The Police: Can't Stand Losing You

Remember those residency cards we worked so hard to obtain? (Click here for an intro.)

Well, I lost my card somewhere at Feria Wednesday night.

I've got a trip to the States planned for November. There's no time to get a new card before I leave. So in addition to that process, I would also have to get a document to allow me back into the country.

DUDO DECIDED TO SEARCH THE HOUSE FOR MY CARD. SUCH A HELPER.
(CLICK ON THE PHOTOS TO WIDEN THE SEARCH.)

Yesterday after morning coffee, I walked over to the National Police station to find out what I needed to do to replace my card. The nasty Englishman (click here if you don't know him) was of course at the desk. He wasn't as nasty as usual, but he told me he didn't know what to do. "Come back tomorrow," he said (kind of like Dorothy's first audience with "The Wizard of Oz"). However, he added that there would be someone there who could help me. And, since I have no interest in getting back to Kansas, I decided to obey.

LOOKING HIGH AND LOW.

So, this morning I began the walk back to the National Police station. I didn't have the energy to make a stop at the fairgrounds yesterday. But, I thought I should tough it out today just in case the card was found (amid all the trash and horse poop) and turned in.

DUDO EVEN CHECKED THE TERRACE...

... AND THE SKY(?)

There was a police car outside the fairgrounds watching over things. I explained that I had lost my card and asked if there was an office on the grounds. I was told that if anything is found, it's brought to the Local Police station. That station is directly on the way to the National Police, so I figured I'd stop by  — having no expectation of success.

THEN HE OFFERED TO LOOK NEXT DOOR (IF I'D ONLY MOVE THAT STUFF OUT OF THE WAY).
(NICE TRY.  I THANKED HIM AND SENT HIM BACK INSIDE.)

At the Local Police station, I was treated very kindly. No nasty Englishmen ... or mad dogs. The cop looked up my name and didn't find anything. But, he asked for my phone number and said they'd call if my card turned up.

POLICIA LOCAL, FUENGIROLA.

I walked out the door and hadn't gone more than another block when my phone rang. It was the Local Police. He had found my card! On my return, he apologized profusely saying his colleague had mistakenly entered it under my middle name. I told him I should have thought to ask because that's a very common error. Most Spaniards have two last names. So, our middle names are often mistaken for our last names.

So, my residency card is found. (I couldn't stand the thought of losing it.) And... The Police are our friends.




P.S.:  I got my lab results and saw the specialist again this afternoon. I have a bacterial infection. It's getting better. No more antibiotics. Nothing to worry about. Still not feeling great but I soon will (according to the doctor).