Foto: Christian Schallert

PAS DE DEUX + 1

Can we go home now, Mummy?

by Adela Lawson

Back in the heady days of 1999-2005, when Spanish banks were swimming in money, getting a mortgage became about as easy as asking for candy at the Neverland Ranch. No longer did you have to have scrimped and saved for a down payment; no longer did you need good credit, or a fat income. It was like all the 1€ slots players in a casino were asked whether they’d like to join the high-stakes poker table, with an advance of a couple hundred grand. Not surprisingly, lots of people signed up.

For those who got in early and knew when to walk away, the gamble paid off. Those who could afford to lose some money were left relatively unscathed. But many who’d been playing the Euro slots because they couldn’t afford anything else, or those who were too greedy to leave the table when they were ahead, or who got into the game too late, now find themselves, in 2009, in extremely bad situations. If they’re not about to default on their loans and lose their houses, they’re at least paying far more per month than they planned to. And people are losing their jobs left and right. Meanwhile, the banks are asking for government (read: taxpayer) bailouts, and the government is doing next to nothing to address the disaster that is thousands of families hanging on by a thread.

But the aim of this article isn’t to bitch and moan about the powers-that-be. You do know that the house always wins, right? The moment you set foot in the casino, you got into the game. Still, there are better and worse ways to play, and it turns out a lot of the people who got most fucked didn’t even know the rules, their opponents, or themselves. Take this, then, as a little lesson in Mortgages 101, and as an opportunity to look at yourself long and hard. There’s a lot you can do to improve your odds.

Banks are big and bad and mean. They sell money for a living. There are always conditions; there’s always fine print. And they control capitalism’s wheel grease so completely that you always go in on your knees. While you may have emotions attached to your quest for money (you want a loan to pay medical bills or your kids’ tuition, or to make your family more comfortable), they only care about profit. And if they don’t see any in you, you’re not attractive to them. Until a few years ago, the banks were making loads of money off mortgages, housing prices were skyrocketing, and if someone defaulted on his loan, he could sell the piso and often make cash after paying back the bank. Almost anyone was an attractive borrower, especially if he couldn’t understand the legal or financial terminology in his contract or was too poor to fight back if he got screwed. Now that the well has dried up, just try to get a mortgage if you’re a single mother making less than 1,200€ a month.

Back then, though, that single mother was attractive because the banks had money to lend, she was willing to sign on the dotted line, and she wasn’t aware (or didn’t allow herself to think) that what seemed like a good deal at the time could go bad, quickly and dramatically. The first five years of a mortgage are the most difficult to weather, and if she happened to sign on when lending practices were still liberal, but within the last four years, she could well be one of the many for whom rising interest rates, falling housing prices, and loss of employment have proved a fatal combination. While no one was really prepared for the crisis, for a host of different reasons, many people getting loans also didn’t even contemplate the possibility of bad weather. That lack of foresight, combined with a willingness to be swept up in the everybody’s-doing-it mortgage fever, was further complicated by it being many people’s first financially important entree into the big boys’ clubhouse: the real estate market, where they play for keeps.

In this game, there’s another important player besides you and the banks: the real estate agents. Like all middlemen, they exist to take a chunk out of both sides. We call this a margin. They want some of your flesh, true. But they also wants to win a bit from the banks. The difference is that the banks, in all their aforementioned bad-boy glory, defend their interests much more effectively than you do. In Spain, the largest inmobiliaria, Tecnocasa, also has an adjunct party, Kiron, a financial services company that can tramitar your mortgage for you, thus sparing you the pain of having to learn about housing loans yourself. But with their services come fees and commissions, and their third-party negotiations add an additional layer of frosted glass to an already opaque and labyrinthine process. Still, if you want an education, there’s no one better to get it from than someone who’s worked both sides.

