Mexico, cycling Britain, then Barcelona

day 10

By 1pm I had heard nothing about the great English teaching job and I took the plunge and went flyering. To me, this is the lowest of the low in the job world. I imagined standing in the street desperately hassling people to go to whichever shit nightclub I happened to be advertising. And I was pretty much spot on, except in the day time we were expected to have actual conversations with people about the great the mix of R&B and hip hop we provided, then put their names on the guest list.  As far as payment goes, you get 1.5 euros for everybody with their name on the guest list who actually goes, and 1 euro for every flyer with your name on it that is taken on the door. Did I mention that I spent a large proportion of my day writing my name on flyers? I also spent a large proportion of the time I was supposed to be working sitting on a terrace drinking wine.  Depending on the money.. and I will have to wait until next Wednesday to get paid.. if you work in short bursts, with long breaks, it is not such a bad job. I am offering people a chance to go to a club for free, but if they have something better to do with their evening, I am very understanding.

Half way through my evening I got a call which ruined it completely. Miguel left me an answer phone message to casually inform me that the room is not available after all. That is seriously bad news. I am going to visit friends in France the day after tomorrow. I have no time to look at flats before I go, which means I will come back with nowhere to live. Just for completeness I found the first internet cafe I could to see if I was still unemployed, as well as homeless. The message was “we would like to work with you in the near future, call me on Tuesday”. What does that mean? Well at least it’s not a “no”.

day 9

Today started badly on the job front. I had no interviews, appointments or even jobs to apply for. I spent the morning fairly uselessly on the internet before meeting a friend for lunch followed by a free tour around some of the interesting architecture on Passeig de Gracia. Unfortunately we didn’t go inside any of the three buildings, but I’m sure the Spanish practice was good for me and I learnt some themes of modernist architecture. Obviously we took in a Gaudi building, Casa Batllo. We discussed the exterior features for a few minutes, the curves and mosaic style are worth looking at closely, and we were told the building represents the story of George and the dragon. If you use your imagination the tower looks like a sword being thrust into a dragons tail, the bone like columns are ribs, and the rose represents flowers which grew from the dragons blood.

At the Spanish college where we finished he course I was drawn in by adverts for various jobs. I actually telephoned two telesales jobs, but doubt I will ever send my CV to their email addresses. I also sank as low as phoning up about flyering on Las Ramblas, I can go for a trial tomorrow if i want. And the best opportunity was a guy called Trevor who offered 12 euros an hour for people to appear in English Language teaching DVD’s. He came down for an interview there and then, it was all sounding hopeful until he took one look at me and said I was too old. At least he put me on the list.

This evening I met Gonzalo, the newest addition to my flat, and we chatted in the lounge about important issues such as how much the boys smoke, and whether I watch Lost. (I don’t). The room should be available next Wednesday (thank goodness as I don’t have anywhere else to stay).

day 8

As usual I woke up to an almost pitch black room. The tiny crack of light from behind the curtain should tell me whether is it day or night, but, in fact is coming from an interior window. We don’t have interior windows in British houses, but here in Barcelona they seem to love them. This one looks out into the square space enclosing the lift shaft, and since the light is on all night and no natural light reaches my room at al, I am left to guess whether it is morning yet. I hate that disorientation. I heard the lift moving and decided it was worth leaning across to check my watch. Imagine my surprise when i realised it was 10:30am.

Luckily the only appointment i have today, on my quest to find a job and a flat, is at an International School at 3pm. This is the same school that offered me a permanent job back in April but then kindly retracted it. I feel they owe me.

Unfortunately, the sweltering walk to the school landed me with nothing except a very sore little toe. The principal at the school couldn’t have friendlier, but she didn’t actually have any work for me. I left my contact details in case any tutoring is ever needed, and then had the brilliant idea to put out a classified advert in English. How many people in Barcelona might be looking on the internet for and English speaking maths tutor? 30? 7? 1??

