What's in your wallet?

With all due respect to Capital One, not too many American credit cards anymore.

I've been comfortably settled in for a while now, but yesterday (Friday) I finally completed the long process of getting a tarjeta de identidad de extranjero (or TIE), and am now the official possessor of a Spanish identity card, complete with color photo on the front and (smudgy) fingerprint on the back.  This makes me a completely legal and registered and fichada resident of Spain, at least until the end of June, and also means that my número de identidad de extranjera has now been recorded in so many places that it will follow me for the rest of my life if I ever decide to live here for the long term.  So that's a relief.

It also means that my wallet is filled with little plastic id cards that identify me as a madrileña.  I now have my TIE (which I have placed in the clear plastic folder where I keep my driver's license, in front of said driver's license), and also my Banco Sabadell cards (registered to my local branch), my red multi-tarjeta for the metro and bus (and bike share), by white and blue polideportivo membership card, and my blue and white Biblioteca Nacional "investigadora" card.  In honor of all these forms of photo id (and deference to my wallet not straining too much), I have ceremonially removed my NYC library card and my NYC ID, which I was carrying for sentimental reasons.  While I do still have my driver's license and insurance and student id cards (things which in an emergency it would be good to have), my wallet is starting to look more local.  This just goes to show (something that a lot of flag-wavers here have been trying to hide) that when people talk about patria and homeland, and also about "integration" and "assimilation" of immigrants, really what they're talking about is what's in your wallet (of which cash, which comes out of ATM machines generally, is usually the least important thing).  Respect to Capital One's advertising firm, for coming up with a slogan which captures the essence of modern identity.

Funny/Not Funny

 

The news by newspaper and the news by mail only occasionally converge...

I got a piece of mail from Banco Sabadell today.  For a moment I wondered whether it might be something retro like a paper account statement in spite of their spiffy smartphone app, and then I worried that it might be some kind of bill.  But when I got upstairs and opened it I discovered a form letter (in English, since my account was set up in that language - they do have good software) addressed to "Dear Sir/Madam" and informing me "personally" that the bank's Board of Directors has decided as of October 5 to relocate their registered offices to Alicante in order to "fulfill [the bank's] commitment to take the necessary measures to ensure at all times the proper legal security and protection of the interests of its customers."  No particular reason.  They just want me to know that I definitely should not panic and withdraw money, and that they've always thought Alicante was lovely at this time of year (which I'm sure it is).

Cosas del palacio, siempre despacio

I am slowly being absorbed by the department of "Filología Inglesa II" at the Complutense.

Who knew the mysterious "El Barto" made it all the way to university?

Today was one of those days when on the one hand I accomplished little, and on the other, various absolutely necessary things happened.  Basically, I went to the Complutense, and met with the head of the "Filología Inglesa II" department, and (even more importantly) with the department secretary who wrote a letter saying that I was a "profesora visitante" and kindly walked down with me to the personnel department where I filled out a "ficha" (having fortunately brought along my passport for photocopying) and the ladies there said they would "tramitar" everything after being reassured that this wasn't an actual appointment letter, which would involve paying me anything.  ("Será para el futuro," one of them assured me kindly.)  This is important (even though I'm not getting paid) because it will enable me to have a university ID, which will enable me to have a university email, but more importantly will enable me to connect to the university WiFi, and also to use said email and WiFi ID to connect to EduRoam networks anywhere in Spain, including presumably the Biblioteca Nacional.  (I tried connecting with my Columbia ID to the EduRoam network at the Complutense.  No dice.  The department secretary explained that this was because you have to download and install a specific program before you can connect to EduRoam.  Which you can't do unless you're connected as a regular user.)  In theory, I should have my email address by now, but I've received no mails, so I'm assuming that it will come tomorrow.  Or Monday.  Cosas de palacio, siempre despacio.

Things unseen

When you learn that a city is a little embarrassed by you.

This is the Avenida de los Poblados.  It has no street sign on it.  To the left is the Comisaría.  It has no sign on it saying that it is the Comisaría, and no address number. And no flags visible from the street. They would prefer you to consider it invisible.

I know that I am guilty of sometimes having an overactive imagination.  But I don't think I'm imagining that Madrid is trying to hide the place where foreigners go to receive tarjetas de identidad de extranjero (TIEs) and for that matter where ordinary madrileños go to get passports and similar.  It is technically the Comisaría of the Policía Nacional, but there are no signs saying so, even when you get to the end of the long wall in the picture, and turn left onto the side street, and go past the wall to a more cheerfully whimsical architecture of a guard house with blue glass bricks surmounted by a little cone shaped tower with swirls of red and blue and yellow that look like a child's playground castle, and that lead into a courtyard.  Inside the children's castle architecture there is a metal detector and a pair of bored policía nacionales directing people through it, and paper signs saying which line is for personnel and which for "visitors."  But it doesn't actually say anywhere why anyone might be visiting the place.  They might have just felt there weren't enough metal detectors in their life, and dropped in to buy a soda and make a photocopy at one of the vending machines (and coin operated copiers) in the courtyard.  But I am getting ahead of myself in the story.

I'm legal! (Nearly)

I have received my justificante de empadronamiento, that says that I've duly recorded my legal address with the Madrid ayuntamiento

 

The empadronamiento process has always struck me as a bit bizarre and redundant as a legal requirement, and in fact I know of other Fulbrighters who have been less conscientious about getting the earliest possible appointment for it because (unlike the bendito tarjeta de identidad) it has no practical daily use, especially for foreigners who neither vote nor pay taxes in Spain.  I presume that as proof of legal residence it is used to determine both voter and tax rolls for citizens.  I suppose that it might have some sense if it also functions as an automatic voter registration for citizens, but since (according to the form) it is technically a requirement for all legal residents of Spain, including those "under three months old" it's hard to see it as anything other than a relic of dictatorship.  (My understanding is that you have three months to register yourself at a new address, whether you move from another country or around the block.  If you arrive via someone's uterus your parents have until you are three months old to register you, hence the procedure for under three month olds.  Again, very difficult to see how an infant requires proof of residence in addition to a birth certificate, not mention a baptismal certificate which a friend of mine assured me "resuelva líos" here, but as one of the Fulbright mentors said at orientation "Spaniards love photocopies.")

Take my money! (Please!)

 My woeful tale of trying to open a bank account in Spain (so far, unsuccessfully)

 

I have been trying to open a bank account in Spain, so that Fulbright can pay me my stipend, and I can in turn pay my landlord here (who has very kindly told me not to worry about the fees for international transfers, and that he can wait a few days for the rent).

I was never one of the absurd number of undergrads at Columbia who wanted to work in finance, and I've always found money too boring to study banking and finance closely, but my naive grade-school understanding of how modern consumer banks work is that they make money from having people open accounts, because they then invest their clients' deposits, as well as any commissions or maintenance costs they may charge.  I have lots of friends (particularly here in Spain) who would add a lot more expletives about exactly how much money they make and the ethically dubious methods they use, but leaving aside these opinions (whether reasoned or otherwise), my nutshell understanding of what is euphemistically called the "financial services industry" is that it is a SERVICE industry.  Everyone in Spain has seen the dramatic ways banks can go under, but they also fail if they have no clients.  So you'd think that banks would be very glad to have a new person walk in and say "I want to open an account."  After all, new clients are - if you'll forgive the phrase - money in the bank for them.  My limited experience in the US has certainly been that banks are happy for new customers.  So you would think it would be easy to open an account.

You would be wrong.