To put it in the most simple terms, the Tecnocasa/Kiron employees are essentially researchers, salesmen and negotiators. Tecnocasa’s team of agents goes door to door in each barrio and chats up the neighbors to find out who’s selling, who wants to sell, how soon they might die/move away/ spawn, and what their children’s intentions are. The company possesses a formidable amount of knowledge that could be GIS mapped to project how an individual piso, a building, or even an entire barrio might turn over within the coming years. Few people know what they do with this information, but it would be extremely useful knowledge for city planners, real estate developers, or anyone who’s looking to invest in a big way. At the individual level, Tecnocasa knows that they have to call Antonio in May, right before his daughter Sandra graduates, because he’s going to move back to the pueblo and put his apartment on the market.

Armed with Antonio’s (and many others’) trust, Tecnocasa has a formidable number of options to present to you, the prospective buyer. Rather than being taken in by the white teeth and the identical green corbatas, take this as your first opportunity to gauge what you want against what you can afford. With regard to what you want, is this a neighborhood you’re going to want to live in in ten years? Will you be able to rent the apartment out if not? Is there light? Plants seem to like the sun; maybe you do too. Do you want to have a family? Do you want the size and comfort level of that family to be determined by the size of your apartment? Find out what the hidden costs are. Get someone from outside the real estate agency to look at the pipes and the electricity and the gas and the walls. If you’ll need to do repairs, it can cost tens of thousands. Figure this cost into the amount that you are willing to invest. And don’t forget about furniture, and transportation, and condo fees. Those don’t come cheap either. Know that you will also have to pay an IVA of 7% if it’s a new apartment. If it’s secondhand, and you meet several conditions (you’re under 32, you’re a first-time homebuyer, you plan to use this place as your primary residence, and you make under a certain low amount per year), the IVA can drop to 5%, but few people in a position to buy meet all the requirements.

Once you have a more sound idea of what else you’re going to have to pay for, add this to what they’re offering. If possible, get more than one inmobiliaria to give you a quote on the price of the house. Do some research on your own to find out how much other places in the neighborhood and building have gone for. You should also find out how the government values the piso, because this could affect you down the road if you decide to buy. If the piso is sold to you for less than Hacienda has noted as its worth (and this is quite possible, since many of their estimates come from a time of inflated pricing), they can charge you a tax to make up the difference. If the price of the house isn’t in the same ballpark as what you thought you wanted to pay, or what you think it’s worth, walk away. Your costs are only going to go up from here because, unless you have several hundred thousand Euros lying around, you’re about to enter the extremely gnarly forest of finding a way to pay for what you want.

In the simplest terms, a mortgage is a loan whose repayment terms and total amount are agreed upon by the borrowing and lending parties and defined by at least three components: the principal (which includes at least the price of the piso, but can include much more), the interest rate (which can be fixed or variable, and will have the bank’s interest percentage tacked onto an index), and the length of time the borrower has to repay the loan. The interest rate is applied to the principal over the period that you have for repayment (which usually ranges between 15 and 50 years) and calculations are done with charts and best guesses (because the more variables, the more complicated the math). You end up pactando a monthly payment with the bank. If you have a variable interest rate, this monthly payment can change at your yearly revisions, depending on whether the index (such as the Euribor or the IRPH) that your interest rate is tied to has gone up or down.

There are a million minutiae that could be entered into about every concept that I’ve mentioned above, and you should do your best to learn as much as you can. But in the end, when you go to get a loan, it’s you versus someone who arranges mortgages for a living, and unless you’re some kind of land baron with your feet deep in the real estate market, you will always be at a disadvantage. Having said that, many people don’t even understand what they’re signing, and they’re negotiating in an information vacuum. While banks, mortgage brokers and real estate agents will do what they can to keep as much information from you as possible, at the end all the information is in your loan agreement. READ IT. Legally, the banks have to give you the documents at least a week before the signing. But before you even think about drawing up papers, shop around to several banks to see who will give you the best deal. At each bank, you should ask them to run several different scenarios for you. Be prepared to negotiate after asking them at least the following important questions:

