29 September, 2006

bad news

The nice flat is gone to the other people.
I feel really low.

21 September, 2006

looking for jobs

Now that I found the flat that I want, I feel good enough so I can focus now into the next item on the list: find a job.
The public sector is closed to me because I don´t speak Catalan (to be honest I don´t even understand it), so it has to be in the private sector.
The local newspaper only have very low key jobs, such as cleaners and waiters. I´ve been a waiter before but I´m too old for that now and I´m looking for something with a better pay.
The obvious job is going into teaching, but I´ll do that only if there´s nothing else, I´m not really good at that.

First I polished and updated my Cv and I have to print it. Big problem, I don´t have a printer at home and there´s none at the local cyber cafe when everybody seem to be using only emails.

Also we still don´t have telephone at home because bloody Telefonica (the one and only company that can connect you and give you a phone) told us that it´s take up to a month to get us a phone. Can yopu believe it!! I´m VERY mad!
I never thought that I say this but I so wish there was a free market here instead of this monopolies owned by the very ineficient state.

20 September, 2006

I found it!!

One of my jobs here is to find a suitable place to buy. The boys want it big, with a garage, close to the tube and with a big play room, I want it with a big kitchen, nice view, a lift, 3 bedrooms and nice location.
We´re registred with a number of state agents and every single day I migh have to see at least one, ussually lacking something or other.
Being ever the proactive one, I keep my eyes open when out and about to see if there´s any flat on sale privatelly and I finally found my ideal one. Three bedrooms, a bigish kitchen, 2 toilets (one with a jacuzzi stile bath!), it´s on the second floor, 2 lifts, nice balcony overlooking the inside of the block (quieter), pretty new, I even loke the decoration! It has everything except for a parking place.

The only problem is that the owners promised to wait until Friday for a couple who are looking for a mortgage. So. we´ll have to wait a bit longer.
Wish me luck!

18 September, 2006

our belongins

Well. We've got all our earthy belongings with us now. Boxes and boxes of stuff that made me wander what I was thinking when I sent all this rubbish instead of giving it away to charity to start afresh.
After all I do think that all that was really important and irreplaceable was a couple of boxes of all pictures and letters from family and friends and a box of important documents such as our degrees and all the naturalization papers. All the rest is just clutter.
Anyway, it's our clutter and we're quite pleased to have it all here.

I still have to check that everything arrived in good condition but so far, it looks ok. One funny thing, though, is that the hedge cutter arrived unexpectedly because we sold that to our neighbour and friend back in Bristol. The removal men must have seen that and packed it without us realising. Well... I'll take it to Bristol next time we're going, that if I'm allowed to travel with that scary looking machine, you never know this days.

I'm quite chuffed that all our boxes fit really nicely in our flat. It seemed big until now and we're saving a few euros on renting a box in a storage house. (actually a couple of hundred euros saved, which is quite a bit of money for us now).

Most thing will stay boxed until we move to a more permanent address, but I started to need some other things, such as winter clothes and a proper hoover (long life to that Dyson guy who invented the hoover without bags).

"The husband" is starting to adapt our electric appliances to Spain. The electricity is the same but the actual plug is different, so he's cutting off the plugs and installing the Spanish versions. It seems a bit final to see him cutting the plugs, discard them and connect the Spanish ones, as if this shows how commited we are to live here for good. Are we?

16 September, 2006

omygod! The Brits are coming

All our things from Bristol are arriving today.

We rented this big flat so we can storage everything until we can buy our own flat, but I'm started to remember all the hassle of packing and the sheer amount of it maybe grew in my mind but I started to doubt if it will all fit in.

The removals guys are all Brits and as Brits abroad do, they don't speak a word of the local language. They called me yesterday asking for directions and the guy on the phone was petrified when I say "hola" and his relief was palpable when he found out that I do speak English. Bless him.

We're expecting them anytime soon and luckily we have T. to help us. This is going to be really hard work.

How to integrate. First step

Well... I don't really know how to integrate into a new society so, I'll be trying my best.

