Personal Struggles and Spanish Government Troubles

"So that was the last time I was in Spain, and it pains me to say I don't know when I'll be back. If I'm to be in any other country, I would want it to be Spain. There's no other place I feel so at home when I'm not actually at home. So here's to Spain, and to hopefully going back someday. Maybe when they have some jobs."

I wrote those words on July 14th, 2012 when I left Spain, not knowing when I'd ever return. It was like saying goodbye to an old friend who is moving away, and genuinely doubting you'd ever see each other again. However, as luck would have it (actually I shouldn't use the term "luck" here because I feel like I worked my butt off to be where I am), I successfully made it back to Spain.

The journey was long and arduous, and that's due only in part to the internal struggle of a quarter life crisis I experienced and my increasing sense of urgency in my last year at school, feeling as though if I didn't sort out some kind of post-grad life for myself I was an abject failure. The journey was long an arduous mostly due to the inefficiencies and user-unfriendly nature of the Spanish government, but that's a story for a little later on.

It was around October in my post-travels existentialism that I realized that there was really nothing keeping me in the United States. I could go anywhere if I wanted. My family, of course, is in North Carolina, and I love them dearly, but at the starry eyed age of 22, I have absolutely no anchors. My first thought was Australia. Bustling economy aside, I have lots of friends there, and again, why not? But I couldn't escape the feeling that it was the wrong move. Especially after trying to talk my dad into it, it felt like-who am I really trying to convince? I don't believe in fate or any sort of divine guidance, but I knew that no matter how much I tried to rationalize it ("Their economy is great, their pay rate is great, and any employer is going to appreciate international experience, no matter where it's from" I told myself), Australia just isn't where I'm meant to be (also I may have had other motives). After spending eight years of my life studying Spanish, after studying abroad in a Spanish speaking country three separate times, after earning a four year degree in Spanish, I just couldn't justify going to another English speaking country after graduation, even if (or perhaps, most especially if) there are hot boys there.

Spain, which stole my heart two years ago, seemed woefully off the table. Economically destitute, the Spanish are having a hard enough time finding jobs for themselves, and as a result, obtaining a work visa in Spain is nearly impossible these days, unless you've found yourself some special circumstances. After visiting the idea of going to South America, my searches came up empty when all of the programs I found were more "volunteer-for-a-fee" than actual paying jobs. So what did I do? I found myself some special circumstances.

The Auxiliares program is run through the government (god knows how they pay for it), and they hire young English and French speaking professionals to come and teach their language in a Spanish school for a monthly salary. A lot of young twenty-something recent graduates do it, and you can see why. It's Spain! and a very ripe opportunity. When will you ever be so free (anchor-less as I said before) that you can just leave and go to Spain for a few years? Teaching English abroad is a really popular thing to do, and certainly not just in Europe, but it is a young man's game. You either do it now or regret not doing it when you're 40 (or you're one of those infinitely weird people who doesn't care about going abroad).

However, the program is not without its drawbacks. It's not exactly an easy process. You can apply on your own through the Spanish government's website (It's all in Spanish and I'm not sure but I think it might also be stuck in 1999), which is long and difficult to navigate, but perfectly doable. If you're not going to brave it on your own, you can do it through an agency like CIEE, which can make things much, much easier for you (and I'm not sure, but I think people who go through agencies get priority over those who don't when it comes to things like preferences in which city to live in or which schools to work in), but it comes at a price. About $700 later, you have someone to hold your hand all the way through the application process, the visa process, and then resources on the other side when you arrive to Spain. You decide if it's worth it, I guess.

So the application...An essay, a resume, two recommendations, and lots and lots of filling in personal information. It's not impossible, and I'm proof of that. One of my biggest problems with the whole process (even still now, now that I'm here) is that even though they allow you to register preferences when it comes to which region you'd like to go to, where you want to live (city, pueblo, or rural), and what age/school you'd like to teach at, the system is far from perfect. First, the region preference is all kindsa whack. They give you three columns, and you can pick one from each column and name it as your first, second, or third pick. Mine, for instance, were going to be 1. Andalucia 2. Valencia 3. Madrid. When I went to go register these, however, all three were in the same column, meaning I had to pick one of the three. Instead, I went for 1. Andalucia 2. Galicia and 3. Pais Basco.

Furthermore, as far as I can tell, the assignments seem to be almost completely random. I of course put university level and city setting as my preferences. I put my application in on February 15th, almost two months before the deadline, and I ended up in Galicia (not too bad, as my 2nd choice, but when you think about it, it wasn't really my second choice, was it?) in As Neves, a town so small its Wikipedia page is summed up in a paragraph (pop: 4,500 or so-and that's generous). The closest city is Vigo, about 35 minutes away by car. But I don't have a car.

A friend of mine (who won't be named and hopefully won't read this passive aggressive rant) submitted her application with the agency CIEE two days after the deadline, and is happily placed in Madrid for the coming year. Totally not bitter though. (No, seriously, I'm not bitter at all. I'm very happy here in Vigo, but I'd like to note that it's the process I'm disillusioned with, not my friend. I'm very happy for her.)

The visa process was easy enough, but the sheer volume of documents they need is crazy. I knew it was coming, so I went ahead and had a physical done back in March, but aside from that you need photos of yourself, a doctor's note, a criminal background check (which is its own animal), and the contract from the school among other things. You can't begin the visa process until you get your letter from the school you'll be working at, and if you're like me, you might not get your letter until well into June, leaving you with not much time at all to get all of your visa things done.

So it's really just the luck of the draw. You get to place preferences when it comes to region, but you don't get to pick your city. Some people get to live right in the middle of Valencia, others find themselves in a tiny pueblo an hour's drive from any of the large cities. I could speak on other tales of poor luck, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Before I get to all that, I just want to say that I've arrived and I'm very excited and terrified and nervous and thrilled to be here. I never ever thought I'd become a teacher, but here we are.

Let me explain briefly why I made a new blog. I could, of course, tell you pseudo reasons for the name change, like I grew out of the old blog and I'm a new person and it's time for a change blah blah blah, but truth be told, I just really hated the name. I've hated it since I very first got to Spain as a 19 year old. It's not a great translation, it's clunky, and I couldn't even include the ñ because I created it on an American keyboard before I knew better ways of saying what I wanted to say (and besides, it means "I am going to go to Spain," and that just doesn't make sense anymore). Now that I've wrapped the old one up, I've been thinking about names for this one. I considered "The Spanish Apartment" or some variation thereof (inspired by the movie), "Ya No Soy Turista" (No longer a tourist), but my boss and her husband (who have graciously let me stay with their family the last week) explained a well-used expression in Spanish. "Un pulpo en un garaje" means "an octopus in a garage," and that, my friends, is how you say "a fish out of water" in Spanish.

For now, that's me. I'm the octopus.



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