1) What fees are going to be added to the housing costs I have calculated, thus increasing my principal? In addition to the apartment’s selling price, repair costs, the IVA, and possible transmisiones patrimoniales, there will at least be a comisión de apertura. Most banks also include a concept of “responsabilidad hipotecaria”, which is essentially money held in reserve in case you do something bad. This can include insurance on the apartment for a number of years, X amount for potential legal fees that they might incur, and up to 5 years of the interest that you would normally pay, plus the interest that you pay for late or nonpayment (which is much higher). If you’ve gone through a mortgage broker, they will also charge you a commission for brokering your loan. Remember, it is in both the banks’ and the brokers’ interest to get your principal as high as possible, because they make their money off the interest and the commissions, respectively, that are applied to your principal.

2) What conditions are attached to the loan? All banks have some loan conditions, but a few common ones include you having to deposit your nomina with the bank (and receive what are normally extremely shitty interest rates), do your recibos with them, contract different types of additional insurance policies that you weren’t necessarily in the market for, or spend a minimum amount with credit cards that they issue. Find out whether you are obliged to do these things, and whether you can opt out of them after a certain period of time. The banks are not going to offer you this information unsolicited.

3) Are there comisiones de desistimiento and amortización de anticipado, and what are the percentages? The miracle of compounding interest makes it interesting for the banks to keep you on the hook as long as possible. If you come into money and want to pay off the rest of your loan in one fell swoop (desistimiento), many banks will try to charge you a commission for doing so. Same for trying to get in payments before they’re due (amortización de anticipado). You should also find out what and whether there’s going to be a charge if you decide to shift your loan to another bank.

4) Is there a floor and/or a ceiling for my interest rate? If you have a variable rate and the floor (the minimum interest you must pay) is set at 2.5%, but the indexed rate drops below 2%, you may find yourself paying more than you would have to if there wasn’t a floor. Also find out what your interest rate will jump to if you don’t pay your monthly installment. As with credit cards, the penalties can be outrageous, sending your interest rate into the high teens. You can’t actually ask the banks what this rate is because they’ll think you’re planning on not paying, but you will find this information in your contract.

5) Do I really want this, given what the banks are offering me? This is obviously a question for you, not the banks. You are the one who’s taking the biggest risk here – several of the big Spanish banks have already started forming real estate companies to sell the houses they’ve repossessed, so somehow, some way, they’ll make the crisis work for them. You, meanwhile, will be left without your investment, and possibly still responsible for a large debt. Maybe your landlord’s bullshit isn’t so painful after all.

Fly, birdie, fly!

Con papeles / Sin papeles

by Julián Socorro

Diego y Pablo* son dos jóvenes veinteañeros comunes y corrientes. Amantes de la carne, el vino tinto, los perros, la playa y que, hablando del corazón, prefieren el amor verdadero. Provienen de familias de clase media de la ciudad mexicana de Cuernavaca. Cursaron estudios universitarios de diseño y arquitectura, respectivamente, en la Universidad La Salle. Al finalizarlos Diego montó su propia empresa de publicidad, en la cual trabajó durante dos años. Pablo ejerció en una empresa multinacional que realizaba un importante proyecto en su país.

Las cosas iban bien, pero querían algo más en sus vidas. Por eso vendieron todas sus posesiones y se vinieron a Barcelona para continuar creciendo personal y profesionalmente. Ambos tenían estudios, experiencia y, sobre todo, unas ganas irrefrenables de entregarse a esa nueva aventura. Sólo una cosa los diferenciaba. Diego no contaba con permiso de trabajo para la UE, mientras que Pablo, recién casado con su novia española, tenía ese papelito que a la larga le permitió seguir con su sueño. Esta es su historia.

