Legal at Last

August 22, 2012

Since returning from Scotland, I have been quite busy.  When my visa was shipped to be a few months ago, it was accompanied by a list of specific instructions about how to obtain my official student residence card (believe it or not, my visa is only valid for the first 3 months of my studies).  Within 30 days of my entry into Spain, I had to go to the Oficina de Extranjeria (Foreigner’s Office) in Barcelona to register as a resident and obtain my NIE (student card).  After walking a brisk 30 minutes to the Oficina de Extranjeria, I was told that I needed to go to the office specific to my neighborhood.  Luckily, they handed me a map and it was only about a 15 minute walk away.  After being encouraged by the officer at the Oficina de Extranjeria that because I was American, I would have my ID card that very day, I set off for my district office with a spring in my step.  After my previous experiences with Spanish governmental bureaucracy while studying in Salamanca, I should have known better than to be quite so hopeful.  Upon arrival at my district’s foreign registration office, I was asked if I had a long list of documents with me (none of these documents, of course, was ever mentioned to me before).  I took a picture of the sign listing all of the required paperwork and told the officer that I would see him tomorrow.

The first thing on the list was to register with my specific neighborhood’s Ajuntament (mayor’s office) to declare my residency and obtain a certificate of residency from them.  Being as I had NO IDEA where this office was located (I am perhaps one of the few people in my generation who does not own a smart phone), and the fact that it was nearly 1 pm (all government offices are only open from 9-2 daily), I decided to call it a day and head home to do some make-up work from the Catalan lessons I missed while in Scotland.

The next day, I looked up my neighborhood’s Ajuntament.  Of course, it was a 45 minute walk away with NEITHER trains, metros, or busses that would get me there any faster.  It was really apart from the city (I live right on the dividing line of Gracia – one of the most central neighborhoods of the city – and Sarria/St. Gervasi – one of the furthest away from the city center close to the mountains).  So, with my Google maps directions in hand, I headed off to find the Ajuntament.  After about an hour of being hopelessly lost in transit, I decided to ask some older people reading the paper on some benches alongside the main road.  Each one that I asked informed me that I was, indeed, quite far away from where I needed to be, and kindly directed me toward the Ajuntament.  After 3 hours of walking in the sweltering Barcelona heat and asking nearly half a dozen elderly members of my community, I finally reached the Ajuntament.  Within 15 minutes, I had my letter and an information packet about my new neighborhood.

Armed with this information and being that is was only 11:30, I set off for the Oficina de Extranjeria.  I had all but my passport sized photos and photocopies of my passport and visa (I would do that on the way – I was DETERMINED to get my NIE today).  Sure enough, one a block away from the Oficina de Extranjeria, I found a very nice lady who helped me with my photocopies, passport sized photos, and even helped me check over my paperwork to make sure it was filled out correctly (I had made a few mistakes, and she even gave me new forms for free).  The best (and quite possibly, most embarrassing) part of my experience was when she told me, “Honey, there are paper towels over there and a mirror if you want to wipe the sweat off your face before I take you picture”.  MORTIFIED, yet grateful.

After this quick 10 minute stop-off, I headed back to the Oficina de Extranjeria (it was only 12:30 – today was the day). 

When I arrived at the gate, I was informed that there were no more appointments for the day and that if I didn’t have a number, I would not be granted access.  The officer told me to come back the next morning and suggested that I get there early (around 8 am) even though they don’t open until 9. 

I went back early the next morning thinking I was being smart for getting up so early and believing that I wouldn’t have any problems.  I waltzed through the gate and was directed to a waiting room.  When I walked into the OUTDOOR waiting room, I almost couldn’t breathe.  There were AT LEAST 100 other people ALREADY THERE!!!!!!  I got a sinking feeling in my throat as I realized that this was going to take a while. 

Finally about 9:30, an officer came out and started calling numbers (I was number 113).  I was lucky enough to get in the main waiting room on the second round of numbers (he called 60 people at a time).  From there I only had a mere 2 hour wait for a 10 minute appointment.  I was fingerprinted, asked to sign a few documents, and given a temporary NIE.   Yes, you heard me, a TEMPORARY NIE.  I will have to go to yet another government office at the end of September to pick up my official NIE card.

Although this was a less than pleasant experience, it truly made me appreciate everything that I have back at home;  as well as the freedoms that I have (even while abroad) as an American.  Despite the difficult nature of my immigration process, I know that it was far easier for me, being American, than it is for the majority of immigrants here (I witnessed some nasty encounters in the waiting room).  I truly believe that everyone should live outside of their home country for at least a year and experience what life is like as an immigrant.  I believe that it would have a profound impact on the way that we treat immigrants in our own country and the process to obtain legalization.