Gibraltar, Tapas, Toffee Vodka and REALLY upsetting the Guide


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Europe » Gibraltar
May 11th 2016
Published: May 12th 2016
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My day ended rather well with a toffee vodka, which is more than I think I can say for Ricardo, my guide, who by the end of the afternoon wouldn't even look at me....

It all started sunny, as I had a good long chat with one of the hotel cats whilst waiting for the tour bus to Gibraltar. And then the cat slapped me but I think it was all a misunderstanding, my Spanish isn't all that good.

Once again we were being guided by 'Rushing' Ricardo, and a new bus driver but still named Pedro like yesterday. We met some older ladies who were on the Morocco trip yesterday whose sole reason for visiting Gibraltar was to get cheap fags. They had smoked their way around Tangier and they are now known as the fag-ash gang (to me). I do wonder how much cheaper the fags are, was it really worth the money it cost to go to Gibraltar? Like us, they were unimpressed with Ricardo's rushing us on like tiresome children.

It took a couple of hours to pick people up and get there, whilst Rick told us all about Marbella and how he has to work 22 hours per day to be able to live there. Why doesn't he move to somewhere cheaper then?

Upon arrival at Gibraltar, we flashed our passports at some official who boarded the bus and ran off with the Russian tourists' passports. I presume they got them back at some point. We were then decanted into minibuses with tour guides speaking our chosen languages. Tony was our new guide, very British sounding with twangs of Spanish on selected words. Tony and Ricardo almost came to blows over the latter asking the former stupid questions. Tony asked us, "are they all like that?".

As we drove along, some tourist behind us exclaimed how great it was that everything is in English. I could see Glyn's face turn black as he whipped out his iPad to get blogging. He enjoys moaning about dipstick tourists.

As Gibraltar is British, there are lots of English and American shops. Tony told us of the history of the place and that the Rock is 3.5 miles by 1.5 miles, yet it has around 30 miles of tunnels as dug during the two World Wars. The Moorish castle has seen ten sieges and is pot marked with many cannonball marks. The locals are known as Gibralatans and there's about 30,000 of them. The flat lower area below the castle is reclaimed land from the sea, using rocks blown out of the many tunnels. They have a native language which I've forgotten what it was called, but it is also known as Spanglish. The name explains why, unless you are a div and then you will have to ask why.

The roads up out of the main town were the kind that would have made our Toyota No-go cry and I'm so glad I'm not driving up there. Tunnels barely wider than vehicles are everywhere and you know it's tight when you have to wait for a cyclist to get through before you can go on. It got oh so steep, and of course, hairpin bends galore. You can't have steep hills without hairpin bends, that would never do!

We stopped at the south end of the rock to see the most southerly located mosque in all of Europe. Ooohhh. Morocco was within shitting distance and we took photos of that and Spain. There were also some cannon that can fire up
Rave in the caveRave in the caveRave in the cave

St Michaels Cave
to 18 miles, so can easily get Morocco if need be. This is when the rain began, despite Ricardo promising us it wouldn't until 3pm. Damn you Ricardo, damn you!!

Then onto monkeys!!! We were warned they nick anything and everything, but they let us down on that. Oh and they have no tails, this is because where they originally come from is cops, so it's to conserve body heat. They are the only wild monkeys in Europe.

This was outside St Michael's Cave which was, I think it was said, used as a hospital during the Second World War. It had a massive cavern and was very different to other caves I have visited. Cave tours usually give you very dull lighting, dampness and flash photography skills is always banned. But this place was bathed in ever changing multicoloured lights with 90s style soft rave music pumping out. They do have concerts there and the ground is very even with concrete steps that would be used as seating.

The rain was really giving it some when we exited the cave and so now was a good time to go on foot and see if we could get monkey photos. The monkeys come very close and one fluffy guy sat patiently on a wall as tourist paparazzi got him from all angles. I spotted some sheltering in the bushes and tried to get shots of them. Meanwhile Tony almost drove off without me, but my hubby was good enough to ask him to wait.

Back at the main square we actually got a couple of hours to do as we chose. Or so I thought. Now one of of the selling points of this place is how British it all is, yet with lots of sunshine. But we got the full British experience in that it was pouring down too. Now we thought we should try the 'British' fish and chips (or just chips for me) just because everyone was harping on about it. Ricardo said we should go to a place called 'Alfrescos' because it's the best in town and he highly recommends it. Tony said we should go to Roy's because that is the best. Both were side by side.