I do feel lonely now that the boys are at work and school most hours of the day. So I sign myself into a crochet workshop. If I don't get to know people and to understand the language better, at least I'm going to finish with a nice tablecloth and a new skill.

15 September, 2006

Visitors!

My friend T.'s coming to stay a few days with us!!
We've known each other since we're 8 years old and did the whole school together. After we graduated from high school we've seen each other from time to time and always keep in touch with each other.
She lives in Madrid with her husband and it's between jobs, so she decided it to visit us before getting a new one.

She's arriving today and I'm very exited, I do feel quite lonely here and I'm looking forward to some girlie talk and catching up.

14 September, 2006

(almost) all reunited again

Well. What can I say?
What was the ranking place of moving houses in the list of stress inducing experiences?
Our earthy possetions are here with us finally and they look more or less ok and more or less rubish. Although for the life of me I can not figure it out why did I pack a quite old Yorkshire pudding tin in the first place.

Whatever.
I'm totally knackered.

My wise friend left us today.
She's been a real doll and help us a lot pushing boxes around the flat.
It was great to have her here these few days.
She talked me over my wish to go back to England saying that things do get better after a while but that I have to make it happens. She even say that I don't need prozac but a few night out with friend. There's plenty of night here, sadly not friends.

I miss my friend and I miss my extended family. I'm very tired and I want to cry. Again.
And a sure sign of incoming depression: I don't even want to bother with the spellchecker. I feel that nobody is reading this anyway.

On health care

With P. at the school I can concentrate in the million things that I have to do.
We're already registered with the local council as residents in Sabadell and our numero de extrangero card (the local ID for foreigners) is already started and we have to wait for the police or whoever to actually do it.
Every little bureaucratic thing takes at least two trips. The first one to make sure of the documents you need (the council's web pages are hopelessly out of date. always) and the second one to actually do whatever you need to do. Sometimes it even takes three visits because there's something missing from the list in visit two or you've been misinformed. A pain in the neck.

First on my list was to register us all with a local GP.
Here, as Europeans, we only have to register with a local GP in order to get health care as any local law abiding, tax payer Spaniard. In principle, in any European country everybody has the right to receive emergency health care and everybody actually living in the country can (and should) register with the local GP. Basic health care is a sort of human right, I think.
However, if you're an EC citizen traveling abroad you have to have an EC blue card proving that you're entitled to that care and even then, you have to pay for certain things that are not consider to be basic enough. If you're not an EC citizen you'd have the very basic and you'd better have a good private health insurance if you're sick or injured.

Every newspaper and loads of people here (and in the UK as well), keep complaining about how the local health services are over strained and failing due to the pressure of having to deal with illegal migrants, false asylum seekers and such "second class" people. I really doubt that that can be actually true. It took me a week to collect all the documents proving that we're entitled to health care and to register with the local GP and for the life of me I cannot figure out how an illegal immigrant can fool the system.
As it stand, there's a sub-class of people who have naught and here you can see them more clearly than in the UK. They're cleverly called "sin papeles" (without documents) and everyday you can see them in national TV arriving to the Canarie Islands in "cayucos" or "pateras" , run down boats overcrowded with people with nothing but hope and lucky to have survived the trip. There was some striking images of tourist in the island helping the poorest of the survivors. I can't help to think: there but for the grace of God, go I.

Personally, I think that is hypocritical of the European nations to talk about open markets and free trade while heavily subsidising its own products and not allowing the free movement of workers and people. Europe is fortifying its borders to stop the free movement of people and goods but it's a sort of lost cause, because for how long can they stop the desperately poor people of the world from entering the union?

13 September, 2006

Finally, a school in Spain

When "the husband" first arrived in Spain (back in March) it was the very last day available to apply for places in primary education, and he dutifully filled the form and we forgot all about it when we're told that P. did not get our first school of choice (the one in campus).Out of desperation, I guess, last week we checked to see if there was a second choice of school that the secretary at "the husband"'s lab filled in. There was, thank goodness.

