Seville Snapshots: Bartering at the Plaza de España

The first (and one of very, very few) feeling I ever had of notoriety was from one Cassandra Gambill, who started following my blog way back before I knew theat people were actually reading. Naturally, I was thrilled when she chose to come to Spain a few years ago and blog about, so I gladly accepted her submission from her most recent trip to Seville.

Rediscovering Sevilla after a brief trip south in 2007, I had to rectify my image of this Andalusian town. When I had originally visited, preparations for the subway system left the city dirty and dusty. Whenever I saw photos of iconic Sevilla, I couldn’t recognize them as anything I’d seen, including the beautifully tiled Plaza de España.

Even though the day was overcast when I finally made it back to Sevilla, I immediately appreciated the grandeur and color of this sophisticated square. Speaking of color, there were plenty of local characters who also made the place a feast for the eyes and ears. In this corner alone there were lovey-dovey locals, backpacking-toting tourists, a scarf-and-abanico vendor, and a wandering woman hoping to plant rosemary sprigs on unsuspecting sightseers.

——–

Going on her third year in the Spanish capital, Cassandra Gambill is now working towards a Master’s in Bilingual Education at the Universidad de Alcalá de Henares. Her motto? Where there’s a will there’s a way, and where’s a puente, there’s a trip in the making.

 

You can follow Cassandra via her blog and twitter:

Blog: www.geecassandra.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/geecassandra

Things I’ve Gotten Better at Since Moving to Spain

Coming from a family of teachers (and officially calling myself one on paper), my mother always taught me the value in learning outside the classroom. Though she counts on her fingers, lady’s a wiz with fractions, teaching my sister and I as we baked Christmas cookies. She taught us animal care by taking us weekly to the barn to groom and feed our first family pet, Pudge, and made us join Girl Scouts.

Any wonder who was my biggest supporter when I decided to move to Spain?

I was recently talking to my friend Gonzalo, one of the Novio’s compañeros from the military academy who lives in Zaragosa. He told me that his parents were amazed at how I’d come to Spain alone and with very little Spanish…and then stayed.

Call it the evolution of a species if you like: adapt or die.

I’ve learned to live without peanut butter, accept that baking here is nothing like it was in Nancy’s kitchen, and spend copious amounts of time on Facebook and Skype in the name of staying involved back home. But, with all of this, I’ve also learned a thing or two and have improved skills that I never thought would be necessary.

Parallel Parking

Recently, my friend Sandra of Seville Traveller and I were attending the Evento Blog España. The rain was pouring down, so we took her car to a nearby barrio for lunch. I watched as she maneuvered her compact car into an even tinier parking spot in a garage littered with cars, scooters and the like.

I’m American, from a place with wide open (parking) spaces, often the diagonal type that are simple to pull in and out of. Coming to live in a place like Spain means that I’ve had to adapt to their bumper kissing, doble fila and maneuvering Kike’s enormous vehicle when it’s my turn to drive. Something to work on? My tendency to panic when driving in a place I don’t know.

This, of course, has not been without oops moments – two years ago, Kike’s tank of a car got a big scratch from my carelessness when pulling it into a parking space, rather than backing it in.

Eating fish

Nothing says Midwesterner like my love for beef and grain. I accidentally consumed fish before realizing that I actually liked it. Since I had never learned names of fish and seafood, I often ordered sea creatures – as well as tripe stew, kidneys and coagulated blood – without knowing what I was really eating.

I’ve also learned how to clean it properly, from pulling the ink sacs and backbone out of a chipirón to lifting the bones of a white fish. It reminds me of a picture of my sister and I during a fishing trip in Wisconsin when we pinched our noses and stuck out our tongues as my father cleaned and grilled the perch we’d caught – it seems I’ve come full circle.

Travel has also made me an adventurous eater, in that I’m the first to try whatever is on the menu – even bugs, weird organs and live oysters.

Cutting Onions Without Crying

When I met Melissa, she told me that part of our monthly rent would go towards things we’d need in the house: cleaning supplies, olive oil and onions.

Onions have also crept into my diet just as fish have, but the hardest thing was learning to cut them without crying – I used to have to wear sunglasses to stay dry! Now, I usually cry while cooking the onions, but that could just be the smoke.

The secret? Doing it fast and cutting on a slant.

Sticking up for Myself

When studying for the DELE exams last November, I had Kike read all of my writing prompts. His conclusion is that I’m really good at reclamaciones, or complaint letters. I used to be the girl who would gulp down food that should have been sent back, or turn on my heel and not stand up to the funcionarios when they turn me away.

