Thursday, 30 September 2010

Where was I?

Oh yeah. Quest for new passport. I am still no closer :D

Bit of a shit few days for many reasons. Two lumps on the head and a strained thumb for free from Policia Local also. Nice of them. Too much sadness around ATM.

New boots have become a priority. Then, Madrid to simply ask WTF I am supposed to do?

Onwards and upwards!

Wednesday, 22 September 2010

Too Many Dead Ends.

Fuck! I hate this shit. How many weeks later?

I am getting there very slowly. I've given up trying to use the seamlessly integrated digital payment system on the internet for ordering a new birth certificate, so I'm back to a search for my original. I think it might be under the utilities tray of the top drawer of my big, posh, curvey office desk which has been 'in storage' for the past 4 years. A trip into the hills to rediscover my furniture and just for the sake of taking a break. I am seriously losing the plot in frustration.

I need (just to remind myself what I have to do next)...

Birth certificate
Signed passport photo's
About another €300 to cover costs

Then get to Madrid.

Apply for new passport.
Wait about 2 weeks.
Apply for residencia thingy.
Open bank account.
Wait about 2 weeks.

Find appartment, or just a room for a year.
Move everything from current storage locations to new appartment/room.

Then, I can finally move forwards.

Lots of expense. Lots of time. It's fucking shit.

Deep sigh. If my birth certificate is where I think it is, I'm expecting to be on the move again in about 2 months. If it isn't??? Fuck knows where I go from there :(

I hate this shit. I am very close to superglueing every ATM and bank door lock in Spain. That'll fucking teach them!

I just want MY FUCKING MONEY BACK you cunts.

Thursday, 9 September 2010

Less sighing :)

OK. Things are progressing much more quickly than I expected. All I have to do is get myself to Madrid with my police report, application forms, photos, €160 and my birth certificate.

Birth certificate!


I think I know where I left that...

This could all happen within 3 weeks.

Tuesday, 7 September 2010

Sigh. I am sinking.

I hate this stuff. It's just depressing.

I need a new passport. I need a new passport to travel and to open a bank account to reclaim MY FUCKING MONEY!

I am faced with a huge mountain of form filling, queueing, beuracratic shit, and the very thought is depressing me. I tried to start today. Go to the police station to report the stolen passport. I'm given an expensive telephone number to call. "But, can't I just make the report here now?". Here is an expensive telephone number to call.

I think I've given up already. Difficult to explain why I am so shit at all this stuff. It just depresses me. Seriously depresses me.

I am stuck. I don't know what to do next. Call the expensive telephone number to be told to go back to the police station and make a report?

Back to sketching on the street waiting for a miracle. Useless me - I know. I just don't know why I can't deal with this???

Saturday, 4 September 2010

Reasons to Love Granada, Reasons to Love Life...

Granada. I'm 'stuck' here again. According to the bits of paper that arrived in the post I am actually quite wealthy. In reality, I'm surviving day to day selling sketches in the street. That is both frustrating and liberating.

Why I love Granada...

Last night I couldn't find much going on and sat on a bench in a small plaza drinking, smoking, watching the World go by. Happy in my own company. Texting bad jokes to people who probably didn't appreciate it. Not bored, or lonely - just content. Then Two people who barely know me invited me back to their house. This happens in Granada, and Andalucia as a whole. Summer culture is all about living outdoors. People talk. People leave their front doors open. Always an open invitation to join any congregation, or anyone alone.

Talking with my hosts about universal stuff. Sharing the joy young parents get from watching their children learn. Eating, drinking, laughing a common laugh. All good. But, what is better is talking more deeply. Learning what essentially makes their own culture, their own life and way of thinking different to your own. Talking about what is actually happening on the streets as opposed to what is happening on the TV. Talking about the issues that are actually affecting Gitano culture.

It was a very nice evening. And, this morning I met someone who I first met in Sitges about 18 months ago. Apparently I inspired him to continue travelling around Spain and Europe. After talking today I think he got pretty much the same sort of value from this way of living as myself.

Despite being skint, and frustrated that I should actually have enough in my pocket to go and buy a menu del dia, I wonder if I wasn't so skint how much I would miss out on?

I will often tell people "it's all relative". Perhaps it is, perhaps money makes very little difference. On the other hand; I have to get to Seville, then back to Granada, then back into 'the system' to reclaim my cash. I am shit at this stuff. Totally shit. I need a manager. All applications here please. Now!

Friday, 3 September 2010

Catch 22

Before I start moaning about banks I have to admit this is actually my problem cuased by nobody else but me. I also have to say Legal & General have restored a bit of faith!


Aaaargh! I just want my fucking cash!

Complicated business getting your own fucking cash back. This is going to take weeks and has to start with a trip to Seville. Short, and boring story. So, Seville - here I come. I suspect I am on a hopeless mission :(

I did not enjoy Seville on my last visit.