Caminos opuestos. Hacía frío cuando Pablo llegó a Barcelona con su nueva esposa. Habían contraído matrimonio en Bilbao, ciudad natal de ella. “Un día después de la boda presenté la solicitud para el permiso de trabajo, y al día siguiente recibí los papeles”, explica. Lo primero que hicieron fue buscar piso. Y consiguieron uno muy bonito junto al Paseo del Borne. Enseguida lo contrataron en una conocida tienda de ropa: su vida en la ciudad condal alzó el vuelo.

Diego se dio cuenta rápidamente de lo duro que puede llegar a ser el invierno catalán. Su situación económica se había deteriorado rápidamente. Y la única habitación que se podía pagar estaba “en un piso donde las ventanas no tenían vidrios, además carecía de cocina y baño. Por lo cual para hacer mis necesidades debía usar un cubo y luego vaciarlo en el agujero donde, comúnmente, está el WC”. Las temperaturas eran muy bajas y “para calentarme recurrí a mantas gruesas y alguna que otra sueca”, esboza sonriente. Estaba sin trabajo pero buscaba fervientemente, entregando currículums en bares y restaurantes.

Pablo sólo estuvo 5 días como dependiente ya que enseguida encontró trabajo en su campo en una compañía que construía piscinas. “Al principio me gustó porque me dieron un escritorio grande, computadora e impresora de última generación”, asegura Pablo. Rápidamente se dio cuenta de que no era esa su vocación. Así que aceptó una pasantía en un importante despacho de arquitectura. A pesar de gustarle el ambiente y el currículum que le podrían otorgar dicha entidad, tomó la decisión de dejarla “ya que mis compañeros me dijeron que ahí no hacían contratos fijos, y sólo ganaba 900 euros”. Entonces volvió a recibir una oferta mejor de la compañía de piscinas, y allí se quedó hasta casi finales de año. Conforme, pero aún buscando el trabajo perfecto.

Mientras tanto Diego luchaba por sobrevivir. Trabajó esporádicamente en bares, lo cual le alcanzaba justo para cubrir sus gastos básicos. A pesar de no sentirse realizado con el rubro de la hostelería y de ser la primera vez en su vida que se desempeñaba en un trabajo “no profesional”, “al principio fue una experiencia buena decir que estaba trabajando de mesero. Lo encontraba bohemio, bonito, estaba aprendiendo algo, a servir mesas y a ser humilde también”, valora. Pero la necesidad hizo que tuviera que aceptar cualquier turno que le ofrecieran, llegando a realizar jornadas de hasta 18 horas seguidas. “Incluso me tocó trabajar con fiebre en más de una oportunidad. Era eso o no comer”, sentencia. Un día, volviendo a su casa, en el metro conoció a un chico que tocaba blues por las monedas que los transeúntes le quisieran aportar. “Saqué mi armónica y formamos un dueto. éramos buenos pero con lo recolectado sólo nos alcanzaba para un bocata y una cerveza”, se lamenta. Después de tres semanas, el otro muchacho dejó de acudir al punto de encuentro. Y como Diego no contaba con el permiso correspondiente del metro, lo expulsaron cerrándole otra vía de ingresos. Al mismo tiempo, y a pesar de la mala racha, se armó de coraje y repartió currículums en más de 15 agencias de publicidad, llegando incluso a conseguir una entrevista en la famosa BBDO. Pero su castillo se derrumbaba rápidamente al comentar su situación legal. Como los turnos que le ofrecían en la hostelería no eran suficientes, continuó con muy poco éxito la interminable búsqueda. “Se me gastaron los zapatos de tanto dejar currículums en los restaurantes de la ciudad. En esa época comía una vez al día”, recuerda.

Finalmente llegó el día tan esperado para Pablo. Después de probar en varias empresas de su rubro, encontró el tan ansiado trabajo que le permite desarrollar sus capacidades, y en el cual está muy valorado. Gracias al contacto de una amiga ingresó en otro estudio de arquitectura en el que se desempeña hasta la actualidad. “Finalmente puedo decir que en el plano laboral mi vida está muy bien”.