It's a school in the nearby village called Cerdanyola (the village not the school). Sort of out of the way from here and at least 30 minutes from us by bus, but close to the University campus. However far it is, it has a good reputation and P. has a place in it so... at least he has a place in a school. Although is miles from home and he's not going to be able to play with his classmates outside school hours as I hoped.

So we called them at the eleventh hour and explain the situation; they were really kind and P. is still expected to attend school there so... there we went.

As soon as we arrived in the school, very early in the morning and with everybody else, a lady approached us and she asked "are you P's family? welcome to the school!". She was the headmistress on the lookout for new parents and even got my son's name right! They weren't sure if we were able to speak any Spanish and was a bit of a relief that we did. She then introduced us to the English teacher who was there to be with my son the whole day so he'd be able to communicate and understand what was going on during the first day.
How sweet of them!
Of course, P's fully bilingual and to the teacher's apparent relief he could joined the class and understand all what was being told in Spanish (here they called it Castillian), so she needn't stay with him.

Spain has a big incoming migration "problem" and most schools are used to have at least a couple of foreign kids in each class and they have vast experience in dealing with children who don't speak Catalan. They even have some state support in the form of special tuition in Catalan as a foreign language, one or two hours a week.
However, statistically most new immigrant children are from Latin American countries and they have the advantage of being able to speak Castillian, thus the teachers are able to communicate with the children in one language while they learn Catalan.
There's a minority of children from the Arab world, Africa and Pakistan who don't speak any Castillian and they take longer to adapt.
So, while I was aware that the support is there, I never heard of a child having a teacher who can speak his/her language accompaning them in the first day. I can only explain this by the fact that English is a high class, good reputation language that is actually taught in most schools and even the teacher was eager to practice her English with a native speaker.
In fact. P told me later that all the kids were really friendly and that after the teacher introduced him to the class as the new child from England, they all jumped and asked him to say something in English and were very impress when he did so. (although it was cheeky of him that he said: "why do you want me to speak in English if you don't understand a word that I say?"). Latter during the break they asked him loads of question about his country and some asked him if Bristol was anywhere near California and Hollywood.

I wander if this happens with every foreign child and somehow I don't think so. There's a peaking order in everything in this world and P's very lucky that he was born in the country with the dominant language of the times, plus that he speaks the 3th most spoken language in the world: Spanish. Now I see as my duty to keep his English going, so we reversed the rule that we had in England, thus: at home we speak English here (and he's allowed two DVD per week from the local video shop, because we can set the language and, let's face it, most movies are from Hollywood).

11 September, 2006

Another Fiesta! and counting.

Yes. Another one. This time is not just for our town but for the whole of Catalunya and there's Catalan flags all over the place.
(The Catalan flag is different from the Spanish one and in the local council you can find up to 4 flags in any Fiesta day: the blue one with golden stars for the European union, the one for Spain, the regional one in our case Catalunya and the old one for the town or city).
The fiesta today is to remember when Catalunya lost the decisive battle against Spain and was annexed to the biggest kingdom. This being a Mediterranean country, the day, even though is a sad one in theory, is marked with a fiesta. Some streets are closed, everybody has a day off work (except for the bars and cafes, of course) and as soon as is dark enough there's music in some squares and fireworks at 11pm.

Nice, of course. But schools are starting today all over Spain and here they'll open tomorrow and we still don't know if we'd be able to find one for my son. I'm quite worried and hardly appreciate the festive occasion. Of course, nobody from the Ministry of Education is working today so I expect no calls, but school start tomorow nonetheless and we have no place for P.

10 September, 2006

Found it!

