Ein Post für Lucky und Björn

Nein, nein, natürlich ist dieser Post nicht nur für Lucky und Björn, ich bin ja froh über jeden meiner dreieinhalb regelmäßigen Leser. Aber Lucky ist mit Abstand die Hartnäckigste wenn es darum geht mich ans Schreiben zu erinnern und Björn hat gestern den süßesten Kommentar überhaupt gebracht... und ausserdem regnets und nachdem ich ja in Brasilien behauptet habe das brasilianische Fernsehprogramm wäre schlimmer als alles bisher dagewesene habe ich jetzt doch wieder meine Meinung geändert und behaupte das Deutsche Fernsehen wäre noch schlimmer.
Was also machen? Schreiben. Damit ich jetzt nicht wieder ganz von vorne anfangen muss hier mal ein Sommer Highlight vom Dezember.

Die Büro-Weihnachtsfeier
Auch in Brasilien wird Weihnachten gefeiert, ist ja klar. Auf den ersten Blick zu erkennen war dies für mich in der Adventszeit in Brasilien aber nicht. Sicher, ich hatte die kitschige Deko überdimensionaler Plastikweihnachtsmänner die den ganzen Tag E-Gitarre spielen oder Doughnuts essen in den Shoppingcenters bemerkt, auch die falschen Weihnachtsbäume die mit glitzerndem Obst bestückt sind habe ich gesehen. Aber schon allein die Tatsache dass es draußen 38°C hat und ich mit einem Eis, in Shorts und Flips-Flops daran vorbei laufe liess alles nur noch kitschiger und so falsch aussehen, dass man glauben könnte der Innenausstatter der Galeria Kaufhof hätte sich einen Scherz erlaubt um das Sommerloch zu füllen.
Als ich mich einmal dazu hinreissen liess, zu sagen für mich wäre das doch alles sehr unweihnachtlich, denn bei dieser Hitze würder der Weihnachtsmann in seinem Mantel ja sofort einen Herzinfarkt bekommen und die armen Schneemänner ausserhalb des Gefrierfachs nicht überleben, da bekam ich strafende Blicke zu spüren denn immerhin sei jawohl Weihnachten und das wäre ohne ohne "Papai Noel" jawohl nichts und die Schneemänner und Tannenbäume seien ja eh nicht echt. "Eben." war meine Antwort dazu. Das war dann aber auch wieder nicht richtig denn ich wurde belehrt dass man Weihnachten die Geburt Jesu' feiert und damit hätte jawohl der Baum garnix zu tun, wo das herkäme wüsste eh keiner, denn in Brasilien gibts ja nichtmal Tannen und bei Weihnachten muss es warm sein. Punkt. Aus. Keine Disskussion. Nao tem jeito.

Ich erwartete also ähnliche Deko für die Büroweihnachtsfeier, wurde aber enttäuscht. Es gab bunte Luftballons, einen elektrischen Rodeo-Stier im Luftkissen zum drauf reiten, ein Trampolin für die Kinder; und ja, tatsächlich, ich sollte zum vierten Mal der selben Sertanejo Band zuhören. Kellington e Anderson. Ich glaube es gibt keine andere Band die ich 4 mal in nur 6 Monaten gesehen habe, schon gar keine die ich nicht besonders leiden kann (ich empfehle hierzu den letzten Blogpost). Natürlich gab es auch Fleisch vom Grill und Bier. Was sonst?!
Vor dem Essen aber wurde gewichtelt. Wir hatten im Büro alle Namen gezogen und während man bei uns schonmal raten soll von wem es kommt, müssen in Brasilien alle raten wer gezogen wurde. Dazu erzählt der Schenkende eine kleine Geschichte oder stellt Fragen, bis es raus ist.
Mein Chef war irgendwann dran und fragte: "Wer ist denn hier blond?" Einige Hände schnellten in die Höhe, ich schaute mich um... Tatsache, waren einige blond, das würde noch etwas dauern. "Nein, wer ist denn richtig blond. Von Natur aus?" Nur zwei Hände blieben oben, aber beide hatten schon ein Geschenk in der Hand. Das kann ja nicht sein. "Wer ist echt blond und hat noch kein Geschenk?" Keiner meldet sich. "Wer ist blond und hat blaue Augen?" Keiner meldet sich. "Mensch Leute, wer im Büro hat denn blaue Augen!?!" ANNA! Achja, ich. Oh. Blond?! Ich nahm mein Geschenk entgegen und entschuldigte mich erstmal mit den Worten, dass mich in Deutschland sicher niemand als blond bezeichnen würde... Mein Chef schenkte mir Noten für traditionelle brasilianische Musik (Samba, das Mädchen von Ipanema, etc.). Ich fand das eine sehr schöne Idee.
Einige Zeit später mussten dann die Kinder auf dem Rodeo Stier platzmachen. Der Chef wollte aufsteigen. Danach alle Männer. Wer nicht wollte wurde dann doch vom Chef überzeugt (ich möchte nicht wissen wie). Sie hatten alle mehr oder weniger Spaß, und unser Chef kommentierte jede Bewegung und hätte mit seiner Euphorie in der Stimme jeden Fussballkommentator neidisch gemacht. Zum Glück tat sich keiner weh, obwohl das ein oder andere Manöver bei den zuschauenden Ehefrauen spitze Schreie und hektische Griffe an den Kopf hervorriefen.

