Being Zen

Shortly after moving into a new flat some pals got an email from one of their neighbours. They ran it through Google translate but, even then, they didn't quite understand. It seemed that the neighbour was asking them to put 100€ into a bank account and they didn't see why. They asked me and I happened to know what it was. The note was from the President of the neighbour's association to say that the building's current account only had 34€ left and that each flat needed to chip in 100€ to top up the fund. Each building, generally blocks of flats, where there are private dwellings and shared areas - like the entrance way and the stairs - has, I think by law, to have a community of owners. In my friend's building it seems they've opted for a kitty system instead of a regular fixed charge. The money is used for the upkeep of the common areas - things like maintaining the fire extinguishers and lift or lighting the hallways and stairs.

When I bought my first car I knew that a key questions to the seller was about the length of time left on the MOT even though I'd never taken a car through an MOT check. When I started my first job I knew I needed my National Insurance Number which had magically arrived in the post a little while before. Those and any number of other similar steps came in their time. Quite how I knew what they were, or why they were important, I don't quite know. My best guess is that they just came via some secret initiation into society. I wanted a summer job as a student and I went to the Labour Exchange. For my first passport I got a form from the Post Office. Probably, in reality, my dad or mum told me or everyone else at school or at college was doing the same thing at the same time. These things come at intervals, they don't usually come in one gigantic torrent though there are times when they do - for instance when you move house.

When we gúiris move to Spain it's a moving house plus. There's that deluge of jobs you'd have in Amersham or Fleetwood but this time it's in a system that hasn't been drip-feeding your consciousness since you were knee high to a grasshopper. Some things you sort of expect, they're just the same, or at least apparently the same, as wherever you came from. Others are a bit of a surprise. I remember the outrage, as well as the confusion, when I went to buy a butane bottle for the gas heater I'd just bought. I couldn't simply buy the gas - I needed all sort of documentation that seemed, at the time, to be bureaucracy gone mad. There's another, much subtler factor at work. You think that you are facing a process you recognise, you think you know what's going on but it turns out that the approach is completely different. For instance, do a British type exam or test and you get rewarded for demonstrating what you know or can do - you gain points to get towards 100% while in a Spanish exam you start with 100% and points are subtracted for errors and omissions to move you towards zero. You won't notice till you have to pass your driving test or want to get the DELE certificate to become a nationalised Spaniard. Another example would be days off work. In the UK your job involves holiday entitlement, in Spain there are days when you are not expected to work. The end result is surprisingly different.

On top of this change of system there's the language. It's quite strange how Spanish responds to an idea of seriousness. So, even if your everyday Spanish is coming along quite nicely the Spanish you encounter in tax letters or dealings with the employment service will be different. Serious matters need serious (read archaic, overblown and needlessly complex) language. You wouldn't think the selection process for the Spanish entry to the Eurovision Song Contest could be classed as serious but certainly a part of it was. The participants and presenters used everyday and modish language but when it came to the results of the vote there was a marked change of tone. The presenter might be wearing a latex frock slashed to the navel but the language for the vote was ritualised and serious. Long and seldom used verbs, instead of common ones, were used - points weren't given they were bestowed (obviously I'm translating here). They used another unusual word to describe the results from a polling sample who get to vote on the songs. The polling sample is chosen to reflect Spanish society as a whole - so many old people, so many men, so many transgender, so many city dwellers etc.  It's the same process that market research people use for their surveys. Would you know that it's called a demoscopic sample? It would have been easy to call it the public vote or even a representative sample but they didn't. No. The demoscopic jury bestowed 40 points on Paloma Blanca. Another simple example might be at fiesta time. Because the bars are often heaving with people the usual rule of paying when you've finished is often replaced by one of paying as you're served. As often as not there are notices behind the bar to tell you this. But they use the verb abonar instead of the usual pagar. So you get something like "Please settle your debt at the time of purchase" rather than "Please pay as you are served". It shows they're not messing about, they're official and the language proves it.

Of course it all gets easier with time, the jobs begin to settle down and you get to know your way around better, both literally and metaphorically. It's not that they go away; you still have to get the car through the roadworthiness test or renew your ID document and do an annual tax return or re-register on the council register but the urgency, the apparently never ending list of jobs does slow.