Paying Taxes

I got two letters the other day. Both from the tax and finance people; the "Autoridade Tributária" or, as they are more commonly known, the "Finanças" office. Of course they were written in Portuguese and so needed some translation. One of them was really quite strange and even with Google Translate it was difficult to make out what it was going on about, although to be honest, I didn't try very hard. The other was clearly a bill of some kind, which had me a little worried, and also very curious since as far as I was aware I did not owe any taxes. Furthermore, they were late, due to being sent to the wrong address and consequently forwarded through my wife's work and finally, to me. Very worrying indeed.

On Tuesday I took the letters in to the office at work and was told that there had been a mistake and that I needed to take them down to the Finanças office in Cascais as soon as possible and sort the matter out. I do not work on Tuesday afternoons, so that is exactly what I did. Armed with my letters, my Kindle and a bottle of water I went down there prepared. Prepared to wait. And wait. And....Wait. I've been to the finance office before you see and knew exactly what to expect. Just inside the door is a ticket dispenser with five buttons on. I had been advised by a friend to press each button once to get a numbered ticket for each department and sit down to wait. And I was tempted to do that for a fleeting moment. However, there were clearly many signs up on the wall in very plain Portuguese that you should only press once. (Yes, even with my basic Portuguese I understand that "bilhete", "botão" and "número" mean "ticket", "button" and "number" respectively!) I scanned the options and pressed button number 3. It had some words printed next to it and one of them was what I recognised to be the word for Tax. Out came my ticket at the bottom of the machine. B102. Lovely. Time to take a seat and open my Kindle. Judging by the numbers displayed on the screen on the wall it was inevitable that I'd have to wait for some considerable time before I was seen.

So, there I sat, reading my book, looking up periodically at the wall mounted television screen, watching the numbers tick over, one by one. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably more realistically only 20 or 30 minutes, my number came up indicating that the person at Desk 7 was ready and waiting to attend to my dilemma. Fortunately, he spoke English. I found out that the first letter was asking me to declare my IVA, which I'm led to understand is a little bit like National Insurance or Social Security or something like that which should be dealt with every three months. The second letter was a fine for not making that declaration. The nice man then told me that he could alter my details to prevent my mail being sent to the wrong address again but that I needed to see his colleague a few desks along, who would be able accept my payment for the fine that I had incurred. So, dutifully, I went and sat back down on one of the colourful plastic chairs to read and to wait once more for B102 to re-appear on the magical television screen. Eventually, after finishing two short books and giving up completely on a very heavy thesis regarding the nature of the emergent entropic nature of gravity, my number came up again. Unfortunately the lady at this desk did not speak English but with the help of my trusty dictionary I managed to deduce two things. Firstly, that she couldn't help me. Secondly, that I needed to go and wait for my number to come up on the screen and indicate which of the dedicated payment desks at the end of the room to go to and pay my fine. And so, yet again, I retired to the comfort of my plastic chair.

It was twenty five minutes to four. I had entered the building and first retrieved my ticket at ten past two. I knew that for certain because it was printed on the ticket. The office closed at four o'clock and from the increasing number of empty plastic chairs I was hopeful that I would be seen, for hopefully the third and last time, before closing. One by one the numbers on the screen changed and I waited. One by one the people working the office attended to what was obviously their last client and vacated their desks. By four fifteen I was the only person sitting and waiting. Also I had noticed that the numbers on the television screen had not changed for the last ten minutes. At this point I realised that maybe, just maybe, I had been told to get a new ticket and wait? I suppose I'll never know. I discretely got up and made for the door.

Yesterday I took the letter to a cash machine to pay the fine. The instructions on the reverse of the letter were clear enough. I had to make a few menu selections and then input the 15 digit reference number. Two minutes later and the fine was paid. It was almost too easy. I wish I'd realised how easy when I was sitting and waiting at the Finanças office on Tuesday.

I've booked an appointment on Monday with the head finance guy where I work, to talk to him about what happened, why it went wrong and to make sure that it doesn't happen again. And hopefully that will be the end of the matter.

The Lessons To Be Learnt

1. Always make sure that the tax people know where you live.
2. Always make sure that you deal with any erroneous letters from the tax office swiftly.
3. Always take a book.

I just have to sort out my UK tax now, before the deadline of January 31st.

A Thoroughly Enjoyable Weekend

I hope that you all had fantastic weekends. I certainly did. The weather (Here I go again!) didn't quite live up to expectations, but it was warm enough even though the clouds persisted in obscuring the sun for the most part.

After work on Friday I was really quite tired, but despite my lethargy, I decided to go to the bar anyway where a couple of hours ticked by over what was probably two or three too many bottles of Sagres. Talk was made of the impending and important match between Estoril and Benfica due to be played out on Sunday evening. Meanwhile the news played out on the television, complete with the ever present and very handy "ticker tape" device across the bottom of the screen allowing for at least some basic level of understanding of the news to be had.

