Terrorism and the Spanish Attitude
First and foremost, I want to let you all know that both I and my family are all OK. Many many thanks to those who have called or emailed me with respects to my safety here in Spain. They certainly comforted me during a time of fear and concern. Fortunately none of us (my family) have been directly affected by the terroristic attacks that occured in the US 12 days ago, although as thousands of others, have experienced close calls. Unfortunately, the husband of one of my brother´s co-workers was a co-pilot in one of the planes that crashed into the World Trade Center. I encourage you all to visit the web page that has been set up in his memory. He appears to have been a remarkable person.
On the day of the attacks, within 10 minutes of the first attack, my cell phone began to ring incessantly from my friends all over Spain calling to check in on me and let me know what was on the news. The attacks on the WTC occurred during the “siesta” hour here in Spain, the time that most everyone is at home eating the main meal of the day and watching the main newscasts. I was in Madrid that day, having just picked up a couple of friends at the airport arrving from Philadelphia a couple of hours earlier. The three of us watched in horror as we saw the second attack on the WTC live on the news.
Many of you have emailed or called asking me about the attitude in Spain with regards to what the Spaniards thought about these terroristic attacks. As I have mentioned previously, terrorism is nothing new to Spainards. In Spain exists the ETA terrorist group, based in the Basque regions of Spain (north) and France (south), which continuously fights for its independence from Spain. However, its attacks are, for the most part, very targeted to specific politicians, journalists, reporters and police. They do not compare in magnitude to the mass destruction suffered by the USA (and the world) the other week. Spainards and the Spanish government are very much behind the USA in its global effort to eliminate terrorism around the world, whether it be in the name of Islamic Terrorists, Basque Separatists / terrorists, or the Irish Republican Army in the name Catholic Separatism. What the Spaniards (and the rest of Europe in general) don´t want, however, is an indescriminate and “knee jerk” response by the US government in the name of an international coalition that will serve only the needs of the American people. The general thought here is if the US is truly concerned about eliminating terrorism on a global level, then it must take into consideration the global effects its actions will have.
There are two American military bases located here in Spain, which the Spanish government has given authorization to the US to use in its efforts to combat world terrorism. However, a poorly thought out plan by the US government (meaning...a failure to take into consideration global concerns...not just American interests) could possibly result in attacks to these US bases (or any other US military bases or American institutions around the world) affecting not only the US, but also the host country. Spain is rich in Arabic culture as evidenced in it´s architecture particularly throughout Andalusia (southern Spain) and the entire Valencian (Mediterranean coast) region. Being just a hop skip and a jump from the Middle East, and the primary entry point for Morroccans, Algerians and other Muslims into Europe, Spain is rightfully concerned about any military repercussions.
Ok, I am getting off my soap box…Onto a lighter topic…
Employment in Spain
I have learned alot about how Spaniards “save face” when put into uncomfortable positions. My rather successful interview process with the Red Cross of the Valencian Region came to a screeching halt the other day when I spoke with the president and informed him of our definitive move to Madrid in a few weeks, and declining the organization´s offer of employment. Right from the very beginning of the interview process, I was frank with him and the other local presidents that I met with letting them know of an outside chance of us moving to Madrid. His frustration at our decision was made clear through his thinly veiled comments of “I knew from the beginning that this would be a problem for us (Red Cross)”, “From the start I thought that you were too young and inexperienced to do fundraising for us”, “your status here is so unstable. You aren´t certain how long you will be here in Spain..you will probably move back to the United States”. Wow...I really had to hold my diplomatic tongue. DH as well as a few other Spanish friends, were horrified and livid. I´ll just chalk it up to experience and a big political ego. I have dealt with both before!
So, it´s off to Madrid we go...actually a small town a half hour north of the city in the foothills of the mountains. We will have a white Christmas and DH has promised me a live Christmas tree! We fell in love with the charming town which is much smaller than where we live now...so is our flat..it´s about half the size, but we will be nice and cozy and closer to his family. We will be moving in about 3 weeks.
Speaking of being closer to family…I should write a book about what I did for love… moved to a foreign country, left my career, family & friends in the USA, became dependent on a man (horrors!) and have successfully spent two weeks alone with my mother-in-law. I lie, we were not alone, we have been accompanied the whole time by her two small yappy type dogs. The first week we were in their summer “home” two hours north of Madrid, this week we came here to Gandía. Geeze, I must REALLY love Ángel. At least he can no longer accuse me of shedding my long hair here…the dogs have been giving me some fierce competition.
