An encounter with bureaucracy (La Corunha, Spain)

A lot of people seem eager to help me learn everything there is to know about fishing . . . but not everyone. I hadn’t yet received my permission e-mail from Port Authority Representative Luis by 10:00, when I wanted to leave the hostel to meet with Guillermo, my fisherman friend from yesterday, so I snuck into the port again. I walked past the storage garages and trucks and port police officers trying to look, at turns, extremely confident (“I belong here and I know exactly where I am headed and don’t you dare question me”) and inconspicuous (“You can’t see me”), but, alas! I gave myself away. I walked into the lonja building, where the same guard who was there yesterday didn’t smile at me, like she didn’t smile at me yesterday. And when I asked how to get to the waterfront, she didn’t answer but instead said, “You don’t have permission to be here.” Damn! I asked where I could get permission, and she sent me to the upstairs office. The people in the upstairs office said that they only had jurisdiction over the building itself, and not the waterfront outside of the building (that would be the Port Authority, and I have assumed permission from them), so I happily walked around the building to the place where Guillermo and his wife Mirela were selling their fish.

Guillermo greeted me like an old friend, and introduced me to Mirela as “the girl I was telling you about who is doing the study!” Some of the men from yesterday were there again, and they talked with me when Guillermo and Mirela were busy. When they weren’t busy, they told me that I had to come some day at 6:00 in the morning to see the big fish sales – the 11:00 business was small beans, the leftovers. Oh ignorant am I! I continue to underestimate the scale of things. The only problem was that the sales take place inside the building – and, as I had been told by the security guard, I was unauthorized to be there.

We considered several ways of sneaking me in (I could be Guillermo’s sister, another officer’s girlfriend . . .), but in the end the officer said I had better get permission from the second floor office. I went up again. I needed to submit an official petition in paper. I asked for paper. Then I went back down to the dock and composed the official petition standing up and surrounded by dead fish, Guillermo correcting the parts that didn’t sound formal enough (the end of it was “sin otro particular, les saluda atentamente” – I would have said something less inspired like “gracias”). He, my official escort, signed it, and I took it back to the office, where I also photocopied my passport (I was carrying it by chance!) and the nice-sounding Watson letter (also a coinkidink!). By this time the security guard was ready to strangle me – I had gone up and down the stairs enough times to try her security guarding patience – but I ended up being even more of pest, because I loitered in the building for two more hours until the head honcho had time to look at my papers and sign off on my request. I suspect that this usually takes more time, but I said to the intermediary, “Oh, but I am a visitor, difficult to reach and leaving so soon! Perhaps I should just wait here . . .” in many more words. I can go to the fish sales tomorrow, Tuesday, and Wednesday – excellent.

Elated, I rushed back to the hostel to move my things to Alfonso’s apartment a few blocks away, where I’ll be staying for the next two nights. We got in touch through CouchSurfing, and he is . . . (can you guess?) extremely friendly!! He works in the film industry, doing sound and directing, and his short film has been shown in about a hundred festivals around the world! I have yet to watch it; I am full of eager anticipation. Oh BOY. We had lunch and talked (among other things, he told me that the beginning of my last post was inaccurate, because Galicia is not the same as Spain -- i.e. I shouldn't generalize so much), and then I set off again to buy a map of Galicia and sit on the green hills with big stones next to the sea. The wind was blowing so hard that even standing high above the waves I could feel their spray, and when I licked my lips I tasted salt. My scarf tried to smother me several times, but I fought back valiantly. I sat on a bench and watched fishing boats coming back to port (I am so confused about their schedules; must ask Guillermo), the clouds, the sun, the seagulls (that’s how I knew which ones were fishing boats – there are swarms of seagulls around them). I read. (“In Search of Time,” “Watchers of the Sky,” and “Peter Pan.” My Kindle is a gift from heaven.) (Noooo, silly, it is a gift from my mom.) On my way back to Alfonso’s apartment I had hot chocolate with churros, and I’m sure that my blood is sludgy already but oh it was worth it. Life is wonderful! And I’m waking up at 5:15 in the morning tomorrow!