Weil es draußen schüttete wie verrückt gab die Band Zugaben und der Whiskey (immer gern genommen, ob mit Kunden oder Kollegen, siehe dieses Foto der letzten Messe http://www.twitpic.com/qxtps) wurde ausgepackt. Um zwei Uhr morgens wurden dann aber auch die letzten Kinder quengelig und so wurden die Familien nach und nach mit riesen Sonnenschirmen durch den anhaltenden Regen zu Ihren Autos geleitet.

Ich war Fahrer einer Truppe und sollte uns alle wieder hoch auf den Hügel, auf dem die Stadt liegt, fahren. Die Straßen waren so überflutet dass man nicht sehen konnte wie hoch das Wasser stand. Überall waren schon Autos geparkt bzw. abgesofffen, die Mofafahrer drängelten sich auf den kleinen Verkehrsinseln.
Ich dachte, ich bin ganz schlau und fahr einem ähnlichen Auto langsam hinterher. Wenn er durchkommt, komm ich auch durch. Bei einem U-Turn allerdings lag ich etwa 5 Sekunden hinter ihm, und während der Fahrer des Wagens vor mir eiskalt durch das Wasser düste, bremste ich in der Kurve. Ein fataler Fehler, denn schon kam eine Welle und mein Auto stand bis zu den Lichtern im Wasser. Ich dachte jetzt ist es abgesoffen... Dann bin ich aber doch noch mit Warnblinker im Rückwärtsgang wieder rausgekommen; nach vorne wurde es nur immer tiefer.
Wir brauchten eine kleine Ewigkeit nach Hause, denn die meisten Straßen waren gespertt und auch vor meiner Haustür lief das Wasser in Strömen. Selbst die Temperaturen waren um 16°C auf kühle 22°C gefallen und somit war es fast weihnachtlich: Kühl, regnerisch, dunkel, und nass. Eigenltich so wie heute in Leverkusen.

Alles in allem ein echtes Abenteuer, so eine Weihnachtszeit in der Fremde. Aber Spaß hats gemacht! Und wie!

...und es klang, als wäre er seiner Katze auf den Schwanz getreten. Mehrmals. Im 4/4-Takt.

Diese Gedanken hatte ich gestern, als wir hier bei der großen Konferenz in Cuiabá zusammen zu Abend gegessen haben und dabei einer Live Band lauschen durften.
Der Klang jedoch ist beabsichtigt. Es nennt sich Sertanejo und ist die lokale und hier in der Gegend erfolgreichste Musikrichtung.

Wer sich darunter noch nichts vorstellen kann: Es ist lokale Volksmusik. Ein recht fröhlicher Beat eigentlich. Aber jammrigre Texte. Xavier Naidoo fällt mir dazu ein; und auch Florian Silbereisen. Ja, so in etwa. Es klingt wie Xavier Naidoo klingen würde, würde er zusammen mit Marianne und Michael (Akkordeon und Gitarre) bei Florian Silbereisens Volksmusikantenstadl-zdf-rentner-hitparade auftreten. "Diese Trennung wird keine leichte sein, diese Trennung wird steinig und schwer... drum' loss uns oardentli oan uffn grill lega un kräftig oan trinkn"...