Al concluir aquel fatídico año, Diego consiguió trabajo estable en un restaurante en el cual aún cumple sus funciones de camarero, con lo que ha conseguido cierta estabilidad. Pero aún se siente muy lejos del objetivo por el cual partió de su México natal. Ahora tiene todas sus esperanzas puestas en la abogada que lo asesora para conseguir el tan ansiado permiso de trabajo. “Conozco a mucha gente que pasó de no tener papeles a tenerlos y la vida les cambió. Es otro rollo... existes, vales, tienes derechos.” La entrevista se termina y con una voluntad inquebrantable se aleja diciendo: “Cuando consiga los papeles y me ponga a buscar trabajo en lo mío, sé que las cosas van a cambiar. Estoy seguro”.

* Los nombres fueron cambiados para proteger las identidades de los entrevistados.

Seixanta nou graus en paral·lel

by Judit Ortiz Cardona

La Clàudia té 23 anys. Quan desapareix, oblida els protocols de rigor. Entra amb el cap ben alt allà on la foscor desdibuixa els rostres. Les regles estan clares: obert de 19h a 3h, sempre has d’entrar-hi amb parella, volen parelles disposades a compartir: els solitaris amb una vàlvula d’escapament de fantasies inconfessables incrustada als genitals millor que es quedin a casa davant la pantalla de l’ordinador. La Clàudia oblida qui és; sense consciència, el cos guanya terreny i és l’amo de les sensacions. El seu acompanyant és anònim i fidel. Sempre està a punt per baixar a les profunditats i despullar-se i compartir i deixar volar la pell entre altres pells. Si un dia els veieu pel carrer creureu que són a punt de casar-se. Però no. De cap manera. Les respectives parelles no en saben res. Viuen en un altre pla de la realitat. Les respectives parelles idolatren el televisor, el shopping, la hipoteca, la Visa, les vacances en un creuer de baix cost i la feina de 8 hores. Vides estàtiques. La Clàudia i l’anònim acompanyant idolatren la llibertat i els sentits. Les vides en paral·lel. Per això traspassen aquesta porta quan els ve de gust. A dins, la nostra civilització es descomposa en minúsculs fragments fins que es desintegra.

Una copa per començar. O una cervesa. O una aigua. No és important. Només marca el preludi, el moment en que els donen un bernús i unes sabatilles –blancs i immaculats–, el moment en que els recorden La Norma per excel·lència: “Has de tocar suaument el muscle de l’altre quan el que et proposa no t’agrada, i has de deixar estar la persona amb qui estàs, si et toca el muscle suaument”. Ells ho saben, són habituals del local. Baixant, a la dreta, l’SPA; al davant, uns bancs i a l’esquerra, el vestidor. Darrere del vestidor, el llit més gran de la ciutat. I allà al fons, una ombra negra dóna pas a l’altre llit, on tot s’hi val. Allà no serveix La Norma. Has d’acceptarho tot. La Clàudia no hi entra mai, prefereix el llenguatge dels signes i el respecte que implica. Tampoc hi haurà ningú que l’obligui a entrar-hi.

Desen la roba com si fossin als vestidors d’una piscina municipal, però no: són en un local d’intercanvi de parelles. Dins la foscor tenen els ulls il·luminats i somriuen amb calma. Això ja és un ritual, secret i primitiu, que els transporta a qui sap quina època de la història de la humanitat. No ens han dit si s’estimen, tampoc els hem vist en acció. No tenim el privilegi de baixar aquestes escales. Però pel to de la veu, per la complicitat d’allò mig dit i acabat de dir, volem pensar que els uneix quelcom més que el nexe sexual. Quan són damunt del llit més gran de la ciutat, nosaltres diríem que comencen a estimar-se o a fer l’amor, ells diuen que comencen a tocar- se. Els agrada sentir com l’altre tremola i fer pujar la temperatura fins a 69 graus. A vegades prefereixen l’SPA. La suavitat de l’aigua que diu ella. Hi ha dies que només estan ells dos, encara que algú altre els proposi entrar en el joc, encara que hi hagi 20 persones al voltant. Altres dies, la Clàudia prefereix emmirallar-se en una dona i compartir els secrets femenins o mirar com el seu acompanyant fa gemegar de plaer una altra noia. Només un cop el seu acompanyant la va separar d’un home per evitar que la parella d’aquest home es violentés. Aquella vegada, la Clàudia i el seu nou amant no van tocar el muscle de l’altre, estaven ben a gust. Diu ella que era un petó etern, quasi místic! Cap dels dos va voler aplicar La Norma. Però fou necessària la separació. Es tracta sobretot de ser respectuós i acceptar la voluntat de l’altre. Res és gratuït. Parelles entrecreuades que viuen a diferents plans de la realitat. Paral·lels.