That all changed when a taxi driver took me the wrong way and wanted to charge me for it. I asked him to leave me at a cross street, but he insisted it was a shortcut and that would take me to where I needed to go. When I asked him to leave me off and let me walk the rest of the way, he tried to charge me the full amount. I insisted on him stopping the meter, leaving me a receipt and taking down his licence number. With that, he charged me just half and let it go.

I’ve learned to be proactive and not let people or silly rules walk all over me. Not the Vodafone salesman can turn me away when I start running my mouth about how they never signed me up for the insurance I had paid for on my bills, or to a nurse who was verbally abusive to a friend (we filled out a claim in the much-advertised LIBRO DE RECLAMACIONES). I’ve also told a few little lies to the people in extranjería to help speed up the process of getting paperwork done.

In Spain’s current economic situation, people are trying to squeeze as much out of every person as they can, which means that foreigners sometimes bear the brunt of their bad service and overcharging. Being assertive won’t cost you anything.

I still think I’m a little lost guiri whose luck just happens to never run out. Living abroad is a test in patience and resilience, yes, but it’s a lot about stepping back, taking a deep breath and remembering that it could happen the same way in your country.

What have you learned to do better during your time abroad? What do you want to improve on?

Dancing in the Fountain: Enjoy Living Abroad Book Giveaway

I’m five minutes early, and there’s just one table left. It’s in the sun and cramped between two groups of German travelers. Karen strides in with just a moment to spare, wearing her signature animal prints. While there’s a gap in age between us, Karen is the type of friend you can have who personifies “Age is just a number.”

I’m eager to catch up with Karen over coffee and talk about her new book, Dancing in the Fountain: How to Enjoy Living Abroad. I devoured the book on a trip this summer though the Eastern seaboard, often subjected to gut-busting laughter and the wise head nods. The book was, in short, delightful.

As someone who loves travel books, Karen’s story of how she and her husband, Rich, moved to Seville is what Maria Foley calls a “love letter to the Andalusian capital.” Indeed, Karen captures the essence of Seville – its people, its food, its quirks that drive every single one of us crazy, all while deepening our love for this enchanting place. The perfect book for dreaming about getting away, of starting over in a new country and making it all work. 

As we are getting ready to part ways, I reach into my bag to find my wallet is empty. In an oh-so-Spanish move, Karen shoes my hand away and offers up a five euro note. “This will more than take care of it,” she says with a slight smile.

After getting back home later that day, I write my friend to apologize again about the coffee. Her reply is quick and telling: It’s happened to all of us.

Photo by the man in the hat himself, Rich McCann, at Karen’s book party

Just like your friend from toda la vida might say on any other sunny day in Seville.

The Contest

Karen has graciously agreed to donating a paperback copy of Dancing in the Fountain: How to Enjoy Living Abroad to one of my readers, and I’m willing to ship it anywhere.

In order to win, I’d like you to tell us, in 25 words or less, why you’d like to live abroad, or why you chose to if you’re already here. You can earn more chances to win by following Karen and I on twitter or liking our Facebook pages, but we’re both interested in hearing what you have to say about packing up and moving to unknown lands.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Contest begins today and will run two weeks. I’ll send the winner, who will be generated randomly, the signed book to any corner of this great big Earth. But wait! I’m also going to give away a $15 Amazon gift card to the reader with the best answer, judged by and agreed on by both Karen and me.

For more information about Karen and her book, visit her webpage or follow her on twitter at @enjoylvngabroad. If you’ve read this book and enjoyed it, let her know! You can also find the book in both Paperback and Kindle version here: Dancing In The Fountain: How to Enjoy Living Abroad.

Five Places You’ll Wait in Line in Spain

I asked my First Certificate students to tell me their strengths and weaknesses during our last class. We were talking about how personality factors into the type of job you choose and your success in your profession.

My weakness? I am crazy impatient (an obvious reason to not teach babies). The problem with living in Spain, then, is the amount of waiting one has to do in order to be a productive human in society here. Even the simplest of tasks can take an enormously long time, and with the ongoing stream of budget cuts, there are less personnel in the office and more people free in the am to stand in line.

source

 Extranjería

By far the biggest place you’ll waste your time in Spain is at the Foreigner’s Office. Getting a NIE is a three-step process, asking information requires parking it on an uncomfortable plastic bench for hours and arriving after 7am ensures that you’re likely to not receive a number. The hours (perhaps days) I’ve spent in the office – particularly when trying to determine my status in 2010 after losing the Ministry of Education grant – are immeasurable.

