Inner workings of Peruvian bureaucracy

In my passport saga I had contact with the Peruvian police, immigrations, DHL shipping, the bank, and the US consulate (oh and the radio station). Along the way I made a few interesting observations:

1. The regular police (who I flagged down on the street) had to drive me to the tourist police. Yes, there are many types of police, only 2 of which I have yet come to know, but I estimate there's easily dozens. I know there's a special one for reporting your husband for abuse too.

2. In making my "denouncement" to the tourist police (at 2am), I found a small room with 3 people all sitting at separate desks in front of 3 brand-new computers. Despite the presence of these perfectly good computers, they wanted me to first hand-write an account of what happened. Then one of the workers took my hand-written account and hand-copied it into a spiral notebook. Now why I couldn't have orally recounted my story while someone simultaneously typed it into one of their fancy computers is beyond me.

3. I had to pay for both a copy of my police report and for a new migrations card. However, I could not pay for these things at the police station or at the migrations office. Instead I had to carry a bill to the National Bank, where I stood in line for a long time in order to pay, then take my receipt proving I had paid back to the appropriate offices. Apparently this is to limit the number of people who handle cash, so the moolah doesn't disappear. A lot of wandering around Cuzco and standing in lines for nothing, I say. No wonder the banks always have the longest lines ever. (Oh and when I returned to the police station to get my copy, it had been typed up. I guess that process required a separate worker (besides the 3 who were sitting there playing computer games) who was a specially qualified typing master.

4. I also have daily contact with the army, since some sort of military housing (I assume for high-ranking officials because all of the houses are super-nice compared to the surrounding area, with lawns (very unusual), gates, garages, and nice cars (the very very nicest cars I've seen in Cuzco are 2005ish Toyotas)) is located just down the street from me/the clinic, and it is "guarded" by non-officer military personnel. However, these "guards" seem more concerned with making catcalls and whistling after me than doing their jobs.