Being Saturday, the boys went to have some quality time together, in this case to play paddle and to check the local gym while I decided to walk around town to get to know the place.
As usual, my good fortune took me to find something nice: the local library. Huge and new building in a colonial style, a bit empty on the inside but I was thrilled nonetheless. A library is always a sort of safe haven for me, ever since childhood where I did prefer the library to any party. Even in the poorest of them you're bound to find at least some unread books inviting as little doors to other worlds and lives. And there's always the hope that inside the good looking ones a throve of information, loads of books and who know what else.
This particular library looked good. The foreign section a bit of a disappointment, of course, but not worse that what we had in South Gloucestershire. Here most of the books in English were fiction, paperback thrillers and little else, not even chick-lit!! The surprise was to discover that most of the books were in Catalan and not all of them translation from Spanish or whatever else, it seems that the Catalans are great readers and they have some great writers too. An example of that is the world wide best seller "The shadow of the wind" that was written and published first in Catalan. Well... another reason to learn the local language!

All was fine until I tried to actually became a member to the library. I'm not going to bother you with the details of Spanish bureocracy in its Catalan version. Let me just say that it was more difficult to join the library than it was to register as a resident. Why, oh, why??? Two trips back hoome to get passports and assorted pieces of documents and we were in. Finally.

The first book I borrowed was an audio course: "Learn Catalan". I hope it works!

08 September, 2006

Paperwork

After the long weekend we have a lot to do with our paperwork. The priority is to find a school for my son and in order to do that we need to register ourselves as living here.
Very early on Tuesday we gather all our papers, both in English and Spanish, all passports, birth certificates, marriage certificate, lease contract, "the husband´s" work contract, school´s reports, etc etc. A big file.

Then we went to the first office at the local council building to register ourselves or empadronarse. After explaining what we wanted at the door, we were given a number and sent inside. When our turn came we were allocated a desk with a scared looking youngish girl. As it happens to us, it was her first day at work and she didn´t have a clue and what should have taken at most 10 minutes, took us a whole hour!!! Loads of checking with her supervisor, colleagues and even us, but she managed to give us our certificates.
Then we went to visit schools around town and we´ve been repeatedly told that they´re all fully booked and that we should go first to the ministry of education so they can get us a place.
Of course, when we finally arrived at the ministry´s office, the told us that we have to register the child first in the school and if the chosen one is fully booked then the ministry´s people will find us a place. So, back to the school where I have to put my feet down and get all the way to the headmaster so they can register my son then and there.
Back to the ministry and now we have to wait for them to call us and offer us a place. According to the law, they have to find us a place in a school close to home or either parent´s work but that can be whenever in the province so I better start checking private schools.

On Wednesday, the son and me went to the central police office in the Barceloneta, down town Barcelona, in order to start the procedure to get our NIE or foreign national number (numero nacional de extrangero) that all foreigners should have in order to be able to work and live here more than 6 months of the year.
We just pop in without a previous date and there was a bit of a queue and we had to handle loads of original and photocopied documents plus pictures and of course show them our passports.
It was really hot inside the police and god knows I´m not the most patient person in the world but next to us were the huge queue for the non-eu and these poor people had folders even bigger than us and their queue was massive. They were mothers with young babies, loads of children, mostly young men and families and I´ve been told that their queues are so big that they have to go really early in the morning just to get a number for when the actual queue starts.
It´s always sobering to compare oneself to people in direst circunstances.

Today we checked private schools in town and they´re also fully booked, the ministry people didn´t call me yet and I start to panic and thinking of taking my son to a British school miles from here, in English and bloody expensive but reliable. I cannot even think of homeschooling, we´ll be mad in a week.
And the school starts next Tuesday!!!!

And guess what? Next Monday will be a non-working day again, yes, another fiesta.




06 September, 2006

and still some more fiesta!

Yes. Here they take their fiestas very seriously and today the fun is still going on.
However, there´s so much fiesta one can take and we decided to take it easy and stay at home for most part of the day.

The flat is surprisingly quiet. Even tough is not looking at the street I expected to be able to hear the neighbours, smell their food and so on, but not a peep or a sniff. I wasn´t even sure if there was people actually living here. I founded a bit spooky until I finally heard some human noise in the form of a baby wailing from somewhere during the nigh (not enough to prevent us for sleeping) and somebody playing the piano at around 10 o´clock today.

