Working hard for the money

Since Barcelona isn't a cheap town-- especially for those of us from the States (the dollar-euro conversion rate has gone from $1.47 to $1.51 to $1.54 in the past two weeks)--, my roommate Alex and I have been trying to find a means of earning some cash to make up for the dents we're putting in our wallets. Unfortunately, this has proven to be no simple task, as we lack the European identity cards that all citizens/tax-payers of the Euro-zone are required to possess. Basically this means that unless you have connections, no "papers" means no (legitimate) work. All that is left is a mixture of odd jobs here and there, which is why you see a lot of recent immigrants looking toward alternative means to make a living (Pakistanis and other Desis sell beer or samosas on the street, West African women work as prostitutes, etc.).

That being said, our options were limited to some sort of unskilled labor that didn't require mastery of Castillano or Catalan. This meant we'd have to do something that either didn't require us to speak (the only issue that arises with this scenario is that you have to at least be able to communicate with your employers), or requires that we speak in English. Thankfully, since Barcelona is always chock-full of visiting foreigners (tourists, as well as tons of kids studying abroad), it's not impossible to find the latter type of job, as there is a fairly large market for anything that caters to this English-friendly crowd.

Barcelona is known throughout Europe for its nightlife, and since people often come here just to party (i.e. 90% of the kids who study abroad here), one of the easiest odd jobs to work is to do promotions for a bar or club by handing out flyers to younger (18-30 year-old) pedestrians on Las Ramblas and other high-traffic areas.

So how does one go about getting one of these jobs? Well, the best way to describe it is like the situation of "Day Laborers" in the US, except we find the work, as opposed to work finding us. In our case, we simply inquired at a few of the bars we frequent to watch soccer matches. Incidentally, Alex befriended one of the promoters for one of these places, a bar geared toward foreign travelers (aptly named "Travel Bar"), who was able to offer some insight on the matter.

So last night Alex and I, with nothing better to do, walk into Travel Bar, and Alex asks one of the waitresses if they need anybody to hand out flyers. Next thing you know, the bartender pulls out two thick stacks of cards and tells us that he'll give us five euro to hand them out for the next 45 minutes, and that we'll get 30 cents for each referral that actually comes in. Five minutes later we're standing in the middle of Las Ramblas amongst the beer/samosa-selling Pakistanis and African prostitutes trying to get the attention of younger-looking passer-bys and approaching groups, shouting "Free shots at Travel Bar", or asking "You guys looking for a bar?", and "Who wants to drink tonight?".

It wasn't long before I realized that I wasn't really any different from the Beer-selling Pakistanis that surrounded me. Though I wasn't actually selling anything, I was profiting off of getting others to drink (the promotion was a free shot with purchase of an alcoholic drink), which I didn't feel too great about. Granted, Travel Bar has plenty of food options as well, but this wasn't one of the points I was advertising. Let's just say I don't see myself doing this again anytime in the future.

While I'm certainly not proud of what I did, I can't say that I didn't enjoy doing it. As strange as this may sound, I felt as though I was actually a part of the city, as opposed to just a temporary inhabitant. There I was, in some respect a physical aspect of Las Ramblas (Bar/club promoters, along with the aforementioned Desis and prostitutes, are a staple after dark), one of the most famous sites in all of Barcelona. On top of that, I got to interact with people from all over (Americans, Eastern Europeans, people from the UK, other working folk, and even locals); not just calling at them, but I even had a conversation or two. It was a side of Barcelona that very few people in my shoes can say they've experienced, and for once I didn't feel like I was the one who was the tourist.

Though I don't plan on repeating it, all in all, it was definitely a memorable experience.

That's it for now...

Hasta Luego!


(Side note: As for the conversations I had with some of those whom I approached, they were mostly similar in nature. Though I suppose it was somewhat expected given that they seem to be more knowledgeable when it comes to current events and international affairs, I've found that it's very common for Europeans to start talking politics once they find out you're from the States, especially when they find out that I'm from DC. It generally follows the below format:

Local: "¿De donde eres?" ("Where are you from?")
Me: "Pues...Mis padres son de Pakistan, pero vivo en Estados Unidos" ("Well...My parents are from Pakistan, but I live in the US")
Local: "Ah. ¿Donde vives en los Estados Unidos? ("Oh. Where do you live in the US?)
Me: Washington, DC
Local: "Ahhhhh. ¿Con Bush? ¿Condoleza Rice?...¿Hilary o Obama?" ("Ohhh. With Bush? Condoleza Rice?...[Whom do you prefer,] Hilary or Obama?")