Being with my “suegra” (mother in law) does have its advantages. I have learned how to clean and cook octopus, clean, de-spine and prepare a variety of fish...including sardines marinated in lemon juice. Yes, raw sardines marinated in lemon juice with a little salt. If you are a sushi fan, I recommend you try it..it´s actually really good! I have also learned how they clean houses here in Spain (vs the American way), the right way to wash dishes...etc. Actually, in all honesty, it has been great getting to know her.
Philadelphia has been on Spanish TV an awful lot lately. First it began with Kraft´s advertising campaign of Philadelphia cream cheese. Every half hour this commercial would be on TV. Then all of a sudden, Pans & Company (think Spanish version of Subway) brought to the discriminating Spanish palates the Famous Philadelphia Cheesesteak...fresh from the other side of the Atlantic. Go figure! Too bad the city can´t be internationally known for more notable things...like it´s history (a drop in the bucket compared to the history here in Spain), or the wonderful variety of restaurants, or its diversity.
Showing posts with label job searching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label job searching. Show all posts
Saturday, September 22, 2001
Tuesday, July 10, 2001
Surviving the Valencian Summer
Summer is here! Although in Gandía the weather is really mild year round with no “white winter”, summer is really something else. With tempurates soaring into the 90´s by 10 am my daily routine includes closing all the blinds and lower the awnings by 7am before the sun begins to enter the house. Otherwise, all day the house will be like an oven…and Lord knows if I really want to roast myself, I just need to go 2km to the beach. Gandía is the summer haven for nearly half of Madrid. Being situated in the middle of the country, Madrid has no beach to call its own. So, it has taken over Gandía...5 hours east of the city. DH and I are looking forward to our opportunity to escape because the noise level is becoming unbearable...parties and racuous voices at all hours of the night and day. It paints quite a different picture of the picturesque Spain that one's mind may conjure up.
With the arrival of summertime come some of the most world known Spanish festivals. Among them San Fermín (the “Running of the Bulls”) in Pamplona and the Tomatina (the tomato fight) in Buñol, a small town in the Valencian province. Hemmingway, in his book, The Sun Also Rises, made famous the Running of the Bulls for Americans... and one trip to Pamplona would show just that...streets and bars are named after him, and during the actual week long festival, the city brims with many party goers, the largest percentage of them North Americans, specifically from the USA. Many residents of Pamplona escape from the city during this time. The fact of the matter, encierros (enclosures), as they are called in Spain, existed long before Hemmingway was born and they are a tradition that is carried out in many towns across Spain to this day. Contrary to popular belief, this tradition is not built on cruelty to animals, but is based upon the act of bringing the bulls from the pasture to the bull ring, either to sell or to participate in a bullfight. The mozos (the herdsmen), who train throughout the year for this incredible movement, run with the bulls to keep them on their path, always respecting their space and respecting the bull. Over the years, this tradition in Pamplona has become an international spectacle, encouraging a sense of false bravado in partygoers...a bravado that is only enhanced by the consumption of alcohol and extreme levels of exhaustion from having partied all night long. In 1998 (just before meeting Angel), I was in Pamplona for this festival. While I admit that it is a party worth experiencing once in a lifetime, it is also the most grotesque display of excessiveness that you could ever see. Perhaps Mardi Gras in Río de Janeiro would rival it. Every year, the Spanish newspapers fill with articles about the foreigners who come to party and then run with the bulls and every year, without fail, there are serious injuries, among them, Americans. This year a 29 year old woman from New Jersey suffered a foot long cornado (gored by the horn) in her thigh as well as serious head injuries. Imagine her story when she goes back home...”how I spent my summer vacation”. People don´t give a second thought to the danger of running with the bulls when they haven´t trained for it. Each bull weighs around 1,860 lbs…and there are 11 of them that are released into the streets. I had a prime seat, on the ground on just the other side of the fence. I could hear and feel the bulls coming long before they actually passed in front of me.. Just imagine..20,500 lbs of fear, confusion and fury running down wet, cobblestoned streets that twist and turn their way to the bullring...and you are going to throw yourself in front of THAT? WHAT ARE THEY THINKING?!! Apparently many Americans think it´s a great idea so much that there is actually a Running of the Bulls in (Reno I think) Nevada.
