ efficiency of the Portuguese postal system, and the sometimes-indiscernible hieroglyphics of Portuguese official correspondence – something went badly wrong.
After some brave attempts to first pick the right combination code for the appropriate department and then communicate my predicament in Portuguese, I was connected to my new best friend over there, Elizabete. She proceeded to tell me, in the most anxiety-reducing English I have heard in a long time, that if I’d called earlier, the man would be round next morning to re-connect my supply.
Now there are times in these ‘customer care calls’ where you are poised at the crossroads of tears or laughter. “I have been calling all day!” I uttered at 15.59, on the metaphorical verge of tears, responding to the news that the payment cut-off time was 16.00. Here, I could have fought it out over this chronological technicality, but figured a battle with the entire weight of Portuguese time culture would see me soon defeated and bloody. Instead, it was time for laughter.
“Is there nothing you can do to get my water back on today?” I asked, throwing in a “my wife might kill me” card for good measure and a direct and unashamed appeal to this woman’s humanity. As I recall, Elizabete confirmed that the quickest way to resolve this matter would be to drive to the office the next day, pay the missing amount, along with reconnection fee, and water would flow once again the day after that. And in a brilliantly Portuguese expression of dark humour, and a universal acknowledgement of the eternal interplay of the genders, suggested that ‘no, I would not experience water today, but I would experience my wife’.
Thank God this wasn’t anywhere near a Friday or Portuguese public holiday, I now realise in retrospect, and I duly followed the instructions and process given me, albeit with the car not starting as I jumped into its driving seat, armed with the paperwork and method of payment. In the great scheme of expat ups and downs, of newbie adventures, this was – on the face of it – a BIG downer. However, as my wife, family and even guests faced the inconvenience admirably, I am left with a major realisation about this journey, in Portugal and in life itself.
In this sorry situation, I could have headed to one of those social media-based expat victim support groups (my description, not theirs) and bemoaned this country and its culture that caused me so much pain, expressing eloquently my outrage and anger, and demanding change or a free plane ticket out of here. Yet, as ever, when one finger points, three point back. And those damning digits are pointing right at the common link in all of our lives, with its trials and tribulations, regardless of global location – us. Yes, you, and, in this case, most definitely me!
This all to say that whilst the circumstances and facts of the tale I told you might be Portuguese, my experience and interpretation of them, and the opinions derived therefrom, are entirely mine. They say far more about me, ultimately, than they do about Portugal.
When all’s said and done (and a lot will no doubt be said when things are done differently to your expectations), it’s not about Portugal, it’s about YOU.
By Carl Munson
Carl Munson is host of the Good Morning Portugal! show every weekday on YouTube and creator of www.learnaboutportugal.com, where you can learn something new about Portugal every day!
