When searching for advice on how to get birth control pills in Spain, one of the top hits on Google is a Reddit thread where many users claim that getting the pill in Spain is sooooo easy! You can just walk into any farmacia, no prescription needed, and get what you need.
This is a lie.
Maybe in larger cities like Madrid or Barcelona it’s possible. But definitely not in Córdoba. This is how my process went.
First, and most importantly, I obtained a three-month supply of my prescription before leaving the US. This is a crucial step for any medication. Having enough to get you through your first month, or more, gives you time to settle in without panicking about scheduling doctor visits immediately.
I have ASISA insurance (private insurance is required when moving to Spain; I’ll dig deeper into this in a separate post). In most cities, insurance companies have their own clinics where you can walk in and see a doctor fairly quickly. I walked over to the ASISA clinic and, after a five-minute wait, went in for my consultation.
Fair warning: most doctors I’ve interacted with in Córdoba speak little to no English. If your Spanish isn’t great, practice what you need to say before you arrive. Use Translate if necessary, and take screenshots of key phrases so you aren’t repeatedly typing the same things.
I explained to the doctor, as best I could with my limited Spanish and Google Translate, that I had just moved from the US, was out of my birth control, and needed a new prescription. I brought the empty packet with me, thinking it would help. She asked to see my medical records, saying she needed proof that this had been prescribed by my doctor, which brings me to another important point.
Make sure you have access to your medical records, prescription history, diagnoses, etc., before you leave the US. If you haven’t already, see if your doctor’s office has an app (most do). I was able to open mine and show the doctor my list of prescriptions without any issue.
Unfortunately, this is where things started to go wrong. The doctor seemed a bit confused but went ahead and wrote me a prescription. The problem? She wrote the brand name (Junel FE) instead of the actual hormonal composition. I questioned this, but she assured me the pharmacist would know what to do and could give me the closest equivalent.
Spoiler alert: no.
I left the clinic and went straight to the pharmacy. I handed over my receta, and the pharmacist stared at it before telling me she had no idea what she was looking at, because Junel doesn’t exist in Spain. I explained that it was a hormonal contraceptive and showed her the empty box. She insisted that this specific combination of hormones didn’t exist in Spain either.
I told her I understood that, but the doctor had said the pharmacist would help figure it out. She flatly refused, saying it was the doctor’s responsibility to be specific and that she wouldn’t risk giving me the wrong pill.
Okay, maybe it was just this pharmacist.
I tried the next pharmacy. Same response from two other pharmacists. No dice.
At this point, I was panicking. I had taken my last pill that morning and knew I was in trouble if I didn’t solve this as soon as possible. I briefly considered going back to the clinic, but I wasn’t confident the doctor would be helpful. I realized a gynecologist would likely be more knowledgeable.
This is where ASISA really shines. Using their app, I booked an appointment with a gynecologist at a private hospital for the very next day. Being able to book appointments through the app is a lifesaver if you’re not fluent enough to handle phone calls yet.
The next day, I went to Hospital San Juan de Dios. I was nervous, expecting a massive, confusing hospital like in the US. Not the case. The entrance was easy to find, and like everywhere in Spain, there was a ticket machine with an English option, thankfully.
You select “I have an appointment,” choose your insurance provider, and it prints a ticket. You take it upstairs to the main waiting area.
Important note: your appointment time is more of a suggestion. Mine was at 4:15. I arrived in the waiting room around 4:20, late and panicking. I went to the receptionist, showed her my confirmation, and asked if I was in the right place. She confirmed I was, then asked for my ticket. My number hadn’t been called yet, so I was told to sit and wait.
You get used to this quickly in Spain. The ticket system is everywhere.
After a few minutes, my number appeared on the screen directing me to Puesto 4, which was the same receptionist. This time, she asked for my insurance card and phone number, sent me a confirmation text, and gave me a new ticket directing me to consultation room 20.
I walked down a labyrinth of hallways to room 20. It was now 4:30, and my appointment had been at 4:15. So, in true American fashion, I knocked and then opened the door.
The doctor and nurse both gasped.
Instant regret.
I apologized profusely and closed the door. Only then did I notice the screen above it.
WAIT UNTIL YOUR NUMBER IS CALLED.
Thirty seconds later, my number appeared. I went in and apologized again. The doctor, a guy in his 30s, smiled and said, “No pasa nada.”
He didn’t speak much English, but I had no trouble explaining the situation. I showed him the original prescription and relayed what the pharmacists had said. He explained that while estrogen and progestin combo pills are common, the issue was the “Fe” component, the iron pills.
Finally, clarity.
I told him those were just placebo pills for the break week. He immediately understood and wrote a new prescription. I even explained that I needed a three-month supply since I take them consecutively. No problem. Super easy, friendly, and a much better experience than the rushed clinic visit.
I happily returned to the pharmacy with my new prescription. The pharmacist asked a few questions and needed my passport and phone number (if you don’t have your TIE yet, always bring your passport). After rummaging in the back, she returned with the box, studied it, then looked at me and asked:
“Is this a contraceptive method?”
This pharmacist, who couldn’t have been older than 25, looked me dead in the eyes and asked that question. I stared at her blankly because, madam, you are a pharmacist. In a pharmacy.
The mission was successful, but this final interaction left me with questions. Are birth control pills uncommon in this part of Spain? Why did I interact with four different women, a doctor and three pharmacists, each more baffled than the last by what I was asking? Why was the young male gynecologist the only person with a clear answer? And why did the pharmacist look genuinely puzzled when asking me if this was a contraceptive?
I may never know.
Final follow-up: The hormones in Spanish birth control pills may differ from those in the US. I was advised to start taking them immediately to avoid hormone drops and give my body time to adjust. Side effects can last a few weeks to a couple of months. It’s been about two weeks for me. Week one was rough, but I’m starting to feel normal again.
Key takeaways:
- Talk to your doctor and get an adequate medication supply before leaving the US. Three months is ideal.
- Make sure you have access to your medical records, digital or physical.
- Familiarize yourself with the local healthcare system early.
- Download your insurance provider’s app to manage appointments and documents.
- Practice key phrases in Spanish ahead of time if you’re not fluent.
- Always bring ID to appointments. Use your passport if you don’t have your TIE.
- Learn the ticket system. Watch the screens. Be patient.
- Keep track of paper prescriptions, especially for your first visit.
- Be prepared to pay out of pocket at pharmacies. Private insurance offers faster access, but prescriptions are often not covered. That said, it’s relatively affordable. I paid €15 for a three-month supply.
Thanks for reading, best of luck on your new life in Spain! May your numbers be called quickly and your pharmacists be competent.