This entry isn’t really about getting things done. I mean, sort of it is. We’ll start with that part.
Two weeks ago (I wrote semi-extensively about this), I tried to open a bank account with Banco Santander, the huge multinational bank. They looked at my papers and told me that I needed a certificate of non-residency, which led to my walking around, going to two police stations, getting blisters, and eventually applying for the certificate. Which I now have (I got it today). But when I applied for it, they said that the application was enough to open a bank account.
So, this morning I went first to Santander, and sat down with a woman named Gemma to discuss opening an account. Where “discuss” means that we spent an hour (I’m not exaggerating — literally, an hour) going through paperwork. But yes, we were successful; I now have a bank account here. It even has money in it! I still don’t entirely understand how banking works here, but I have a good idea, and Gemma told me I can email her with questions.
After, I walked to the Police Comissioner’s office, where I got my Certificate of Non-Residency. This is what it says:
EL JEFE DE LA SECCION DE TRATAMIENTO DOCUMENTAL / CERTIFICA: Que a día de hoy, consultado el Registro Central de Extranjeros en España sobre [my personal information], nacional de ESTADOS UNIDOS DE AMERICA. / NO APARECE CONCEDIDA AUTORIZACION DE RESIDENCIA EN VIGOR / Y para que conste, a petición del interesado, se expide el presente para BANCO SANTANDER.
This means (and above I presented it as it appeared, all-caps and all, with the spaces removed (it takes up an entire page); below I translate loosely):
The Document Section Chief certifies that today, looking at the Central Registry of Foreigners in Spain about [Justin], American national, is not granted authorization of residency, and for the record, this petition was issued for Santander Bank.
Which is to say: “Yeah, we weren’t kidding. He really isn’t a resident.”
Anyway, great. Now all that’s left to do is pick up my foreigner’s identity card in a month, and I’ll be set.
Well, not really. I can’t figure out how to access my bank account online, yet (I swear I have all the numbers, and she set it up — I just don’t know which to put where), and I don’t really understand half of the paper-work . . . yeah.
I spent this afternoon reading the internet, sort of, and among other things I came across this article thanks to Alex: The Victims of Pornography, which I found fascinating. They quote in the article this guy who wrote a book I bought two years ago, called Getting Off: Pornography and the End of Masculinity1. I remember being intrigued and kind of bemused by his book (I didn’t read much of it; I bought it almost as a joke, but also because I find the subject interesting, from that Anarchist bookstore in San Francisco), and sort of wondering as to the validity of his claims. I don’t dispute the inhumanity of much of sex work, but I feel like there’s another side, which is presented (for example) in the Sex Workers’ Art Show, which aims to make people talk about sex. I guess my point is that it’s not that pornography and sex work are inherently bad, but rather that we have a kind of fucked up system for them. And isn’t that true in general?
Maybe I’ll head to an art museum now, before it gets too late that they close. Or maybe I’ll just wander around for an hour or two.
1. I think this site is funny. It’s a bit rude, though.