There are ways to make the whole experience a little bit better, but listening to people tell you their sob stories while you’re surrounded by one of Seville’s most enchanting plazas is just torturous. My advice is to arrive later in the morning, after all of the civil servants have had a chance to eat breakfast, bring extra photocopies of everything and to be polite, even when the funcionario sends you away for the third time in one morning. Being polite can go a long way to a civil servant who’s really just wishing you’d get out of her hair so she can chat with the guy at the desk next to hers.

Bank

Banker’s hours in Spain tend to be 8:15 – 14:15. This means, of course, if you’re a normal human being, that you can’t make it in to pay bills, make a deposit or complain that your card has been swallowed up again. What’s more, Saturdays and Sundays mean the place is chapá.

To avoid the line waiting, and banks for the most part, I’d sign up for either La Caixa, which offers great rates for students under 26 and a full-service ATM that allows you to do everything from deposit your check to top up your bonobus at any hour of the day. Likewise, ING Direct offers extended hours AND they’re open on Saturdays (you’ll just need a paycheck stub to open a cuenta nómina).

Post Office

Another place you’ll wait in line, thanks to budget cuts, is the post office. In Spain, your address assigns you to a certain correos office. Mine happens to be a 15-minute bike ride from my house, while there is one not 250 meters from my front door.

While I was home visiting Chicago, I won a book contest put on by Books4Spain. The book was sent to my house, but no one was home to receive it. A notice was left in my mailbox to pick it up at the correos office, so I found a bit of time to go immediately the first morning I was back in Seville, arriving just as the doors opened. I was the fifteenth person in line, but still waited 45 minutes for them to tell me my book was returned two months earlier. Word to the wise: if a letter or package is not picked up within 15 days, it goes back to the sender, though if it’s not a certified letter, you can send someone else in your name, so long as they carry a piece of paper giving them the power to do so, signed by you with your NIE number.

Frustrated, I got a tostada with ham and a big cup of coffee. Even at the crack of dawn, the place was still packed!

Government Buildings

Recently, I had to get a page of stickers with my IRS tax code on it. I walked into the Hacienda building at opening time on a Monday morning and was delighted to find only half a dozen seats full. I got a number and watched the screen. Only one person was in line in front of me, so I turned on my Kindle and began reading.

…and waited for nearly 45 minutes. When my number was finally called, the three women behind the desk were sitting, chattering away. I cleared my throat. Nothing. Being the cara dura I am, I finally asked for their assistance and a woman slowly rose and wordlessly took my passport. No more words were exchanged while I stood for an additional five minutes waiting for her to print my stickers. If only I could have used TurboTax Online, things would have been so much easier.

Let’s face it, I was cutting into her breakfast time. She had reason to be mad.

Be it Hacienda or even the Distrito office, allot way more time than you think necessary. And bring a book.

Supermarket on Saturday

Everyone is here, since they’re all closed on Sundays. Even I have thrown my hands up in an, “Ok, Spain! You win today!” gesture as I drop my potato chips and litronas of beer at the counter and walk out. I can wait if it’s important enough, but why wait for beer if I can walk across the street for a fresquita anyway?

Rules for Waiting in Line

People in Spain tend to ask the person in front of them to save their place in line. When I say their place in line, I also mean their place in line with their whole family, who will take turns standing their place.

Banks are utterly confusing if there’s a lot of chairs available. Whenever a new patron comes in, he or she will as for el último? and memorize that person’s face. It’s up to you to remember who you’re after and to be aware that people are ruthless when it comes to money matters.

There are VERY special rules for the abuelitas. They’ll come at you, all nice and calling you hija and corazón and mi arma, just one loaf of bread and some eggs in their frail little arms. Then, once you’ve given into the cuteness of little María de los Sietes Dolores, she’ll call over her granddaughter and the cart full of everything Dolores will need for the three weeks of winter she hibernates and cooks for her two dozen children and grandchildren. DO NOT, under any circumstances, give into an abuelita!

Have any more to add, Spain dwellers? Where do the rest of you expats wait in line in your respective countries?

How to Get a Carné Jóven Andaluz

Ah, youth. The period of your life where everything is confusing, the future is uncertain and where you rely – perhaps more heavily than necessary – on others to stay afloat. Even as a 27-year-old living in another country, I still feel like I’m in this not-quite-an-adult limbo (like the Britney Spears song).

But don’t worry, guiri friends. The government has got your back on this one!

With the unemployment rate in Spain climbing as fast as our taxes, the Andalusian government became the first autonomy to amplify the carné jóven, a sort of discount card that can be redeemed at places all around Andalucía and Spain. Valid until the day you turn 31, shops, beauty parlors and even hotels will give you discounts by simply presenting the card and a photo ID. It’s similar to the ISIC card and can save you oodles on all types of services.