To answer the several of you who wrote me asking what the heck was a Vespa, here you can see exactly what I am talking about.
These motor bikes are not nearly as large or powerful as motorcycles, but are similar in terms of danger both to the riders as well as car drivers. They are very popular throughout Spain and Italy for a number of reasons...they are an economical and efficient way of getting around congested city streets and consume little gas, as well, the Mediterranean climate lends itself to this form of transportation. Everyone rides them from the messengers, to the pizza delivery boy, to businessmen with their briefcases, to grandmas with their grandkids (either the grand kid giving Grandma a lift or viceversa if the granchild is very young!).
Return of the prodigal sleeping bag
Remember the sleeping bag that fell to my dismay 3 stories down and got caught on the clothesline of a vacant flat? Well, turns out that the owner of the flat is from Madrid and has come to town to vacation...I was able to rescue the bag just in time for our camping trip to the Pyrenees this summer. However, just yesterday, a placemat decided to jump out of my hands and has faced the same fate, dangling from the clothesline from our neighbors on the second floor. I paid them a visit yesterday, but there was no answer. With my luck, they are from Gandía and have left town for the summer to escape the arrival of all the tourists.
Gandía...the town where everyone knows your name
Are you looking for someone specific? Go to the local “hot spot” or gossip center and you will be able to find their whereabouts very easily. That´s what Rosa did. I spoke with Rosa on the phone a few weeks ago, expressing interest in volunteering for an organization that she is involved with. How excited she was. I told her I would call when I came back from my quick visit to the USA. Two days after coming back, my arms laden with bags from the grocery store, I hear a woman call my name and wave wildly to me from across the street. “Who the heck??...” I thought to myself as this strange woman came running up and gave me the customary kiss on each cheek, talking a mile a minute as if she knew me all her life. Turns out that it was Rosa. She tracked down my address and went, where else?, but to the bakery and asked the breadwoman if she knew who I was or how she could find me. Heaven help me! Just my luck that I am coming out of the grocery store while this is happening so breadwoman simply pointed me out.
Gandía has a McDonalds!
Yep, that´s right, just in time for all the vacationing Madrileños who wouldn´t want to leave their urban lifestyle behind. It just opened the other day, and has a new international menu featuring the McSahara, McAustralia, and McMexico sandwiches. Don´t ask, I don´t even want to know. I´m waiting for my Venezuelan brother, Angelo, and his wife to come visit. They will be here in about two weeks, for both business and pleasure. The purpose of his visit? To see the possibilities of opening a “Churro Express”. Churros are Spanish pastries that are typically eaten with a mug of thick hot chocolate. (Thick like pudding thick). That tradition went with the explorers to “the new world” and now the modern day Venezolanos are bringing it back to Spain by way of franchise. Maybe Gandía will have one soon…
My job search oddessy has taken me into Madrid for three different interviews...each opportunity very interesting...Avanade – as marketing manager for Spain, Editorial Plana – as an international sales executive, and Greenpeace Spain – for fundraising. The first company closed its search since the current manager has decided to stay on. Editorial Plana would have been dream job for a year or so if I weren´t married. It involved international travel 11 months of the year interviewing presidents and heads of states around the world for advertising supplements for the Washington Post, Financial Times and other internationally known publications. I am hoping to be called back for a second interview for Greenpeace and should know some time this week. In the meantime, I do have a job offer from the Red Cross for the Valencian Region as well as another non-profit called A.V.A.R. (Asociación Valenciana para la Ayuda a los Refugiados). We shall see...DH really wants to return to Madrid. Since we are entering the summer, there really isn´t a whole lot of rush since business won´t pick up again until September. I am happy to say, however, that the three interviews that I had in Madrid were much more like real job interviews. Especially the one for Greenpeace in which I was grilled for an hour and a half on my fundraising experience.
It´s time to close and begin my housewifely duties … hopefully I will be able to hang out the laundry without losing another article of clothing!
Peace to all!