A sota la ciutat hi ha una altra civilització bastida damunt dels principis del respecte i la confiança, del sexe i la llibertat, encara que els ulls convencionals només hi vulguin veure perversió i desenfrè: temen ser traïts. No saben estimar. Poseeixen.

Virgin Birth

Following are excerpts from the doctoral thesis research undertaken by Jess Schneider from 2004-2008, as part of a multi-disciplinary project in horticulture and gender studies. Amongst other objectives, the work sought to illuminate aspects of the close emotional connections that we establish with plants, especially those that produce a valuable product. Furthermore, Ms. Schneider’s research concerned itself particularly with the relationship between our treatment of plants and our treatment of humans, as well as the similarities between our larger world view and our attitudes towards cultivation for production. These excerpts are from documents and papers collected over the course of her investigation. Unfortunately, her work was ultimately rejected as frivolous by the board of her department.

If you treat hempseed with estrogen, you can increase your percentage of females by about 10%. You just dissolve a birth control pill in water and soak the seeds in there. It might seem like cheating, and, hell, I don’t really know if it has any negative effects on the plant, but it gets you the results you’re after. (Floyd Landis)

While the plants have a given predisposition in their gender chromosomes, the sex of a plant grown from seed seems also to be determined by environmental factors. Early in their growth, exposure to certain chemicals, as well as to different levels of light, humidity and temperature, can all influence which way the plant goes. (Alexander von Humboldt)

Males must be ruthlessly removed from the area as soon as they can be sexed. A single male can ruin an entire crop of virgin females by pollinating them and causing their buds to fill with seeds. Instead of focusing on their own growth, these females end up putting all of their energy into their pregnancies. (Alice Schwarzer)

Fungus can affect plants when the flowers are at approximately half-growth. It moves quickly and stealthily and can travel via wind to other plants. While some prefer to trim out only the rotted portion of the bud, I believe that the sudden and decisive removal of the branch is the only solution. (Joe McCarthy)

You can produce more by topping your females. Unfortunately, sometimes they’re unable to recover from the trauma of having been “pruned”. (Henry VIII)

It’s all right to harvest buds early. Those are the ones that give you the most cerebral high. You just want to watch that you grab from the middle or top of the plant, so that the bottom third buds get nice and big and fuzzy. But don’t let them go too long before you harvest. After a certain point, the females start to lose their potency. (R. Kelly)

When most of the white hairs have turned colors, strangle the plant by cutting off its water supply. It’ll put all of its energy into the buds and the leaves will start dying. Pull them off as it happens. After about a week of this, you can start harvesting by cutting the plants off near the bottom. Then cut the plants apart, branch by branch. (Ted Bundy)

Cloning is a wonderful mechanism for preserving characteristics of a plant you love. From one plant you can make clones, and more clones from those clones, and it doesn’t reduce their potency. You will be able to pass your creation onto others, quasi-indefinitely, and protect yourself in case your crop meets with unforeseen hardship. (John Francis Queeny)

Always keep a mother in a vegetative mode if you have a strain you want to maintain. She should be devoted solely to this task, for the good of your plant dynasty. (Joseph Smith, Jr.)