Zwei Männer, zwei Gitarren. Einer kann spielen und macht die komplizierten Parts oder nimmt auch mal das Akkordeon zur Hand, der andere streicht nur hin und wieder mal über die Seiten und singt dafür. Sie grinsen. Grinsen in die Runde. Warten das endlich jemand tanzt, aber ich bin die einzige Frau unter 38 Männern und wenn es jemand gibt der in dieser Musik keinen tanzbaren Rhythmus findet, dann bin das ganz sicher ich.
Meine Kollegen grölen die Texte mit, sie kennen sie alle, freuen sich wenn sie auch mal ins Mikro jaulen dürfen.
"Du wirst schon noch lernen diese Musik zu mögen" sagen sie mir. Sicher bin ich mir da nicht. Eigentlich will ich auch gar nicht lernen diese Musik zu mögen.

Doch dann wippt plötzlich mein Fuss im Takt. Nur ganz kurz. Ich schaudere, grusel mich fast ein bisschen vor mir selbst... Haben sie doch recht? Kann man "lernen" eine Musikrichtung zu mögen? Ich grinse auch. Mit dem Sänger um die Wette. Nein, ich glaube bisher hab ich noch nicht viel gelernt. Aber für den Anblick meines Chefs der aus voller Überzeugung und mit Inbrunst die traurigen Texte ins Mikrofon singt das er dem eigentlichen Sänger entwedet hat, wie er sich bei den langen Tönen nach hinten beugt und mit seinen Händen der Tragik ausdruck verleiht... Wie alle Kollegen mit singen, das Bier in der Hand... Dafür kann man gut auch mal Katzenjammer-Kammermusik ertragen.

Was für ein schöner Abend denke ich, nehme einen Schluck Bier, suche den Takt des Akkordeons und wippe nochmal kurz mit dem Fuss.

Chile! - Part 3: Concha y Toro Vineyard

On Monday I met with Franziska and Alastair early in the morning. Carlos and Consuelo had to work, so they could not join us for our vineyard tour at the Concha y Torre Vineyard, just 45 minutes out of Santiago’s City Center.

I met them in their hotel for breakfast, we put our luggage in storage and stopped a cab on the street. We were lucky. The driver accepted to drive us to the vineyard and back for a reasonable price and would wait there for us. Also, he was the funniest taxi driver I have ever met. He made the whole tour into a sightseeing tour, but not showing us the best sights of Santiago, but things like his old elementary school. He was laughing the whole time and even took some wrong turns and laughed about it.
In the end, we made it to Concha y Toro 5 minutes after our reserved tour was supposed to start, but we could still join. We decided to chose the big tour which involved more wine and a little introduction to how one recognizes good wine.
The tour itself was cute, but nothing to what I had remembered from the wine tasting tour my parents once did in France (with me and my sister following them around the wine cellar, totally impressed by what we saw (which was totally as described in Asterx in Rome) but not understanding anything the guide says nor being able to taste). We saw the wine barrels and learned about the differences of American oak and French oak, why it is lying in the cellar and that the old cellars are naturally cooled and with the optimal humidity, while the new ones above ground need to be constantly monitored. The oldest cellar of Concha y Toro is called “Casa de Diablo” as the legend tells that bottles were stolen from the cellar by employees, to which Don Melchior (founder of the vineyard) reacted by telling the people that the devil lived down there and that every month he came and took a bottle of the finest wine. The story made up was so powerful that the Christian and superstitious people that lived and worked on the vineyard got scared of that particular cellar and called it “Casa de Diablo”. No more bottles were stolen.
After the tour we had a wine tasting, where we were able to test 4 different wines of one of the top brands of Concha y Toro. Concha y Toro, being one of the biggest vineyards in the world with more than 8000ha, has many brands for all kinds of segments, prices and tastes. We tasted a Merlot, a Carmenère (Concha y Toros specialty), a Shiraz (Syrah), and a Cabernet Sauvignon. I liked them all but the Merlot, however, Carmenere and Shiraz were my favourites with the cheese and crackers we had. The really really good Cabernet would have been great if it had come with a heavy meal…
We learned about the colors, the smelling, taste and the way it sticks to the glass and I found it so interesting that I would do a wine course just to get to know more about it, but unfortunately, Goiania is not really the right place for it.
Our funny cab driver brought us back to the city center where we had a good lunch at a Peruvian restaurant with a cabernet sauvignon which allowed us to try out what we just had learned. We walked back to our hotel to pick up our luggage and stopped a cab to drive us to the airport. On the way we stopped at a wine store where Alastair and Franziska bought some wine and then we had to go to the airport quickly.
As always, lines were really long, and when it was really really time to check in I was 2nd in the line and one of the ladies from the counters came and started picking out people from behind me in the queue that had a flight that left 5 minutes before mine. I tried to talk to her, because out of a sudden there were ten or more people in front of me and my check-in was closing. She didn’t hear and so I started bitching at her in Spanish and finally she heard me. Franziska and Alastair who just needed to drop off baggage as they were able to check in online were already at the counter and made me signs to hurry, as it was closing (the lady told them they were lucky arriving 2 minutes before closure). So I just pushed the lady aside and went over to the counter where Franziska and Alastair were standing and checked in there. Of course the LAN-Airline girl wasn’t happy, but really: what do I care in that moment…