With the arrival of summertime come some of the most world known Spanish festivals. Among them San Fermín (the “Running of the Bulls”) in Pamplona and the Tomatina (the tomato fight) in Buñol, a small town in the Valencian province. Hemmingway, in his book, The Sun Also Rises, made famous the Running of the Bulls for Americans... and one trip to Pamplona would show just that...streets and bars are named after him, and during the actual week long festival, the city brims with many party goers, the largest percentage of them North Americans, specifically from the USA. Many residents of Pamplona escape from the city during this time. The fact of the matter, encierros (enclosures), as they are called in Spain, existed long before Hemmingway was born and they are a tradition that is carried out in many towns across Spain to this day. Contrary to popular belief, this tradition is not built on cruelty to animals, but is based upon the act of bringing the bulls from the pasture to the bull ring, either to sell or to participate in a bullfight. The mozos (the herdsmen), who train throughout the year for this incredible movement, run with the bulls to keep them on their path, always respecting their space and respecting the bull. Over the years, this tradition in Pamplona has become an international spectacle, encouraging a sense of false bravado in partygoers...a bravado that is only enhanced by the consumption of alcohol and extreme levels of exhaustion from having partied all night long. In 1998 (just before meeting Angel), I was in Pamplona for this festival. While I admit that it is a party worth experiencing once in a lifetime, it is also the most grotesque display of excessiveness that you could ever see. Perhaps Mardi Gras in Río de Janeiro would rival it. Every year, the Spanish newspapers fill with articles about the foreigners who come to party and then run with the bulls and every year, without fail, there are serious injuries, among them, Americans. This year a 29 year old woman from New Jersey suffered a foot long cornado (gored by the horn) in her thigh as well as serious head injuries. Imagine her story when she goes back home...”how I spent my summer vacation”. People don´t give a second thought to the danger of running with the bulls when they haven´t trained for it. Each bull weighs around 1,860 lbs…and there are 11 of them that are released into the streets. I had a prime seat, on the ground on just the other side of the fence. I could hear and feel the bulls coming long before they actually passed in front of me.. Just imagine..20,500 lbs of fear, confusion and fury running down wet, cobblestoned streets that twist and turn their way to the bullring...and you are going to throw yourself in front of THAT? WHAT ARE THEY THINKING?!! Apparently many Americans think it´s a great idea so much that there is actually a Running of the Bulls in (Reno I think) Nevada.
To answer the several of you who wrote me asking what the heck was a Vespa, here you can see exactly what I am talking about.
These motor bikes are not nearly as large or powerful as motorcycles, but are similar in terms of danger both to the riders as well as car drivers. They are very popular throughout Spain and Italy for a number of reasons...they are an economical and efficient way of getting around congested city streets and consume little gas, as well, the Mediterranean climate lends itself to this form of transportation. Everyone rides them from the messengers, to the pizza delivery boy, to businessmen with their briefcases, to grandmas with their grandkids (either the grand kid giving Grandma a lift or viceversa if the granchild is very young!).
Return of the prodigal sleeping bag
Remember the sleeping bag that fell to my dismay 3 stories down and got caught on the clothesline of a vacant flat? Well, turns out that the owner of the flat is from Madrid and has come to town to vacation...I was able to rescue the bag just in time for our camping trip to the Pyrenees this summer. However, just yesterday, a placemat decided to jump out of my hands and has faced the same fate, dangling from the clothesline from our neighbors on the second floor. I paid them a visit yesterday, but there was no answer. With my luck, they are from Gandía and have left town for the summer to escape the arrival of all the tourists.
Gandía...the town where everyone knows your name
Are you looking for someone specific? Go to the local “hot spot” or gossip center and you will be able to find their whereabouts very easily. That´s what Rosa did. I spoke with Rosa on the phone a few weeks ago, expressing interest in volunteering for an organization that she is involved with. How excited she was. I told her I would call when I came back from my quick visit to the USA. Two days after coming back, my arms laden with bags from the grocery store, I hear a woman call my name and wave wildly to me from across the street. “Who the heck??...” I thought to myself as this strange woman came running up and gave me the customary kiss on each cheek, talking a mile a minute as if she knew me all her life. Turns out that it was Rosa. She tracked down my address and went, where else?, but to the bakery and asked the breadwoman if she knew who I was or how she could find me. Heaven help me! Just my luck that I am coming out of the grocery store while this is happening so breadwoman simply pointed me out.
Gandía has a McDonalds!