Saturday morning and my better half graciously let me lie in for a while. Ta. Then shopping. I had a some jeans to exchange and a newspaper to buy. The shops were busy with New Year Sales and the now somewhat stale Nativity Scene was still there, with surprisingly, some persistent interest from parents wanting to photograph their children in front of the scene. I'm guessing that the nativity will not be there for much longer and probably by next weekend it will be replaced by a raised up stage with a shiny new car on top or a kiosk proffering introductory rates on a new credit card. Thankfully I didn't have to be there long since my lovely wife had offered to spare me the supermarket anguish and do the grocery shopping herself later. Again, Ta!

Saturday afternoon was the time for Adventure, at least for some of us. My eldest had decided just before Christmas that he wanted to join the local scout troop and so after some investigation on Google Maps on my wife's part and a request that I key in the address of the Scout Hut in to our new Sat Nav, She and He bundled themselves into the car and set off for an afternoon of high adventure at the Scout Hut and the Supermarket. Meanwhile, with the two youngest suitably entertained with new DVD cartoons, I settled down with my newspaper and the dictionary for my own afternoon of adventure. "A Bola" is the Portuguese sporting newspaper, obviously focusing largely on football, and I wanted to both learn more about the importance of Sunday's match and also practice my Portuguese. I turned the pages until I found an article about Estoril Praia, opened up my dictionary to the Portuguese half and proceeded to translate as best I could. It was slow going. But worth it I think. Firstly because it opened my eyes a little to the colloquialisms of the author's writing style; I had to do a double take when my dictionary returned the word "Canary", which of course was perfectly correct as Estoril play in yellow! However, more importantly, next time I will grab myself a pen and notebook too, if only to extend the longevity with which the information stays in my brain.

Sunday morning and, as I had promised myself in my previous post, my family and I made our way towards the sea. We'd packed up a a towel and a change of clothes for the kids who, of course, always seem to get completely soaking wet even though they only paddle in the surf up to their ankles. We'd also managed to squeeze a radio controlled car and two scooters into the boot of the car too for the kids to entertain themselves with along the promenade. This was a good plan it seems, since having the toys to entertain them meant that they didn't moan like fury at having to walk all the way between Monte Estoril and Cascais. What was not such a good plan was leaving the rucksack containing the changes of clothes in the car! As predicted the kids wanted to go down on the beach, and as predicted they wanted to go paddling, and, as predicted, got completely soaking wet.

We ate out for our Sunday lunch, which was a trifle extravagant, but delicious all the same. The Taj Mahal. the world's only (at least in my understanding) Indian Italian restaurant. Which is great for our family, since the two little ones don't much like Indian food, but like most little ones, absolutely adore pizza. Then, with full bellies, we walked (or scooted) back along the promenade to Monte Estoril where we'd parked the car. Driving back home we of course have to pass the football stadium where I would shortly be witness to the downfall of Benfica against the awesome might of the Estoril Canaries. There were already more than a few stalls set up outside the ground selling Benfica merchandise and roasted chestnuts, and the road was seemingly busier than it usually is at that time of day, but probably due to the slower traffic caused by people rubber necking at the presence of the TV trucks and Police cars.

I had previously arranged to meet up with my amigos at the local bar for a couple of beers before the match, which is exactly what we did. Also at the bar was a guy called Jamie, who we'd been introduced to a while back. Jamie (which I'm sure is just the English version of his real name) played as goalkeeper for Estoril Praia back in the late 70's and early 80's and is something of a local legend in the neighbourhood. And he always buys us English guys a drink. He told us that he wasn't going to the stadium to watch the match because he was torn between supporting Estoril or Benfica. Apparently it is quite common in Portugal to support two teams, unlike the very British paradigm of fiercely backing your local team even though they might be struggling to stay afloat at the bottom of the third division. And when we got down to the stadium ourselves we were genuinely surprised at how few yellow scarves and hats there were on show. I guess that an awful lot of the usual Estoril supporters had put their yellows away and got their Benfica reds out of their closets. Predicatably, Benfica won, but we took solace in the fact that Estoril managed to at least put one away into the back of the net, against Benfica's three.

All in all, a good weekend. And mostly because I made some time to do the things I enjoy and enjoy the things I did. I spent time with my family on the seafront. We spent some money and ate out. And my team played the biggest match of the season. What a fantastic weekend!

Happy New Year!

Well I certainly hope it is going to be a very happy year for me. It's definitely started off well. I returned from the UK with some new touch screen gadgets to play with and the fabulous gift of an enormous 3kg sack of Yorkshire Teabags. (You know who you are - Many Thanks!) The tea should last me an age, which is absolutely great, but more importantly I don't have to waste my hard earned cash buying tiny overpriced boxes of 20 Tetley string-tagged teabags, which I swear are much weaker than English teabags. Of course the children are very happy too, playing with all the new toys and games that my wife and I (well, mostly my wife) managed to squeeze into the suitcases. And they'll be even happier still when the stuff that wouldn't fit arrives courtesy of DHL (and also the Grandparents!) in a large heavy parcel.

