Spanish
life is not always likeable but it is compellingly loveable.
-
Christopher Howse: A
Pilgrim in Spain.
Tour Notes
Life in Spain
- In my many years driving to and from Madrid, I've seen some odd things on the A52 between Vigo and Buenavente. Usually other drivers. But perhaps nothing as unusual as the guy in full running gear jogging up the hard shoulder as I approached my coffee break in Padornelo last Friday afternoon.
Life in Spain
- The Catalan police have now admitted what they'd previously denied, that they'd had warnings of an atrocity on Las Ramblas. Now they say it wasn't credible. Which leaves quite few questions to answer. See here, for example.
- President Rajoy appeared in parliament to answer questions about his party's corruption. In response, he did what he does best and said nothing. Even so, more than 90% of the Spanish population is reported to believe he was lying. By omission, one assumes.
- September is an expensive month for parents of Spanish school kids. Somehow or other they'll be fleeced to the tune of c.€860 per child this year. No idea how. Books, pencils and clothes have been cited.
- Given that most Spanish regard having fun as the essential purpose of life - and who am I to argue? - it's hardly surprising that Spain is seen here as the best place to go on an Erasmus scholarship. As the author says, you'll never be bored in Spain. Or not as a student, at least. Or a pensioner, for that matter.
- Having spent the entire morning yesterday dealing with the consequences of my stolen wallet, I can now make a general observation, the validity of which has been confirmed this morning: With the exception of the banks, commercial operators are more efficient and less bureaucratically inclined than government entities. No huge surprise. Anyone wanting to know the details of Chapter 1 of my odyssey can read it below. Chapter 2 tomorrow . . .
If you go to the cathedral dedicated to St James/Iago the Moorslayer in Santiago de Compostela, you'll see that the statue of him there has been 'doctored' - by a screen of tallish irises - to hide the fact that he's trampling on and slashing at a few of the said Moors. This, they say, is to avoid offending sensitive Muslims. Down in the cathedral of Segovia, there's no such concern. At the top of the altar in the chapel there dedicated to St James, you can see him in all his murderous glory:-
Are there fewer Muslim visitors there, I wonder. Wouldn't have thought so.
Here in Pontevedra, our old quarter has been pedestrianised (humanizado) since the year before I arrived, in 2000. And its city planning continues to get rave notices. See here for example. At least I finally understand what the logic is to the direction of the streets – they're designed to make it impossible to drive through the city, as opposed to around it. Assuming you actually want to get to the other side. And not just lost.
Strangely, I was only thinking today that all those in town who have underground parking spaces should be compelled to use them, so that we occasional visitors could find somewhere to park on the streets. But, as this would reduce the take from the municipal car-parks(los parkings), I guess it's never going to happen.
Finally . . . Here's an account of Chapter 1 of my odyssey to get control of my life back after the theft of my cash and cards last Friday evening. Chapter 2 tomorrow:-
O6.45: Go on the
internet to try to get a duplicate driving licence or at least make
an appointment with El Tráfico to do this. Find I can't as
I don't have electronic ID. Even if I could, I can't work out under
which heading I have to apply, even after reading the advice in
English as well as Spanish. Resolve to go the offices and see if
there is an information desk. I see that the fee is €20, which is
why my neighbour, the lovely but parallel-universe Ester, advised me
last night to wait 2 weeks, in case the police find my chucked-away
licence.
07.00: Go to the web
page of SERGAS to see if I can apply for a renewed health card but
have the same problem – no electronic ID. See I have to go to my
local health clinic.
07.15: Scan into my
computer the denuncia made to the police in Alcala
de Henares on Saturday morning.
07.20: Make 5 copies of
my passport; my (expired) NIE; my (foto-less and so useless) A4
Residencia document;
my (previous) driving licence; and the denuncia
07.33: As advised by my
'Family Banker'(FB), I send a copy of the denuncia by
email to my bank and ask them to confirm this is enough and that I
don't now need to send a copy of the denuncia by registered letter to
their Barcelona office.
07.50: I go on line to
my bank to see if they have charged me for the new cards received
yesterday. Despite assurances that they wouldn't, they have.
07.55: I take the
opportunity to reconcile my statement with all the chits of the last
week or so.