What you’ll need

  • Your NIE and one photocopy (in its absence, your passport and proof of residency in Andalucía)
  • Form Anexo 1 (available here)
  • Proof of being Andalusian or proof of residence in the Andalusian community (usually your NIE will suffice, if not, a housing contract or bill will do)
  • 6€

Where to go

The Institutos Andaluces de Jóvenes, as well as some local banks and any offices of información juvenil in your village, are authorized to process your paperwork and give you the rights to own a card. But, as with many things in Spain, you’ll have to turn in your paperwork and THEN go to a bank with form Modelo 46, wait in another line and pay a fee, called a tasa, of 6€. Cards can be processed in the same day if turned in before 10a.m., or sent to your residence.

Similarly, there’s an online portal.

Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/General Tamayo, 23
04001-Almería
Tlf: 950 00 66 00
Fax: 950 00 66 20
E-mail:informacion.al.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
Alameda Apodaca, 20
11003-Cádiz
Tlf: 956 00 75 00
Fax: 956 00 75 20
E-mail:informacion.ca.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/ Adarve, 2
14002-Córdoba
Tlf: 957 35 22 40
Fax: 957 35 22 41
E-mail:informacion.co.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/ Ancha de Santo Domingo, 1
18009-Granada
Tlf: 958 02 58 50
Fax: 958 02 58 70
E-mail:informacion.gr.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/Rico, 26
21001-Huelva
Tlf: 959 01 19 50
Fax: 959 01 19 51
E-mail:informacion.hu.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/Arquitecto Berges, 34 – A
23007-Jaén
Tlf: 953 00 19 50
Fax: 953 00 19 70
E-mail:informacion.ja.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/ Carretería, 7
29008-Málaga
Tlf: 951 04 09 19
Fax: 951 04 09 20
E-mail:informacion.ma.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es
Dirección Provincial del I.A.J.
C/O´Donnell, 22
41001-Sevilla
Tlf: 955 03 63 50
Fax: 955 03 63 60
E-mail:informacion.se.iaj@juntadeandalucia.es

source

Where it’s valid

Good news – if you’re under 27, you get a 20 – 25% discount on train tickets for the AVE and media distancia trains. Bad news: I turned 27 two months ago and no longer receive these amazing deals. Still, the card is valid all around Andalucía and in many other regions of Spain at youth hostels and hotels (10 – 15% off full price), private doctors and opticians (up to 20%), along with gyms, cafés and courses. A full list can be found clicking clicking here.

The Carné Jóven is also valid in 40 European countries if you’re 26 or under, much like an ISIC card.

If you’ve used a carné, tell me where! My main purpose for getting the card was for Renfe discounts, but I now don’t know where to make my 6€ count!

Seville Snapshots: Plaza de España

My first visit to Plaza de España was on my day of arrival to Seville after studying in Valladolid. I sat on the tiled bench of the province and wrote my observations of the city that I would later reside in and call home. Those reflections are lost in a mountain of possessions in Chicago, but the city left enough of an impression on me to call me back two years later.

I took my grandma to Plaza de España on our first day in Seville, fresh off the plane. The day was sweltering for mid September, and we mostly hung to the colonnades and in the mist of the enormous fountain in the middle of the half-moon  square crowning the María Luisa Park. I used to argue it was the most beautiful building in the city.

But five years later as a semi-jaded expat, it’s hard to see this beautiful neo-mudejár palace as anything but a place where the government has wasted far too many hours of my life. Hidden beneath the brick and marble are government offices, including police headquarters, military outposts and the dreaded Oficina de Extranjeros – the foreigner’s office.

Rolling out of bed to get my Número de Identificación de Extranjeros meant rolling out of bed at 5:30 a.m., just as day was breaking. I waited for a number until 8am, then wasn’t seen until 11a.m. Doing anything within that slack little office means rethinking your willingness to stay in Spain, but there are ways to make the experience more pleasant. The best one? Walking out into the sunshine after being in a windowless office for hours and seeing the south tower reflected in the moat of a place witness to the Iberoamerican Fair, several marches and demonstrations, and even the filming of The Dictator.

Thanks to my pal, Jeremy Bassetti, for the gorgeous photo! Follow him at:

Photo © A Painter of Modern Life (http://apainterofmodernlife.wordpress.com).

Twitter: www.twitter.com/apoml Facebook: www.facebook.com/APainterOfModernLife

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...