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.
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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