I never lived in a flat before and I thought it´ll be like living in everybody´s pocket. Not here. maybe is that the buildings are well built and with proper designs but I also think that most people here are totally used of living on top of each other and are very civil about it. Very urbane (is this a proper word?) and polite people who really trying hard not to bother their neighbours.
This is a bit of a surprise because the Catalans are without a doubt the most loud people while they´re on the street on in cafes, you can follow people´s chat without any effort from across the room sometime.

There also loads of doggies all over the place, specially small ones and for some reason Yorkies are particular favourites, but not much dog poo on the pavement.

The only social problem so far is the smoking. Despite being a law forbiden smoking in public places, so far people smoke everywhere.

However and so far this is a very civilised place to live.

05 September, 2006

and Fiesta again

More fiesta today. In fact the diables woke the town up at 8:30 according to the tradition. Not fun if you, like us, went to bed at 2pm the night before.

A friend of a friend form England come to see us and we spend sometime together showing them Sabadell, the fiesta and the tapas.

The kids (theirs and mine) found a show of games and toys made from recycled material. The kids had to get a card and try and solve all the games. My dear English son had a cultural shock discovering that children in Cataluyna don´t queu. After a bit of frustration I suggested him to keep an eye and jump in politely but firmly when he thought it was his turn, and he did it and problem solved. (well... he´s really big for his age). The games were really imaginative and fun and my son was truly hooked for 3 straight hours.

The downside to the fiesta is that you cannot get to buy anything during this few days. Except for bars, cafes, restaurants and suchlikes.
So far so goo because I haven´t had to cook for a while and it´s too hot to do it anyway.

Talking about the art of queuing lets just say that is only an art in Olde England. It´s not that people don´t queu here, they do, but in a subtle way. After being in some queus during the time I´ve been here (and I know that my nightmares with the bureaucracy have not even started yet) I discovered that the method is like this: you enter the room (bank, health centre, whatever) do a quick check on the people scatered all over the place and ask aloud who´s the last one in the queu, somebody will answer or put his/her hand up and you just tag your self to that person, once s/he´s been serve then you go. It took me sometime to gather this info because the people ussually ask in Catalan but now I´ve got it and it works fine.

04 September, 2006

and Fiesta again

More fiesta today. In fact the diables woke the town up at 8:30 according to the tradition. Not fun if you, like us, went to bed at 2pm the night before.

A friend of a friend form England come to see us and we spend sometime together showing them Sabadell, the fiesta and the tapas.

The kids (theirs and mine) found a show of games and toys made from recycled material. The kids had to get a card and try and solve all the games. My dear English son had a cultural shock discovering that children in Cataluyna don´t queu. After a bit of frustration I suggested him to keep an eye and jump in politely but firmly when he thought it was his turn, and he did it and problem solved. (well... he´s really big for his age). The games were really imaginative and fun and my son was truly hooked for 3 straight hours.

The downside to the fiesta is that you cannot get to buy anything during this few days. Except for bars, cafes, restaurants and suchlikes.
So far so goo because I haven´t had to cook for a while and it´s too hot to do it anyway.

Talking about the art of queuing lets just say that is only an art in Olde England. It´s not that people don´t queu here, they do, but in a subtle way. After being in some queus during the time I´ve been here (and I know that my nightmares with the bureaucracy have not even started yet) I discovered that the method is like this: you enter the room (bank, health centre, whatever) do a quick check on the people scatered all over the place and ask aloud who´s the last one in the queu, somebody will answer or put his/her hand up and you just tag your self to that person, once s/he´s been serve then you go. It took me sometime to gather this info because the people ussually ask in Catalan but now I´ve got it and it works fine.

03 September, 2006

Fiesta!! Again!

I´m not going to tell you all about the moving. Let me just say that it was as traumatic and stressful as they always are and it took us the whole day yesterday to start to recover.

Yesterday was also my birthday (43 if you must know). The whole of Sabadell is having a party this weekend and it´s very odd to be in a festive mood with the whole village. Nice!

