My First Visitor...

I was lucky enough to have the wonderful Beth staying with me last weekend. I was overly excited because, as the title suggests, she was the first to visit me whilst I've been away. Now, I had hoped to look ever so cool to any visitors, showing them all the short-cuts, taking them to a cute little place I know for tapas, occasionally fist-pumping locals and such like but when she visited I was really no less of a tourist than she was. 

You can tell my tourist status by how happy I look to be on a beach in March.

It turned out it was a big bonus being tourists together because it meant we got to discover everything together. We didn't have a fixed plan for the weekend but there were a few "cute little places" I'd heard of and was desperate to try. Unsurprisingly, most of these involved food.

First up was Milk. I'd been told by multiple sources that this was the place to go for brunch. And boy were they right. A really gorgeous little place, run by an Irish couple, which serves spectacular looking pancakes, egg variations and even burgers. It has cracking background music as well; eating my "Monte Cristo" whilst listening to Marvin Gaye's Sexual Healing was really quite something. 

Just look at that unbridled enthusiasm for eggs.

Next stop was the beach. Beth had the lord shining down on her and so the sun shone down on us. It was lovely.

Sculpture by Juan Munoz.
I'm pretty sure this is what I'll look like when I come home in July.
Too many damn good pastries.

We then hopped on the metro and hopped off at Gaudi's famous Parc Guell. By this time, the weather was simply stunning and we were so lucky to get to see the park and its views in all their glory.

You can make out the Sagrada Familia just off centre, to the left.

Apparently this performer is always here.
Head to toe in leopard print, playing his guitar.
He was summin' else.

As you do in Barcelona, we managed to bump into essentially every person we knew in the city.

Including these weirdos...

They actually look pretty cool. Could be the cover of their new album. I'd call them...Gizbet.

After enjoying sun and sangria for much longer than we'd planned, we headed back into the centre of town to wander around La Boquería - a food market just off La Rambla. It is full to the brim with gorgeous looking food - exactly like you see in photos everyone seems to take at food markets.

As I have also done...

Frutos secos.

Guindillas.

ACTUAL fish and chips.

Chocolate!

The following day we decided to take advantage of the good weather and headed up to Montjuic, which is a hill at the Southern end of the city. A hill alone sounds rather dull but it actually has a lot going on once you get up there (there were A LOT of steps). We took a leisurely stroll around some pretty gardens...

...stopped off at the 1992 Olympic stadium...

...where we greeted some heroes...

....and some ex-heroes.

...and then I won a gold medal, no biggie.

To satisfy our historical needs we visited the Fort at the very top of the hill. You can walk up to it, but we rode in style, in a cable car, and managed to blast out a fabulous rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" on the way up. Anne Hathaway would've just handed the Oscar over. 

Here we are learning about history.

And then the weekend was over! Time really does fly when you're having fun. Luckily, Beth was staying one more night and so work went really fast on Monday as I was excited to get home and see my wifey waiting for me. Don't worry, she wasn't locked up 'til I returned - during the day Beth went to see the iconic Sagrada Familia and was a little snap happy. She took some really gorgeous photos which I'll pop onto FB - there are just too many to choose from for here.

Instead, here's some precious little bunnys and ducklings.

I couldn't have asked for a better first visitor. We ate, sang and were ever so merry. Thanks Bet, until we meet again in gay Paris!

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My NIE Nightmare...

This may be a dull post. In fact, I know it will be, because it tells the tale of a DULL morning. However, I feel it necessary to rant about the bad along with the good. Also, if anyone is planning on coming to work in Spain - read on and take notes.

In order to do everyday citizen-esque things in Spain like open a bank account, or simply have a paid job you need a NIE. It stands for Número de Identificación de Extranjero - essentially, an identity number - and it serves a little bit like a National Insurance number would in the UK.

And so, I was fully aware I was going to have to get one of these for Barcelona in order to receive my salary. What I didn't know, was how much of a pain in the arse it would be to get it. 

Naturally, the first thing I did was research it on the internet; the warning bells should have gone off when I couldn't find an official website for it, but ho hum, I ploughed on through. Every website seemed to have a slightly different version of instructions but the process seemed to be: take all of the documents you've ever owned in your life to a small office in the middle of who knows where and then queue up to attempt to get this number. There were also quite a few websites which paid great attention to the queueing part - I read that the office opened at 9:00 am but by this time there could be a line down the street of people waiting to also get their NIE. Somewhere else mentioned that they gave out tickets (like a delicatessen) but only to the first 100 people in the queue, everyone else was sent packing.

Armed with my passport (+ photocopy), a copy of my birth certificate, my EHIC, the contract for my internship, my bank details and my Spanish address, I set off to try and get one....at 5:15 am.

It was pitch black, cold and I had only been in the city for three days and did not know my way around - it's safe to say I was not happy. My mood only worsened when I arrived at the office (at 6:00 am) to discover...well, noone. There was no queue of desperate immigrants and exhausted looking year-abroaders as I had expected. I even checked with a taxi driver in case I'd come to the wrong place but I was, unfortunately, right. I settled down onto the freezing pavement and read my book, A Clockwork Orange - which is weird enough to read without being on an empty street at Barcelona at the crack of dawn.

Eventually, at about 8:30 - having met three Pakistani men, a guy from the Dominican Republic, a lovely Belgian girl who bought me coffee and the horrendously racist cleaner from the office - we were let in. I was, of course, first in the queue and so sat down with my Waitrose-delicatessen-like ticket with my organised folder all ready to go. It really didn't help my mood watching all of the staff casually talking together whilst I sat with my teeth chattering as the cold just wouldn't leave my body. But no, they will not begin working until they really have to. 

My number was called, I sat down and explained what I was there for and was given a form to fill in. So far, very easy. The man entered my details and then proceeded to look through the documents I'd brought before he slowly started shaking his head and my heart turned to stone. He told me that I needed something to prove I was Erasmus and doing a placement here, I pointed out my contract but he refused it saying that I needed something in Spanish with the stamp from my company.

And so this concludes my first trip there. I won't explain each individual journey as it involves many different complicated points (contact me if you ever need to get a NIE), but I will just say that this process spanned two days, one trip to a photocopy shop, one trip to a bank, two trips to my office (including the first time I met my boss - not exactly a great first encounter) and FOUR trips back to the NIE office. Four miserable, hideous, painful, bile-rising-in-the-throat-and-tears-in-the-eyes journeys. 

I now have a NIE. And with it, a lot of resentment for Spanish bureaucracy.

And now for something completely different...how weird is this fish?

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