I somehow managed to get double booked this evening, which is pretty impressive since I only know three people in the whole city. My new flat mate Miguel did not sound too happy when I turned down his invite in favour of meeting an English contact. A friend’s friend’s brother has invited me round for drinks. He is clearly a very busy man and I nearly missed my window when, thanks to the confusing metro map, the train today took three times as long as expected. I had time for a slightly hectic chat with him and his girlfriend. They were getting ready to go out for dinner and tag teamed me to ask questions and get all the polite chat finished. The girlfriend works for the company which are now my only hope for a job. I had the interview yesterday and am still waiting to hear from them. According to her I will get paid (I’ve heard horror stories about people who don’t), I won’t have to work too hard, and I can watch Fawlty Towers and call it an English lesson.

day 7

http://www.gurneysjourneys.com/barthelona.htm

My main problem today is that I have an important job interview in a few hours, and no handbag. It doesn’t sound like such a dilemma, but it is so sweaty in Barcelona that I can’t wear a jacket, and I have no pockets. Even though I have the whole morning stretching out in front of me I manage to leave the bag shopping trip until the last second and end up with a bright orange woven item from Oxfam. At least it was very cheap. In my rush I find that by the time I board the train to the offices of the English school, I have a list of things to get done on the journey; eat breakfast, brush hair, file nails, and safety pin the strap of the bag in an attempt to create a more sophisticated style. The train journey  surprised me by lasting a mere 6 minutes -  the scale on metro map remains a bit of a mystery to me.

Eating in public is not the done thing in Spain. Food and mealtimes hold more importance here than in England. It’s ridiculous really, you can stand in a crowded tapas bar eating out of a napkin whilst trying to balance a drink in the crook of your elbow, but people look at you disapprovingly when you eat a crumbly croissant on the train.

The interview went pretty well. I managed to keep all the orange parts of my outfit hidden under the table, and I genuinely think I can do the job. The waiting game continues; this time I will get a definite yes or no in three days.

I spoke to Miguel to confirm that I definitely want to rent the room, and then found myself in a kebab restaurant drinking red wine, giggling with my best friend (who is here doing a Spanish course) about drunken summers and reminiscing our teenage flings. It was so much more acceptable to chop and change among your group of friends at that age, the easiest way to play the game is remembering which ones you didn’t go out with.

day 6

http://www.gurneysjourneys.com/barthelona.htm

The English teaching job I had an interview for pays 1050 euros a month, and apparently that is a normal wage. I can’t believe it would be possible to live on so little money. I came to Barcelona partly because the cost of living is so much cheaper than England, but I am stunned by how low the wages are. The “thousand club” is a phrase used to describe a massive chunk of the population who have completed their studies at higher education colleges, in a respectable profession, and then end up on a wage of 1000 a month. These are well qualified workers, which explains why most locals don’t entertain, even for a second, the idea of buying property.

Overall then, 1050 is pretty decent going for someone who’s qualification involves a one month TEFL course. Did I mention, by the way, that I have not done a TEFL and I have no experience teaching English? I’m not sure quite what position that puts me in job wise, I guess the fact that I heard nothing back from my only job interview so far suggests a pretty bad one. This week I am pinning all my hopes on a job teaching English in companies. The interview is tomorrow, I’m more nervous than last time, and I don’t have a handbag.

On the flat hunting side things are going rather better - I found a room! It’s always the same with looking for a place to live, you spend ages weighing up the pros and cons of places you have seen, but when the right one comes along that’s it. You know it’s a good’un, you call off the search, cancel all future appointments, and take yourself out for a celebratory dinner you really really can’t afford. Miguel is renting two rooms in the flat, which has (in order of importance), a table and chairs out on the terrace, comfy sofas, space in my room for a double bed and a functioning kitchen and bathroom. He is a genuine Catalonian, but because the other member of the flat is South American, they speak Spanish. I can tell he is going to be the perfect person to show me around - oh and he is an English teacher, which may be extremely helpful for me in my new profession.