Yep, that´s right, just in time for all the vacationing Madrileños who wouldn´t want to leave their urban lifestyle behind. It just opened the other day, and has a new international menu featuring the McSahara, McAustralia, and McMexico sandwiches. Don´t ask, I don´t even want to know. I´m waiting for my Venezuelan brother, Angelo, and his wife to come visit. They will be here in about two weeks, for both business and pleasure. The purpose of his visit? To see the possibilities of opening a “Churro Express”. Churros are Spanish pastries that are typically eaten with a mug of thick hot chocolate. (Thick like pudding thick). That tradition went with the explorers to “the new world” and now the modern day Venezolanos are bringing it back to Spain by way of franchise. Maybe Gandía will have one soon…
My job search oddessy has taken me into Madrid for three different interviews...each opportunity very interesting...Avanade – as marketing manager for Spain, Editorial Plana – as an international sales executive, and Greenpeace Spain – for fundraising. The first company closed its search since the current manager has decided to stay on. Editorial Plana would have been dream job for a year or so if I weren´t married. It involved international travel 11 months of the year interviewing presidents and heads of states around the world for advertising supplements for the Washington Post, Financial Times and other internationally known publications. I am hoping to be called back for a second interview for Greenpeace and should know some time this week. In the meantime, I do have a job offer from the Red Cross for the Valencian Region as well as another non-profit called A.V.A.R. (Asociación Valenciana para la Ayuda a los Refugiados). We shall see...DH really wants to return to Madrid. Since we are entering the summer, there really isn´t a whole lot of rush since business won´t pick up again until September. I am happy to say, however, that the three interviews that I had in Madrid were much more like real job interviews. Especially the one for Greenpeace in which I was grilled for an hour and a half on my fundraising experience.
It´s time to close and begin my housewifely duties … hopefully I will be able to hang out the laundry without losing another article of clothing!
Peace to all!
Wednesday, June 06, 2001
Spanish Economy 101 and my Job Search
I was going to send this out last week, but as they say in Spain...mañana, mañana...I will do it mañana (tomorrow). I have been really busy here doing much of nothing.. …I take nice walks on the beach, am learning to drive stick shift, have been busy seeking volunteer opportunities, and have been introduced into the wonderful world of job seeking here in Spain.
I went grocery shopping today and spent 1,188 pesetas, or 7.14 Euros...in layman’s terms, a little over $6.00. Woo-hoo...I had to buy a few things that we needed at home. This is what $6.00 got me: bread (think long French baguette), a dozen medium sized eggs, 100 grams of smoked salmon, 1 kilo ground coffee, 1 liter of olive oil and 1 kilo popcorn kernels. Not bad eh?? That little purchase would have cost me about $15.00 (estimate) in the USA. Grocery shopping is relatively economical here. Other things are quite expensive. Gasoline, for example, costs .82 cents a liter. There are roughly 2.5 liters in a gallon (please correct me if I am wrong...I am trying to get these measurements down). That means a gallon of gas costs $2.05. Ouch. That’s rough when you consider that the median salary here is about half of what it is in the USA. Which explains why everyone drives such tiny cars here...and why everyone walks when they can...and why Vespas are so popular. Teenagers don’t drive cars here, they drive Vespas...and boy are they dangerous...
Who would have guessed that it would cost about $500 for me to get my driver’s license here in Spain? That’s not the worst part, the worst is that I have to learn how to drive stick shift amidst all those darn Vespas. I feel like pied piper with all those rats around me. They take the pedestrian crossings here seriously. If someone is waiting to cross in the ped walk, you stop. New Jersey is a great state...beaches (although they don’t compare to the ones here), casinos and those lovely circles and jug handles. I really hated those circles and jug handles...I figured once I got to Spain, I wouldn’t see them again. Silly me. Learning to drive stick shift and making my way around those circles without cutting off those annoying Vespas or running down the “marujas” with their baby strollers will be the death of me yet (or them..).
