As a guest in a foreign land, deal with the house rules
It’s all in how you approach it
Among truisms, such as death and taxes, there will always be bureaucracy to deal with. Fortunately, my dealings with the Spanish officialdom have always been less trying than the death-and-taxes thing. To begin with, one needs to have Zen-like patience for these seemingly simple cases to be resolved.
From my time in Italy many years ago, I grew accustomed to the vagaries of the system. After 9/11, all foreigners were required to be fingerprinted for the Permesso di Soggiorno or residence permit in Italy. A rather put-out carabinieri officer was in charge of this. It was obvious from his body language that he didn’t see any reason for this extra governmental hurdle being applied to U.S. citizens. After completing this messy task, we waved goodbye with ink-stained fingers.
Recently, in anticipation of renewing our Non-Lucrative Visas (NLV) in Spain, I needed to update our padrón (padro in Valenciano) It’s a document that roughly corresponds to the census in the U.S. This, however, is updated every time you move or, in our instance, every two years. There are exceptions to everything, so don’t hold me to this as a hard-and-fast rule.
Learning to handle the paperwork
One of my biggest concerns with moving abroad was handling paperwork. The hassle of dealing with a functionary in a language I’m not familiar with can be daunting. Initially, I encountered this while getting the original visa. And there’s a sense of it being so much simpler to do things in your home country. So what’s been my experience?
…in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.
Benjamin Franklin, in a letter to Jean-Baptiste Le Roy, 1789
As an aside: Most of the time I didn’t notice the rules and regulations back in Texas. One came to know what was expected and how to handle it. Remember those trips to the Department of Motor Vehicles in your home state? Well, I recently wanted to renew my Texas driver’s license from abroad. After several emails, documents, and more documents, notarization and an eye exam, I finally got the license renewed. Additionally, I still have to file my U.S. taxes as well as my Spanish taxes while here, so there’s that.
Back to the padrón renewal. I made an appointment online, which I had done before and showed up at the ayuntamiento or local city hall at the appointed time. “Wrong door, go around to the back,” I was told.
There, I saw a line outside, but it moved quickly. Upon presenting myself to the person in charge of creating the waitlist, I told her my task, was given a number, and sat down in the sala de espera.
Just under 30 minutes later, my number flashed on the screen. I told the person at the assigned desk what I wanted. However, since my son returned to the U.S., I needed to drop him from the padrón. That’s a problem. I needed to come back with new documents, fill out another form, and go to another room. This time it was suggested that I not make an appointment, just show up and wait.
In anticipation of this, I take a blank form from the office. At home, I can scan it to type my information on it, which I can then print out. This serves two purposes: (1) I get a clean Spanish translation of what I need and (2) it avoids my really bad handwriting.
Another day, another try (repeat as necessary)
OK, fine. A couple of days later, I returned, with my neat, translated document. After explaining what I needed, I was again guided by the woman assigning numbers where to wait. When my number was called, I expectedly went to the appointed spot with my information in hand.
Nope, I was told by the unsmiling women seated there. I needed a receipt from the landlord for the most-recent month of paid rent. Then I was pointed to the exit and found myself on the street.
After searching online, I found a suitable Spanish receipt form. I sent this to the landlord for her signature, which she promptly returned. A few days later I found myself in front of a friendly-looking man who accepted my newly acquired documents. After some typing and some scanning I was told that I’d get a confirmation of my updated status in the mail in two or three weeks.
Three weeks later, I received the letter and it says I have been removed from the registry – not my son. BLEEP! Back I go, a freshly printed form explaining the issue anew. In due course, I’m seated in front of the same, unsmiling woman from my original visit. She looks over everything, mentions something about “equivocado” – an error or mistake – scans everything in, including the previous request. This time I know the way to the exit, so she doesn’t need to point to it.
It’s waiting game
So far I haven’t received a letter from the city confirming the change. Thus I hope that no news is good news. At any rate, we’ve been approved for the NLV renewal. Now it’s on to the hard-to-obtain appointment. Hopefully, we will have all the correct documents with us. The process begins anew.
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