Niamh Lynch is just starting her second job in Madrid. Wake-up time Well, you should all consider yourself very lucky. You almost had to sit through another week where my blog spoke of nothing more interesting than a detailed description of my recent visitors’ souvenir shopping expeditions. Almost but not quite, because yesterday I started my new job.
Although the 6am wake-up time was a bit of a rude awakening, quite literally, I was bright-eyed enough by the time I got in. It’s a longer commute than the previous job (which you may remember was a measly five minutes by metro), but is in no way bad, clocking in at 30 minutes - a 10-minute walk and 20-minute metro ride. Ironically, it takes only about 40 minutes to walk, and I am planning to walk home in the afternoons, at least until the soaring temperatures have me running underground. A day, summarisedMy boss and I get in an hour earlier than everyone else - at 8am to summarise and translate every mention our clients get in the Spanish press. Summarising is actually quite tricky, and since it all has to be done before 9am, there is not much early-morning chat. The rest of the day seems to be made up of more regular translations and revisions for the Spanish staff writing in English. Everybody seems very nice, and they have all gone to great lengths to both spell and pronounce my name correctly, which means they all instantly rose about 20 points in my estimation! Already things are looking better than the old job - I have been constantly busy from the moment I arrived, have a chair suitable for typing (which may sound trivial, but when your entire job consists of typing, wrist and arm problems can pop up really quickly, totally banjaxing your productivity) and…wait for it……my own office email address - yay! I might just be on the way to becoming a respected member of staff. I’ll let you know. I go home at 2pm, which is a working day I am really looking forward to. It is still a six-hour shift, which isn’t quite part time, but getting out at 2 means that you practically have another working day when you get home, especially here in Spain. The general plan is to do freelance translation a few afternoons a week and otherwise get seriously into writing and make the most of the summer in Madrid. Incompetent Service ProviderThis plan for part-ish time idyll, however, was totally interrupted last week with the disappearance of my internet. I have to admit, I was completely aware that I was addicted, but didn't even stop to think about the terrible consequences if my supply was cut off. It makes my life really hard, considering that all my freelancing and writing is done over the internet, even for clients based in Madrid. Even this blog involved two trips to an internet café, a borrowed memory stick and an international phone call. It felt more like international espionage than a few hundred measly words. I have been trying without success to get it fixed - first they told me it was a problem in Madrid and Toledo, and that I would have to wait. They assured me that it was this main problem that was affecting me and that it was not something wrong with my personal connection. I rang again when it still hadn’t appeared after four days, and found that they had simply shut down their phone lines. I went away for the weekend, and rang when I got back. The conversation went a little like this: Them: hmm, this seems to be because your phone is old. Me: My phone? Old? What’s that got to do with anything? It’s been working fine for five months, why is it a problem now? Them: hmm, this seems to be because your phone is old. Me: Then why did your colleague tell me it was because your network was experiencing ‘major technical problems’? Them: hmm, this seems to be because your phone is old. Me: Don’t you think it is a bit of a coincidence that it stopped working when your network melted down? Them: hmm, this seems to be because your phone is old. Me: I appreciate that some cultural differences may be at play here, but I am becoming frustrated with your improbable and repetitious response. Actually, I expressed the last one more along the lines of things that are normally replaced by bleeps in polite society, but you get the picture….the battle continues. Until then, I'll just be a 100% part-time person. It’s a hard life. Real-life storyFor those of you who secretly sneak a peak at the ‘real-life stories’ magazines when you are at the dentist, I’ll give you a quick update on the trials of long-distance relationships. For those of you that have forgotten (how could you?!), I still have a boyfriend back in Ireland, and have now been away for seven months. It was surprisingly easy for the first four months, and then got steadily harder. I kept seeing interviews and articles about people in the same situation. They all said how they tried not to let more than a month pass without seeing each other, which is all very well if you are a) loaded and b) prepared not to think of your life in the other country as your ‘real’ life. They were also the kinds of couples who sent small, scented teddy bears in the post, rang each other every night and had problems ending the conversations because the elaborate dance of the ‘No, I love you more' kept getting in the way. We're not that kind of couple, so we have seen each other once every 10 weeks or so, and ring once a week. Admittedly, sometimes that has been quite hard, but so far so good, and plans for the future (we’re at least trying for the same country next time) are still in place. Now, off to the internet café to actually get this blog from my laptop to your screens…. Share your comments about Niamh's blog Read Niamh's previous job logs | 