Speaking of the “marujas” (housewives) with their babies, I am continually amazed at the preference that dogs are given here. They are treated like babies too. The dog of choice here is anything small and yappy. UGH...for those of you who know me well... ha ha ha.. These dogs are everywhere, in the drug stores, the drycleaners, the grocery store, on their owners´ laps on the park benches, in those tiny elevators...wherever its owner is, the dog is. No kidding, I have seen dogs here smaller than the cat that my parents own. What I find truly amusing are the “sandboxes” on every block. Heaven forbid one of those marujas lets her kids play in the sandbox. Think public litter boxes for dogs. Honest to God. There is even a sign posted above them sporting a picture of a dog with droplets coming from you know where. I walked past one the other day that actually had a fence around it with a gate. I guess, to offer the dog more privacy as it does its thing. Who would’ve guessed. However, damned be you if you should find toilet paper in the public restrooms...
I have sent out over 200 resumes via regular mail, online postings, through professional and personal contacts. It is standard practice (expected) that the resume/CV is accompanied with my picture (headshot) and a lot of personal information such as date of birth, marital status, age…etc. Amazing. It’s a question of waiting now…...and sending more out tomorrow, and the next day and the next. So far those efforts have scored me interviews with three different companies.
The first one that I interviewed with was for selling long distance telephone service. I milked it for all that it was worth...not because I was interested in the job, but because I wanted to get a sense of how it all works (business) here in Spain. When I was here 14 years ago, I was only concerned with meeting up with my friends, drinking coffee --or substitute any alcoholic beverage -- playing pool and seeing how many people we could fit onto a Vespa. Now it’s time for me to be serious. I scored a second interview with the company...but the guy stood me up! ¡Qué morro! (What nerve).
The second company that I interviewed with was a Spanish affiliate of a major American insurance firm. The first interview was kind of suspect...held at a hotel bar (smacked of Amway or other multi-level marketing scam)...so DH drove me and scoped out the territory from a safe distance in another part of the bar. One by one, the job aspirants were shown to a room where two different tables were set up for two different interviewers. The first guy was nice enough...asked me run of the mill text book human resources questions. He then directed me to the second guy who continued with the same line of questioning. What killed me was when he asked me if my husband knew that I was there for the interview. Ha ha ha ha!!! Machismo has not died! I did not tell him DH told me that I was given the “sex check”...when I was ushered into the room, both the interviewers checked me out head to toe from the bar (unbeknownst to me). After the first interviewer was done with me, he apparently had a conversation at the bar with the second interviewer who asked something along the lines of “is she cute?” (all this according to what DH overheard).
I am a candidate for a major fundraising position at an international non-profit. The first interview was a matter of listening to the regional president do all the talking. The second interview was with 5 presidents of the local chapters. It was more like a conversation in a bar than anything else. “Where are you from?” “You don’t look American, are you Puerto Rican?” (last time I checked, Puerto Ricans were also Americans) “Are you married?” “Do you have any kids?” (no, I have a husband and that’s enough for now). “Are you going to have any kids in the near future?” (I don’t know, are your birth control pills effective here?). What a job interview. No questions about how much money I have managed, no requests for references, special campaigns, etc. The youngest guy asked me three semi relevant questions...have I ever managed volunteers? Have I ever worked with politicians? Do I plan to live in Valencia (do you mean forever??). That was it. I had to pinch myself...then later repeat practically verbatim the interview for DH asking him if it were a real interview...he said that that´s how they go here. What´s written on the CV is believed.
Anyway, I am constantly surprised at the “laid back” and trusting attitude that everyone has here, and frankly, find it a welcome change from the rat race that was my life...even if the interviews don´t really seem to be interviews!
I went grocery shopping today and spent 1,188 pesetas, or 7.14 Euros...in layman’s terms, a little over $6.00. Woo-hoo...I had to buy a few things that we needed at home. This is what $6.00 got me: bread (think long French baguette), a dozen medium sized eggs, 100 grams of smoked salmon, 1 kilo ground coffee, 1 liter of olive oil and 1 kilo popcorn kernels. Not bad eh?? That little purchase would have cost me about $15.00 (estimate) in the USA. Grocery shopping is relatively economical here. Other things are quite expensive. Gasoline, for example, costs .82 cents a liter. There are roughly 2.5 liters in a gallon (please correct me if I am wrong...I am trying to get these measurements down). That means a gallon of gas costs $2.05. Ouch. That’s rough when you consider that the median salary here is about half of what it is in the USA. Which explains why everyone drives such tiny cars here...and why everyone walks when they can...and why Vespas are so popular. Teenagers don’t drive cars here, they drive Vespas...and boy are they dangerous...