We had to fly a big detour over the Andes due to bad weather conditions and only got out of the airport with our luggage around 1:30am. My flight to Goiania would leave at 8am, so it really did not make any sense to go into the city to sleep on Franziskas couch and go back at 5am. Instead I took one of the free hotel transfer cars and slept in a very rundown, hostel like hotel in Guarulhos. But that was okay. At least I had some light hours of sleep (not much though, there was a very loud group of young, drunk, male Brazilians). I arrived in Goiânia on time and drove directly to the office. I was a little late, but noone noticed and I had had a really great weekend!

Chile! - Part 2: The Seaside

The next morning we got up early to go to the beach. Originally I had planned to go skiing with Franziska and her boyfriend, but the weather forecast predicted heavy snow and I figured this would not be the best surrounding to stand on (snow)skis for the first time in my life.
Driving out of the city was really nice and, again, looked a lot like south Germany / Switzerland… Unfortunately the view was blocked many times by clouds and rain. The street wound nicely through the mountains and after a while I saw the sea! The first time I see the sea on the other side of the equator happened to be in Chile!
We stopped in a small town where they had a few huts making a little market with fresh fish, sea food (among them the freshest scallops ever!) and some hand made clothing. It was really cute, but the most amazing part were the Pelicans that sat all around, waiting for some fish to fall off the tables.

We had lunch in a cute little restaurant by the sea, where I had an amazing dish with crab meat in a claypot and of course: Pisco Sour. Pisco Sour really advanced to one of my favourite drinks on that weekend.
The clouds slowly cleared and after lunch was over, one could see the coast line, and the town with its colored fisher boats and pretty houses built into the cliffs, still partlz hid in low clouds, gave a magical view.
I was so “awwww-ed” by the view, that I forgot to look on the ground and a view seconds later was lying on the same. My feet had gotten caught in a fishers net… Fortunately I was able to safe my camera by holding my arms up high, which, on the other hand, is anything what I have learned from falling as a child and protecting ONE SELF. Ah well, the knee shall shut up, the camera was saved…

We moved on along the coastline in order to reach Vina del Mar and Valparaíso, which by now can be considered twin cities.
Just before reaching Vina del Mar we passed a big rock, just off the cliff, where at least 50 sea lions were gathered with many young ones playing in the water. So cute! I could have watched forever! A little later I think I even saw some penguins…

In Valparaíso we parked the car and took a nice walk around the city. To get to the upper part, we took the “elevator” which reminded me of a San Francisco Cable car, but with a steeper slope.
The view across the city, which is a UNESCO World Heritage by the way, was very nice. Mountains and sea, and in between cute little houses in all kinds of colors, most of which reminding me of candy. Rose, baby blue, yellow, white, indigo… the list could be endless, really.

Back in Santiago we were really hungry and thus rushed into Consuelo’s favourite Pizza Place, with the best Pizza in town. It was crowded with young people but we were lucky to find a little table close to the wine display.
I had not reached Franziska the whole day, and as we overheard that there had been a big Avalanche across the road of the ski resort Franziska and Alastair wanted to go to, I got a little worried. Fortunately they had decided last minute that they rather take another, bigger tour of the city instead of skiing in the snow because 2 days later there were still around 1300 tourists trapped upon the mountain.

Chile! - Part 1: Santiago

Better late than never, I thought, and thus you can now read about my weekend trip to Chile.
As there are not international flights leaving Goiania Airport, I had to leave to Sao Paulo first and spend the night there. My flight left here on Friday night and arrived in Sao Paulo Guarulhos International Airport at 21h. Unfortunately I missed my bus into the city by mere two minutes, and had to wait for another 30 until the next would drive me to Congonhas, but if I have learned something in Brasil, waiting is definitely it…
Sandra picked me up in Congonhas and after a quick beer at her apartment we went to have a big and amazing Sushi Dinner. Of course, not without taking a picture and sending it to Kaoru in Tokyo!
We had a lot to talk about so we stayed up nearly all night and I just got half an hour of sleep until at 5am my taxi arrived to bring me back to Congonhas, to take the bus to Guarulhos, to finally board my plane to Santiago de Chile.