August is the month of the year when most villages and even some neighbourhoods in bigger tows are having their annual fiesta or Fiesta Mayor (Festa Major in Catalan). See the poster at the side.

The whole town is in a party mood and there´s something to see in loads of different places, squares, parks, even some closed streets on the most central areas. From children parties to street entertainer to music concerts or shows. It´s not possible to see it all so you have to plan in advance what are you going to see and then plan your itinerary around town with a map. Of course, this being Spain after all, there´s always cafes and tapas´places to eat and get some water or beer to keep you going.

We saw an Argentinean street performer who was unusually funny and clever. The Spaniard are good sports and people (not just kids) participate gladly in the show, making it the more enjoyable.

Then we saw the parades of Moros y Cristianos Moors and Christians (the concept of politically correct doesn´t cut the mustard in Spain), an ancient tradition portraying the defeated Moors and the Christians winners parading around town regally dressed and with great scimitars and swords and with musicians following them playing a catchy tune. The Christians around this part of the world have St. Georges´cross as their flag, which make my son wonder if the Christian were actually Englishmen or at least English fans. No chance. St. George or San Jordi is also the saint patron of Catalunya.

After that we went for some tapas and I was given my presents. My sweets guys really made an effort this years even though we were all so busy. I love them. I also opened the present that me dad left me and it was his digital camera!! I´ve been wanting one for ages and now I can post my own pictures in this blog. Great!

Then we strolled back to the central square where the Ball of the devils was talking place. For all that we could gather, the devils were trying to take the town as they do every year and the people reject them and send them back to Hell. Some guys were dressed as devils and some children were dressed as villagers. The devils had big and scary looking devils´forks that they used to light a big and noisy display of fireworks literally under peoples´noses!! Scary and the son was at the same time thrilled and indignant at their disregard for security.
They shouted poems back and forth and they were probably really funny because the crowd laughed and clapped the best of them. I couldn´t understand a word. I´ve been told that the speeches are written anew every year anew and they always include mention of current events and made fun of local politicians. I´m determined that next year I´ll be able to understand them.
It all ended with all the devils lying dead on the floor and a big and colourful firework display. Really impressive.

Finally and at near 11pm we went to see the World of Dance festival and there was an Argentinean folk Group. Then the night turned into a bizarre event. Imagine going to live abroad and then to another country and finding a Morris dancers performance on the street of a small town. Bizarre. I do know that we Argentineans are a big part of the population here and it shouldn´t surprise me. However, after the devils´ show and a BIG cold beer I found the Argentinean´s fold group quite bizarre nonetheless.
Don´t get me wrong, they were VERY good, a proffesional ensemble with a very good production. Two hours of music and dance, great costumes and although the dances were a bit over-choreograph they were tastely done and it was a plesure to watch.
It was also the first time that my son could see some of the traditional Argentinean dances such as malambo, and it pains me to say that he wasn´t impressed at all!!

Remeber that all this is not aimed at the tourist. I´ve hardly hear any foreign language around, this is made for and by the people and it´s a tradition dating for donkeys years.

Well. Forgive me now, but it´s still fiesta out there and we´re going to join them while we can.

02 September, 2006

Moving in, moving out, disco lady!

The tittle refers to an oldie that i used to dance to. Remeber "disco lady" by Johnny Taylor?

Shake it up, shake it down
Move it in, move it round, disco lady
Move it in, move it out,
move it in round about, disco lady
Shake it up, shake it down
Move it in, move it around, disco lady
Well, hey sexy lady

Well... I like the moving moving Sacha baron Cohen´s (Ali G.) style but GOD, I hate to actually move houses!
Yesterday we did it and it was nighmarish. Nothing wrong, actually it was pretty painless as far as moving goes, but it´ll take some time to recover.
So forgive me the short entry but right now I´m going to take a siesta and later on we´re all going to the poshest restaurant we can find to celebrate both the starting to our new life and my birthday.