08.00: I get a reply
from my bank confirming receipt of the denuncia but
ignoring my request for confirmation this is enough. I conclude I am
again dealing with a machine.
08.11: I send an email
to my FB, copying this reply and asking her to confirm that the email
was enough and that the charges will be reversed.
08.47: I send my FB the
number of my new debit card and ask her to advise whether this is
'national' or 'international', as this issue had complicated things
greatly on Saturday, when I was trying to cancel the cards with the
bank and with VISA.
09.00: I write my blog.
11.00: I arrive at my
local health centre. The woman tells me I have to pay €10. I go to
hand this over this but she tells me I have to fill in a form and take it along
with the cash to a bank. She gives me another form which provides the
details of the Galician health system and their codes that I have to
put on the form. And then steals my pen. I retrieve my pen, leave and
move my car closer to the bridge.
11.30: En route to
town, I go into La Caixa bank to pay the €10, submit the form,
cash a cheque and get details of their current account and any offers
going. The pleasant woman tells me they don't cash cheques drawn on
my bank. She does give me a brochure and also tells me – which is
news to me – that my bank has a branch in Pontevedra, opposite the
hospital. I query this and she checks. She then tells me that it's
just an office and gives me a revised address and a phone number.
11.40: I join the queue
for the one teller at the desk to submit the form and my €10. After
15 minutes of no progress, I decide to try another bank in
Pontevedra.
11.45: En route to
town, I call the number of the office of my bank I've been given. The
woman who answers says she has no idea if I can cash a cheque there
but suggests I call in to the office and chat to her.
11.46: I send a message
to my FB asking which bank(s) will cash a cheque.
11.48: I arrive at the
Pontevedra office of my bank to find the young woman there clearly
has no idea of the procedure.
11.55: I leave the
office and go to talk to my ex-advisers in Banco Popular. Neither of
them is there, possibly sacked after the Santander take over. I
resolve to try the BBVA bank.
11.57: En route, I call
into a copistería, where they do photocopying and
stuff. I regard this as the only truly efficient business in the
whole of Spain. This, of course, is due to the vast volume of their
business in this paper-obsessed society. I get my (expired) NIE and
my old driving licence colour-copied and a new NIE cut to size and
laminated. I also get my (useless) A4 Residencia document
reduced to passport size and laminated. Total cost: €2.30! I now
have ID again. Even if it is phony.
12.00: I arrive at the
BBVA and am sent back from the counter to a machine which will give
me a ticket for my turn. I am eventually given a non-client ticket
which makes it clear I am low priority. There are 4 desks but only 3
clerks. And only 2 of these are working.
12.30: Only 4 people
have been attended to in 30 minutes. I get the impression that, as
with the Post Office, introduction of a ticket machine has given the
clerks licence to go even slower. This might be because customers no
longer stand a metre or so away from the desk demonstrating
impatience but now sit quietly 30 metres away and get called via a
screen. So, I get up and go to Santander bank, to try my luck there.
12.32: I take a ticket
from Santander's machine and then see there are 20-30 people waiting
like sheep in a room to the side. Having taken billions of euros of
taxpayer cash, Spanish banks are now clearly paring costs to the
bone. The result - rationing. As with the UK national health service,
this means longer waiting times before you get attended to. I throw
my ticket in the bin and leave, heading to the old quarter to try to
buy replacement wallets.
12.45: I arrive at a
leather shop in which I've never previously seen a client. People are
queueing out through the door. I wonder if this is connected with
costumes for the imminent Medieval Fair (Feira Franca) and
head for another shop.
12.50: I find this
place empty and buy separate wallets for my notes and for my cards.
This consumes virtually all the cash I have.
13.00: I arrive at my
regular bar and order a coffee and then a wine, having first checked
I have enough money to cover them.
I review the morning
and decide that my trips to the copistería and the
(second) leather shop were a success. My dealings with the health
insurance system and the banks, much less so. Which is exactly what I
would have predicted, if you'd asked me in advance.
My immediate cash
problems have been solved by borrowing money from my house guest.
Tomorrow morning I will try to get cash using my new debit card and
the new PIN number I managed to get, with help from my FB, via the
internet during my lunch.
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