Wait, What???

I stepped out of the hospital and burst into tears. How could this be happening? Fear coursed through me as the hot tears streaked my face and blurred my sight. The sun was out, but there was a crisp chill in the air. Sitges, Spain's winter is cheeky, one day you are in a thick coat and scarf, the next day you are in shorts on the beach. It keeps you in a constant state of confusion, never knowing what the next day will bring and I thought of this parallel as I walked home. 

"What happened?" my daughter's concern was worn on her face, her eyes wide and mouth agape. I couldn't speak, my chin quivered everytime I tried. My husband asked "Did you get it???" I shook my head no and slumped heavy into the chair.

"I have to go back to the Padro." My words hung in the air like a storm brewing. 

"Noooooooooooooooooo!" my family said in unison as they gathered around me. 

Why would I need to go back to the scariest place on earth and face La Reina again? What did this have to do with the hospital? It is because Spain's paperwork is NEVER over and very well might be the death of me. You see, after hiring a new type of professional to assist with getting us through this, this time for my social security set up, he said I should go to the hospital to register for my health card. He acted like it was so simple, show up with your city registration and passport, they will help you get a health plan and card. No, it is not that simple, at least for me it isn't.

I walked into the hospital hopeful and nervous. I am always nervous when I have to do something important using my deplorable spanish skills. Evidently Spain is having a flu outbreak, so they asked everyone to wear masks, shit. I'm all for masks, but not when I am trying to speak to someone in spanish and also understand what they are saying while not being able to see most of their face. Have you ever noticed how much you rely on seeing people's faces when they speak? I could tell this was going to be difficult. I sat at a woman's desk in the open reception area and handed her my paperwork while simultaneously asking for assistance getting my health card. She spoke fast and at a low volume, a deadly combo in any circumstance. I asked if she spoke english, she shook her head no as she took my papers. Scanning them she saw something wrong and quickly rattled off an explanation. I caught that there was a problem, that I could not get the health card set up until the problem was fixed, and I caught the word 'Padron'. My face froze and I stared at her with my eyes huge in alarm. I could tell she figured I missed the entire thing so she pulled up google translate and started typing then spun her monitor my way. I had gotten it right, there was a problem with my registration, it was tied to my passport instead of my official Spain NIE number. Then I read the fateful words "el Padron". She asked if I understood, then repeated over and over that I had to go to the Padron. It was like a nightmare, I just wanted her to stop saying the word! I stood up and awkwardly stumbled back from her desk shaking my head yes and saying that I understood. She sweetly said that she would help me once I did that AND activated my social security number. Wait what??? I had to get out of there fast, no time to ask questions, I was about to lose it.

That is when I stepped out of the hospital and burst into tears. Just the word Padron conjured up the sound of La Reina's nails aggressively hitting the counter as she barked at me. Shivers ran down my spine. I clearly have PTSD from that lady. 

Here is a breakdown of how this works. First you get a Visa (ha! That makes it sound easy, but it is 4 months of paperwork hell), then when you get to Spain you need to get a residency number and card, this is called an NIE. In order to get that card you need to register with the city you will be living in (the Padron in Sitges). Then you take that registration paper to the police and they fingerprint you and assign your official government number. It is a pretty big deal...and a pretty big hassle. What I did not know was that once you get that special card you have to take it back to the Padron to change the registration from your passport number to your NIE. And that is where we were as I left the hospital. 

Jesse asked if we should all go together since we all had cards and none of us had updated our registration. I think he thought that would make me feel better. It did not. I went to lay down and cry some more. He doesn't get it, it has been so easy for him having come over after us and me having done all the paperwork and found the easiest way to do it for him. The next morning he urged me "to just go get it done." I couldn't, I had to mentally prepare.

A week later I was still not mentally prepared, but the 3 of us stood in front of the Padron office door. I started praying "please God, please don't let it be her. Please, please, please...". I crossed my fingers with child like hope and reach for the door handle. I stepped inside and locked eyes with her, La Reina. It is true, I have bad luck just like my landlord and lawyer had said when I had first met La Reina. Also, maybe God doesn't listen to atheists? 

Those familiar beads of sweat popped up on my forehead and I turned around fast. I started thinking maybe I don't need health care, maybe I can just leave my passport on the registration and never finish the process. I wanted to bolt for the door, but my unconcerned, selfish family were blocking the exit like big jerks. I whispered to them in panic "it's her!!!". When Jesse had registered, he happen to get a very kind older woman working the desk, so this was his first meeting of La Reina. He peeked over my shoulder and pushed me toward a chair. I could feel the blood draining from my face and I felt nauseous. Our daughter casually sat next to me with her sunglasses on and reading something on her phone. She leaned into my arm and nonchalantly said "ya, she is still scary as shit", then sat back in her chair and continued reading. Jesse grabbed my hand and peppered me with questions:

What are we asking for exactly? Do you have all the paperwork and IDs? Do we have to wait for an agent? Are we going to wait if she says it is going to be awhile before we are seen? What is this for again?

If he was trying to distract me, it worked. I was now very annoyed. Evidently the 30 times I'd talked to him about this didn't stick.

The buzzer rang out, it was my number, here we go. Jesse, being a fluent spanish speaker took the lead explaining that we needed to do something with the number on our forms. I wondered how I could be annoyed and terrified at the same time. I had to get involved to further explain that the passport number needed to be changed for our NIE. She gazed at us with steel, emotionless, blue eyes and didn't say a word. We silently stared back... and I might have peed a little. She took the papers and asked to see the NIE cards. She sat down and did something on her computer, looked at the paperwork again and then said my entire name slowly MICHELE ALEXANDRA PADBERG, no one else's, just mine, as she swivelled her chair side to side. Now I can't be certain, but I think she might have been trying to come up with some horrible obstacle she could throw in my way. She suddenly stood up and spoke at double time tempo handing the cards and paperwork back while waving us dismissively away. We backed up slightly and then Jesse asked her to repeat what she said, his confidence shaken. She didn't look at us, but told us to go to the machine across the room giving a pause between each word giving us the clear message that we were a) annoying b) stupid or c) losers, but it was probably d) all of the above. 

The machine was an easy to use guided system to updating your residency info. All of this trauma, drama, and attitude when we could have done it by ourselves? I was speechless, but also relieved to be done and leaving. I called it a win. 

Now back to the other thing the woman at the hospital said... I need to "activate" my social security number? How the hell do you do that???

**** It is true that the paperwork, taxes, short term rentals and no money is blowing my mind, but I wouldn't change it for the world. Spain has given my family a new lease on life. A life that is a little slower; we embrace sleeping in, sietas, and staying up late. A life that feels incredibly supportive no matter who you are, and a life that allows us to gaze at the ocean and sit in the charming streets with a glass of vermouth in hand and feel deeply grateful. As the year comes to an end and we are alone in Spain at the holidays, it is easy to get a little homesick. There is so much that we love that we left behind. The pain can sting if you linger on it for more than a moment, but Spain has a magic that is infectious and has embraced us completely. From my family to yours, we send so much love and wish you a the kind of happiness we have found.

 Happy Holidays!