I slept the whole four hour flight and when we finally arrived I was all awake and happy to explore the city.
Once through the very tough customs with dogs and big machines to scan / x-ray all of my luggage to keep me from entering the country with plants, vegetables or any other living thing that might spread, I found Carlos, my friend and first term team mate from IE waiting for me.
We drove towards the city, which is built into a dent with the Andes in the back, and I swear it could have been Switzerland. The swiss impression of the country only changed when we passed the poorer parts of Santiago, but soon we were in the middle of a buzzing, very clean, and very modern city. I must admit: I loved the city from the very first moment on, even though it was cold (Goiania: 28°C, Santiago: 6°C) and rainy.

Carlos’ wife Consuelo was waiting for us at home and as soon as I had gotten rid of my luggage and unpacked my warm coat and scarf, we went to take a stroll through downtown. I just liked the city more and more. One can easily see that Chile is the most westernized country of South America and the clean little parks and spots to sit, the open cafés and the well maintained houses seem to have everything that Brasil is working on, yet still lacks.
We had a coffe in the main square and took a look at a little exhibition about Rapa Nui (Easter Islands) which lie far off the Chilean Coast, closer to Tahiti in fact than to the country they “belong” to.

As it was time for lunch, we went to a nice restaurant at the border of a big park and had amazing seafood for starters, together with fresh bread and a spicy type of tomato relish which Consuelo and I loved. Then I had something “typical Chilean”, a type of meat with a lot of sauce and spicy mashed potatoes. Technically, this could have also come from the “Schwabenländle” in south Germany, where they love mashed potatoes and everything as to swim in a nice meat sauce. I loved it. (yes yes, I keep repeating my love for Chile, but what shall I do, I am supposed to tell the truth here…)
On the way out Franziska reached me. Her and Alastair had taken a later plane and had now arrived in Santiago as well. We decided we would meet later at night for drinks, as I was invited to watch soccer and have some snacks together with Carlos’ family at his parents house.
Before we could think about more to eat though, we first had to walk off all the things we had just indulged ourselves with.
We took a route into the park and up the mountain until we reached a platform from where one could watch all over Santiago. The city was hid in a mix of clouds and smog, yet it was great to see how it was huddled against the mountains in the back.
A little higher up one had an even better view and could climb up to the statue that you can see on the pictures. It watched over Santiago, a little like the Jesus Statue watches over Rio de Janeiro. However it is a little smaller.

I was tired as hell when we reached Carlos’ and Consuelo’s home again, and so I took a little two hour nap before we left to watch the soccer game. Apparently my four hours of sleep on the plane weren’t as relaxing and deep as it had seemed…

We watched the soccer game at Carols’ family’s house and his mom had prepared all kinds of little tapas for us to eat. It was very yummy and even though I have no clue about soccer, I enjoyed it very much.
After the game, we went together with Carlos’ sister and her boyfriend to a nice area with bars where Franziska and Alastair were already waiting for us. We had a couple of beers and a nice chat.

Rainy Days in Chile

Text will follow later, here you find pictures of Santiago, Zapellar, Vina del Mar, Val Paraiso, the Beach and Concha y Tore Vineyard :)

Kafka was brazilian...

... or if not, whomever invented rules and laws on how administrativ things work in Brasil had just read Kafka and loved him.
Me, on the other hand, I do not like Kafka. I never thought he was interesting and when I had to read his books and stories in school I was just reassured, that Kafka really isn't my thing. But you always meet twice in life, and Kafka came back at me. Not in a book this time, but with an adjective that was purely invented for him and the way his stories work. Kafkaesque.

Wikipedia says:

"Kafkaesque" is an eponym used to describe concepts, situations, and ideas which are reminiscent of the literary work of Prague writer Franz Kafka, particularly his novels The Trial and The Castle, and the novella The Metamorphosis.

The term, which is quite fluid in definition, has also been described as "marked by a senseless, disorienting, often menacing complexity. [...]

Situations that are incomprehensibly complex, bizarre, or illogical.

If you have read my blog entry "What Pachaa is for Madrid..." then you have already gotten an idea of how bureaucratic things in Brasil are sometimes, even if it is just to get into a club. It led me to writing a series called "Kafka was brazilian..." of which you can read part one right here, right now.

Buying a TV.