Who would have guessed that it would cost about $500 for me to get my driver’s license here in Spain? That’s not the worst part, the worst is that I have to learn how to drive stick shift amidst all those darn Vespas. I feel like pied piper with all those rats around me. They take the pedestrian crossings here seriously. If someone is waiting to cross in the ped walk, you stop. New Jersey is a great state...beaches (although they don’t compare to the ones here), casinos and those lovely circles and jug handles. I really hated those circles and jug handles...I figured once I got to Spain, I wouldn’t see them again. Silly me. Learning to drive stick shift and making my way around those circles without cutting off those annoying Vespas or running down the “marujas” with their baby strollers will be the death of me yet (or them..).
Speaking of the “marujas” (housewives) with their babies, I am continually amazed at the preference that dogs are given here. They are treated like babies too. The dog of choice here is anything small and yappy. UGH...for those of you who know me well... ha ha ha.. These dogs are everywhere, in the drug stores, the drycleaners, the grocery store, on their owners´ laps on the park benches, in those tiny elevators...wherever its owner is, the dog is. No kidding, I have seen dogs here smaller than the cat that my parents own. What I find truly amusing are the “sandboxes” on every block. Heaven forbid one of those marujas lets her kids play in the sandbox. Think public litter boxes for dogs. Honest to God. There is even a sign posted above them sporting a picture of a dog with droplets coming from you know where. I walked past one the other day that actually had a fence around it with a gate. I guess, to offer the dog more privacy as it does its thing. Who would’ve guessed. However, damned be you if you should find toilet paper in the public restrooms...
I have sent out over 200 resumes via regular mail, online postings, through professional and personal contacts. It is standard practice (expected) that the resume/CV is accompanied with my picture (headshot) and a lot of personal information such as date of birth, marital status, age…etc. Amazing. It’s a question of waiting now…...and sending more out tomorrow, and the next day and the next. So far those efforts have scored me interviews with three different companies.
The first one that I interviewed with was for selling long distance telephone service. I milked it for all that it was worth...not because I was interested in the job, but because I wanted to get a sense of how it all works (business) here in Spain. When I was here 14 years ago, I was only concerned with meeting up with my friends, drinking coffee --or substitute any alcoholic beverage -- playing pool and seeing how many people we could fit onto a Vespa. Now it’s time for me to be serious. I scored a second interview with the company...but the guy stood me up! ¡Qué morro! (What nerve).
The second company that I interviewed with was a Spanish affiliate of a major American insurance firm. The first interview was kind of suspect...held at a hotel bar (smacked of Amway or other multi-level marketing scam)...so DH drove me and scoped out the territory from a safe distance in another part of the bar. One by one, the job aspirants were shown to a room where two different tables were set up for two different interviewers. The first guy was nice enough...asked me run of the mill text book human resources questions. He then directed me to the second guy who continued with the same line of questioning. What killed me was when he asked me if my husband knew that I was there for the interview. Ha ha ha ha!!! Machismo has not died! I did not tell him DH told me that I was given the “sex check”...when I was ushered into the room, both the interviewers checked me out head to toe from the bar (unbeknownst to me). After the first interviewer was done with me, he apparently had a conversation at the bar with the second interviewer who asked something along the lines of “is she cute?” (all this according to what DH overheard).
I am a candidate for a major fundraising position at an international non-profit. The first interview was a matter of listening to the regional president do all the talking. The second interview was with 5 presidents of the local chapters. It was more like a conversation in a bar than anything else. “Where are you from?” “You don’t look American, are you Puerto Rican?” (last time I checked, Puerto Ricans were also Americans) “Are you married?” “Do you have any kids?” (no, I have a husband and that’s enough for now). “Are you going to have any kids in the near future?” (I don’t know, are your birth control pills effective here?). What a job interview. No questions about how much money I have managed, no requests for references, special campaigns, etc. The youngest guy asked me three semi relevant questions...have I ever managed volunteers? Have I ever worked with politicians? Do I plan to live in Valencia (do you mean forever??). That was it. I had to pinch myself...then later repeat practically verbatim the interview for DH asking him if it were a real interview...he said that that´s how they go here. What´s written on the CV is believed.
Anyway, I am constantly surprised at the “laid back” and trusting attitude that everyone has here, and frankly, find it a welcome change from the rat race that was my life...even if the interviews don´t really seem to be interviews!
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