I mentioned in my last post that when I landed back here on New Year's Eve it was raining, indeed, quite heavily. The drive home from the airport was not a nice one, with visibility severely limited to just a hundred yards or so. Thankfully the traffic was slow and everyone was being very careful on the motorway. Since then however the sun has shone, and shone. And shone. It has been so lovely and warm, especially in the afternoons. I myself follow a couple of other blogs written by expats now living here, and they all agree that the weather over the last few days has been utterly perfect. The only downside to this sunny weather is of course being back at work and therefore trapped indoors. I can only hope that the good weather keeps up until the weekend.

Talking of work, I've been handed a few extra hours this year to bolster up my part time position a little more. While extra hours does indeed mean extra work and less time for other activities, such as blogging for example, it does obviously also mean a little extra dinheiro in the bank account, which is never a bad thing. I can only hope that this pattern continues and my part time position evolves into a full time one. Only time will tell, and in my line of work, that time should be before fairly soon. I'm very fortunate to have a job that I enjoy, in a fantastic setting with stunning views over the river estuary, and especially on a day like today, between working and blogging my way through the lunch hour, when the sky is clear and I look out over the trees I count myself very lucky to work where I do.

I really do hope that the weather keeps up over the weekend and that I have time to get out and down to the seafront. (Damn it, I'll make the time!) Perhaps, hopefully, I'll take some nice pictures for a long overdue photo-blog. I'll walk along the promenade. Perhaps I'll even stop for a while at one of the bars for an ice cream or a leisurely beer. And who knows, maybe I'll take off my shoes, and my socks, go down onto the beach and let the sand squidge up between my toes...

An English Christmas - Part 2

Happy New Year! Or perhaps I should say, "Feliz Ano Novo!" as I'm firmly back on Portuguese soil again. Either way, the Christmas Holiday in England seems to have flown by and it definitely feels like I'm home again. Especially so this morning. I've now landed at Lisbon airport twice, firstly when I moved out here back in August 2011 and then once again last night, and both times I've been greeted with torrential rain, however this morning the sun was shining brightly and the sky was clear and blue. It feels nice to be home.

So, where was I? That's right, leaving for a seven hour drive to a tiny desolate mid Welsh village to stay at my wife's parent's cottage for Christmas. Over the following days we were treated to bellyfuls of delicious home cooked food and lazy rainy days by a warming fire. On the evening of the 23rd, after the kids were safely tucked up in bed, my wife and I headed out in the dark, armed with a torch and a deep yearning for a proper pint of real ale, down the lane to the local village pub, only to discover that it was closed! Thankfully this situation was rectified the following evening when the place was packed to the rafters for their "Massive Xmas Eve Quiz" which we stumbled in on during the last few questions. If only we'd known, we might have made plans to get there earlier!

On the 27th we headed out on a much shorter journey, to see my family in Leicestershire. The rain actually stopped for most of the way out of Wales, although it didn't hold off for long and had started again by the time we arrived. Two more "Christmas Days" to do, one at my Father's and one at my Brother's, both of which went well. The presents were opened. The kids ecstatic. More delicious food consumed. The Leicestershire leg of the journey was topped off with a day at Nottingham Ice Rink. The two eldest had once previously attempted roller skating in school PE lessons, but all three were complete novices regarding ice skating and I was unsure how they would take to it, especially my youngest. Fortunately the arena had some toys to aid balancing, including a blue plastic zimmer frame, a plastic orange dolphin and a happy colourful penguin, for the little ones to hold or sit on and have fun with. I really didn't expect them to have the stamina to last the entire afternoon on the rink, but bless them, they stuck at it and thoroughly enjoyed the ice.

And now we're home again. It's New Year's Day and we've spent the morning doing our very own Christmas Day IV. Admittedly a much smaller affair than Christmas's I, II and III, but nonetheless still very exciting, especially for the little ones who had yet more presents to open. Christmas Dinner IV was also a little less extravagant too, since we arrived back home to empty cupboards and closed supermarkets. Still, it has been fun today watching the children unwrap more gifts and play with them. It was lovely taking them out to find some good places to drive the new radio controlled car and it was nice to watch them making a complete mess with their new "Paint Your Own Bowls" craft sets. My youngest and I even managed to find some time this afternoon to make some mince pies!

It has indeed been a frantic Christmas and I hope that you too had just as an enjoyable one as I did. It was great to see family again and spend the Christmas season with them. Now I'm looking forward to the sunny summer weather and perhaps a few visitors from England coming over this way....