Even though I am not a a big fan of TV, I sure am a big fan of movies and I do not like to watch them on the tiny screen of my tiny laptop. Thus, I needed a TV.
Well, I thought, that cannot be so hard. Its a TV. You go to the stores, look at the offers, pick one, take it home, plug it in. Done. Well, thats right, I THOUGHT.

Well, first of all, things tend to be sold out. I could pull out some comparisons to the former GDR now, but I won't ;) Afterall, I have just heard those stories from other people.
But it is true about Brazil. Stores do not like to keep a lot of anything in storage that is expensive, and while I can understand that, it bothered me while shopping for a TV.
Everytime I found one I liked it was sold out and the prices tend to jump up and down every day. But this cannot really be called kafkaesque, so here comes the real deal.

I finally had found a TV I want even though there was none left in storage (if there ever was one) but I could have the one standing in store. Quickly, I pulled out my debit/credit combi-card in order to pay my new TV and take it home.
First though, I needed to register in the store. Name, Adress, Phonenumber... ooops, system fail. Again, Name, Adress, Phonenumber... ooops, does not work, there is a, street number required for the adress and not just the buildings name. Mh, too bad, cause the city hasnt given out numbers yet (it is a new building in a new quarter). Okay, it will be 00.
I am registered. I get asked to please move over to the nice lady behind a bulletproof glas. The cashier.
When I try to pay though, it turns out that neither debit, nor credit, nor a combination work. My limit is too low. Limit?, I think, What limit? They never told me about any limit?! Its just a TV?!
The salesperson offered me I could go to the ATM and take out all money I can and see if it is enough. So I gave it a try, but my limit was 500R not enough for the TV... And keeping it and going again tomorrow for more and driving all across the city with so much money? No thank you.
I decided I would just go to the bank and pick up checks to pay the next day, and i was promised that they would keep the TV. Tomorrow at 10am, they said, we open and you can come and pay.

The next morning, it was 10:30, I was back at the store. Unfortunately, it was still closed. Due to rearrangement of the store, it would only open at 2pm it said on a big screen. Well, "re-arranging" the store?! The guy yesterday could have known that... oh well.

I came back at 16h and, oh, new sign: The store stays closed today. Thank you very much.

Well, there is still sunday. I went back to the store, and as it was closed the day before, they had kept there promise and noone has bought the TV. Actually, the price had even dropped. I pulled out my checkbook and was actually kinda happy to, for the first time in my life, pay with a check.
But oh. Registration. Registration? I just registered the last time?!
Well, for check payment one needs to register "completely". This includes, first of all, the CPF number. It is tax number and "Schufa" (for all you Germans) in one. Luckily I have a CPF number. Next would be my RG number. Unfortunately, I do not have an RG as foreigners do not get registered with an RG but with RNE (Registro Nacional para Estrangeiros - National Registry for Foreigners or something like it). The stores system luckily took RNEs and although I do not have my RNE card yet ( it takes half a year to be made) I was able to proof with many discussions, the protocol of the RNE application and the system print of the RNE Filing (with all its stamps and stickers) that I was really registered and thus allowed to buy things. But although I registered in the stores system with my RNE as a foreigner, when it asked for my birthdate, parents information and birthplace it unfortunately asked for a state and only had brazilian states in the dropdown menu. Berlin with its wonderful postalcode of 14057 was not found in any state, and there was no way to find the postal code to some, maybe existing, Berlin somewhere in Brasil. We left it all empty to see what else is coming up.
I was supposed to give them two telephone numbers in Goiânia as a reference for me being able to pay. Or, just in case I won't pay. Now, I did absolutely not feel comfortable with giving away two of the three phonenumbers I new so far in Goiânia.
Not being registered, would leave the option of writing a check to the store and to come back two days later to see if the check had worked out and if the TV was paid. If so, I could take it home then. But really, I felt even more uncomfortable with that option, thus check book was now officially ruled out.

As I nearly had expected something like this, I had brought my German credit card. The German system works with signatures, while the brazilian always works with 4-digit pins. My card ran through smoothly and though it hurt a bit knowing that the money would be taken off from a bankaccount in Germany that receives no more salary but gets deducted for a student loan every month (more about this in the next Kafka Story) at least the receipt popped out and I I finally owned my TV.
Wait, was that real? Can it really be paid without a pin? Another discussion and explanation later it was decided. Yes. It was real, and I could take the TV home.

They packed up the TV and loaded into the back of my car. It now stands here and is great. But these registry and system things can really drive you nuts. Wait until you hear more about them...