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Published: March 11th 2012
Main road into Gibraltar
Crossing the actual runwaySo! I've arrived in Gibraltar! The Trip has finally started!
Goodbyes were said, promises were made and I made my way here in posh class on BA, dressed in the cargos, fleece and hiking boots that are to become my uniform and carrying a backpack (full of camera equipment; I'm starting to think I should've gone for a different hobby, like maybe Tai Chi. Less equipment to lug). It was in fact cheaper to upgrade online at check-in than pay for a second bag. And although I didn't actually need the second bag allowance... Well, you know, just in case.
After playing peekaboo with happy pre-toddler Freddy seated in front of me, I nodded off to sleep and awoke to the view of surprisingly blue waters, dotted with container ships and sunny skies. I now have my first stamp in my new passport (yay!) and once outside the airport with my bag, attempted to navigate the bus system. Having failed that pretty much instantly, I pulled out my phone. Okay, okay, so I told everyone I wasn't taking it but after a bit of consideration, I figured it'll be turned off the majority of the time and seriously, I
Top of the Rock
Gibraltar style would probably be somewhere near the airport still if it weren't for Google maps (after today, I take it back: I don't despise you Google, even if you did send me to a non-existent post office with a heavy box in London last week). I'm sure with a little patience (and coins which I was also lacking), the bus would've been a cinch. Alas, I reasoned a 25 minute walk to the hotel would be a nice way to sight see and enjoy the lovely weather.
WRONG! Within minutes, my bag felt full of cement blocks and my camera backpack was glued to me. It wasn't pretty. But, moving swiftly on (I'm going to need to tone down on the details or these entries are going to be excessively long!), I dragged it across the airport runway (they stop traffic when a plane comes in to land!), through the centre of town until I hit the bottom of a hill. Not only did the hill make me pause for breath but there was a giant Barbary ape sitting smack bang in the middle of my path. It turns out, I'm rather scared of Barbary apes when I'm on my
own. I've met them before in Morocco but these guys seemed a lot bolder. He stared, I fiddled with my phone. He continued to stare, I sorted through my bag... Ah ha! Here comes someone who looks like a local! Let's see what he does! Hmm. Walks straight past without neither human nor ape batting an eyelid. I continued up the hill.
After checking in, I did what any normal traveller would do when they have one afternoon in a new city. I slept. I know, I should've gone straight out but I was knackered. Dozed for an hour and then walked across the road to the cable car to go up the Rock of Gibraltar. Once up there, the apes again decided my path, based on their location. I'd left it too late to visit the caves or nature reserve so I wandered around the ruins, tried to see Morocco in the mist (on a clear day you can), spoke to some Slovenian golfers and a Ukrainian guy, the latter wanting me to use my telephoto lens to find the ship he was working on, anchored out at sea. When one of you doesn't speak English and the
other no Ukrainian, that request can take a while! Back in the cable car the staff member told me that if the apes ride the cable car down, their group will banish them and the group below will attack them, explaining the reason why they tend not to hang on much after we start moving!
Then I wandered along the back streets parallel to Main Street and went to Spain for dinner. As you do. I get a kick out of stuff like that; like when we used to cross the Egyptian border for a night while living in Israel. You do it just because you can. Gibraltar's English pubs seem more suited to lunch or brunch anyway; many being situated around a square. There's a mix of Colonial Spanish architecture on English named streets (if you ever though you couldn't afford to live on Park Lane, think again) but apart from the pubs serving typical English food and the majority of people speaking English, it feels more like continental Europe. There's also a lot of new apartment complexes going up on the seaside.
Across in Spain, I found El Braseron: a massive, two story, completely empty steak
Do not feed the apes. But feel free to give them a ride
This boy and his mother were feeding and playing with the apes, providing us tourists with plenty of photo opportunities house. Okay, so eating dinner at 6pm in Spain isn't the norm. The waiter told me on a Saturday night, people won't arrive before 9 or 10pm. My clumsy attempt at Spanish (it's possible I actually spoke a mixture of Italian and French) seemed to endear him to me and he offered me a half portion of anything I wanted. The menu is geared towards the idea that people have friends to share with. Not me - at least, not yet!
Dinner was tasty and cheap (my lovely glass of wine cost €2) and I wandered back across the border feeling stuffed, flashing my passport to the guards who seemed more interested in their phones than who was coming or going. The temperature had dropped and it was windy. There were kids playing with a soccer ball on the runway, apes chasing each other across the street, Spanish people lining up to buy petrol and duty free cigarettes. I made it back through the darkening streets to my little hotel room where I now lie in a bed for what could be the last time for quite a while...
Oh and yes, I did in fact
Sentry
The road leading to the nature reserve. meet an ape called Henry. Somewhere, someone has a photo of me scurrying backwards after I'd crouched down to take a photo and found Henry sitting next to me when I moved my camera.
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Jen
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Looking forward to reading about your journey Sarah. I wish you the greatest adventure and we will catch up somewhere soon!