bout de papier, Vol. 28, No. 2 (2014) — Summer 2014 // Été 2014, pp. 32–33
Protocol road racing!
A properly organized motorcade provides an essential first impression for a visiting dignitary. If smoothly executed, it literally gets a visit off to a good start. Thus, we place considerable effort on getting it right. In Brazil in the early 1980s we received the visit of our foreign minister. It was decided from on high that he would visit the capital, Brasilia, the industrial/commercial centres of Säo Paulo and Rio de Janeiro and one of the poorer states of Brazil’s northeast. I was placed in charge of the logistics, especially the motorcade, for the final leg of the visit.
to protect the innocent), from Brazil’s highly professional foreign ministry, arrived early in the state capital to coordinate the final arrangements with the local protocol office prior to the Minister’s arrival. State protocol consisted of two people, neither of whom had any experience with high-level visits, no sense of the importance of ensuring events took place on time, nor any apparent interest in the visit. We began the motorcade discussion with Paulo proffering small Canadian and Brazilian flags to be met by blank stares. He explained that these were for the motorcycle escort, again met by blank stares. In response to “you are going to use a motorcycle escort?!” they muttered that they intended to lead off with a jeep sporting a blue flashing light on the roof. Hmmm…OK.
The great day arrived. The motorcade was assembled, in all its glory. The jeep was ready to lead the parade, followed by the “protocol car”, a beat-up Passat for myself and Paulo. Next came the Governor’s huge armoured limo, followed by his campaign bus (complete with bar, swivel captain’s chairs, television) for the rump of the delegation. When all participants were settled into their respective vehicles, Paulo gave a dignified hand signal for the jeep to proceed. The jeep left in a cloud of burnt rubber and dust, never to be seen again. The “protocol car” then became lead car and off we went at a sedate pace. Our driver, a young fellow in his late teens, did well at first, but gradually became more and more excited. The speed of the convoy increased dramatically, and despite our shouts/entreaties to slow down and Paulo frantically pounding him on the back, the driver excitedly explained “I’ve never done this before. It’s great!” We wove through traffic down a major artery at well over 120 km/hr with motorists shouting insults at us and gesturing in a decidedly unfriendly fashion. At one point, I wondered where the Minister’s car might be. Glancing out the back window, the monstermobile loomed about six inches from our back bumper. I tried to ignore it after that.
We arrived at the hotel, surely in record time. As collateral damage — the “protocol car” being somewhat ancient, ill-used, with no carpets in the rear, and loose floor panels —Paulo and I were covered with a layer of reddish/orangey road dust which had blown up through the cracks in the floor. Originally sporting black suits, we now looked for all the world like a pair of orange Meerkats. To add insult to injury, the Canadian flag we had given to the hotel was flying upside-down.
We had been warned the Minister was not comfortable with travelling at speed. We hastily clambered out of the infamous protocol car and watched, anxiously, as the Minister emerged from the limo somewhat shaken. We made suitably soothing noises as we drew him (and his attention) into the lobby and away from the upside down maple leaf. Fortunately the rest of the visit went rather well, logistically, and we ensured that the return to the airport was conducted at a more sedate pace. Thankfully my posting was almost over and I was able to flee the country before the next ministerial visit.
The “Brazilian Miracle”
With the FIFA World Soccer Cup in Sao Paulo wrapped up, Rio de Janiero is getting ready for the next great sports carnival, the 2016 Olympic summer games. Like FIFA organizers before them, the International Olympic Committee is concerned that the facilities may not be ready on time… but they may have forgotten that Brazil is the hands-down gold medalist in a little known “Olympic” sport I like to call “The Brazilian Miracle”. It’s a variant of the sprint: There is a strong belief in the country that although preparations may lag, Brazilians can put on a last-minute burst of activity and it will all come together. They have a point:
Shortly after I arrived at the Embassy in Brazil in 1980, I was sent to the northeastern city of Recife for the opening of a Canadian art exhibit we sponsored entitled “Hard Edge”. The exhibit was to arrive in Recife from Belem about two weeks in advance of the opening, and my arrival was set for Sunday afternoon before the Monday vernissage. I was met at the airport and taken to my hotel by an official from the state arts council. As he left me in the lobby of the hotel he said he would pick me up at 9:00 Monday to take me to the arts council. While leaving, he smiled and told me that the exhibit hadn’t arrived yet. My Portuguese wasn’t all that fluent at that time, so I wondered if I had mis-heard. I spent a rather restless evening and night.
Next morning at pick-up, I asked if I had heard him correctly, and he confirmed rather airily that, indeed, the exhibit hadn’t arrived. I phoned the Embassy when we got to his office, and found out a bit later that the Governor of the state of Belem had held on to the exhibit for a private showing that very evening. My Locally Engaged Information Officer threatened them with the Ambassador, the Brazilian Foreign Minister and anyone else she could think of (Don’t you just love LES?), and ordered them to get the exhibit to Recife that afternoon. The best she could arrange was arrival at the airport in Recife at 17:15 (the vernissage — with television, radio, governor of the state, et al, was to begin at 19:00).
The arts council staff’s response was magnificent. They arranged a truck with police motorcycle escort to take the exhibit from the tarmac to the museum. The truck arrived at 18:00 (or so), and we had under an hour to place over 80 large paintings. About five of us pulled frames out of travelling boxes, charged over to the curator of the exhibit, who made an immediate decision and pointed to a panel. After 45 minutes of frantic activity we all gathered around the curator in a state of shock and awe. The exhibit looked fantastic — as if we had taken many painstaking hours to finesse the arrangement. Into the sudden silence our champion curator (the only one of us who remained cool and collected) raised her index finger and said: “That’s what we call the Brazilian Miracle!” We laughed, cheered and opened the doors to greet the public.
David Bickford is a retired Foreign Service Officer with a wry sense of humour nurtured through long experience in Latin America and with the International Assessment Staff at PCO.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 28, No. 2 (2014) — Summer 2014 // Été 2014, pp. 32–33. Read the rest of this issue →