So we headed to Roy's in the thought that a local should know better. The fag-ash gang were happily sitting there and said it was good, so we started looking for somewhere to sit as it was packed. Then Ricardo spotted us from the doorway of Alfrescos and was shouting us to go there. We said no, but he got very insistent and it did have a lot of spare seats so we gave in and went there. BIG MISTAKE. The warning signs were obvious: it wasn't very full and I heard one guy shouting to his mate that his food still had cardboard on it, then the four of them got up and left after a few mouthfuls and not paying. Ricardo quickly scarpered. But we had already ordered. My small bowl of bland chips arrived long before Glyn's meal put in an appearance . It had the quality of really cheap pub food where they depend on you being too drunk to care. Glyn's fish wasn't very nice either and with soft drinks, the bill came to €22.50. The service was also poor. I was not happy because it was not our intention to go there and Ricardo had gotten irate about us going to Roy's. He must get commission from that place, because no one sober would enjoy it. No, no one pissed could like it either.

Afterwards we walked up town which was just like any other British high street, so when I saw a sign to a nature reserve, I followed it. And Glyn followed me, his face a picture of ecstasy as he saw the long steep steps uphill. Where else do you expect to find anything any good?

We climbed up and up and the rain rained down and down. It really was putting in a lot of effort today. As we headed up, we came upon the Moorish castle but no time to visit it. A guy in the stand whistled at me, saying we had to pay to walk up further. It was €10 to visit the castle, tunnels and other things, but sadly we had no time for that. So he said it was 50p each for just walking around. I ferreted through my purse but realised my only coins had been a tip for Tony. The guy pitied us getting soaked in the rain and let us off. Up a little further, we were rewarded with more monkey action, including a baby and another peering jauntily around a wall. The walk up had taken some time, so we headed back in fear of being told off by Ricardo.

We almost got back before the thunder and torrential rain, but not quite.

The bus station was jam packed with damp tourists blocking the entrances and exits, but eventually we spotted the fag-ash gang and we were soon on the coach. We soon had to get off the bus as soon as we got on it, to walk through passport control and customs where nothing was checked, although Ricardo was frantically waving us through and I had to sneak back in to use the loos (no bidets, this isn't Spain yet!) We then hung around in the rain for ages as Pedro hadn't been able to get through so quickly with the bus and without Ricardo.

I decided to let Ricardo know how bad the restaurant he practically forced us into was, just in case he wasn't doing it as a back-hander but was doing it in good faith. I barely started to speak when he started talking over me. But worry not dear reader, I continued on undaunted and let him know about how their others left without paying. It turned into a competition as to who could talk over each other more as he had no intention of listening or apologising. No one else has ever complained I was told, it was down to the rain, he's never heard anything bad said about it, and the best bit, he knew I would complain! What? I've never spoken to the guy before! His tactic was to make me feel bad for giving negative feedback, but I'm glad I got it off my chest.

Glyn was already on the coach and looked up at me as I was getting in my seat. I told him in my best sarcastic voice about the rain excuse and how I'd been labelled a complainer, not realising that Ricardo was right behind me! Brilliant! The fag ash gang were grinning and Ricardo was pissed off. Made me laugh for a good while, couldn't have don't that better if it was on purpose! I can handle the fact that guides can get it wrong and that they help their restaurant buddies, but don't talk to me like I'm a piece of shit when I give feedback, I wasn't rude, just telling it how
Hotel catHotel catHotel cat

The one that gave me a slap.
it was. Anyway, no tips for Ricardo!

He wouldn't let it lie though and wanted to know if the food in Morocco had been ok. So I said it was a bit bland, but Glyn had enjoyed it. I started to explain that as I'm veggie, there's wasn't much for me but I wasn't that bothered. However, Ricardo started talking over me before many words left my mouth and reiterated that no one had complained before and stomped off, saying we should go to McDonalds next time.

As we were coming to the end of the trip, Ricardo did his spiel about tips not being included and MOST people enjoyed it, and that they do try to make everyone happy, but it was all about the rain. Bloody hell, I've really upset him! When we got off the bus, Ricardo wouldn't even look at us, and Glyn hadn't even said anything!

We decided to go out for a decent meal for tea and researched on TripAdvisor the best Mediterranean place within 5 miles at ££ or less and KonFusion it was. We got it into our heads that it was at Fuengirola and drove around there for a while despairing at how crap the area was. Honestly there wasn't one place there that looked half way decent to eat at, so we stood outside McDonalds in the rain using their free wifi to discover that KonFusion was actually at a place called Cala de Mijas which is a lot closer to our hotel, but in the opposite direction.

When we finally got there, it was awesome, thankfully as I'd insisted we go there and I'd had been in deep dog-do if it was crap. It was a small tapas bar, but proper tapas with lovely staff who were good at advising those of us who didn't really know what to order. We ate at the bar as it was full, but that was cool as we got to interact with the staff more. It certainly was the best meal we have had in Spain. And then I ordered a cocktail, a Cosmopolitan. OMG. The barman didn't use measures, just whacked it all in very liberally, added bits of flaked ice, some fruit and a parrot and voila! It actually took me longer to drink it than Glyn to eat his des. sert! He was happy with his chocolate soufflé, coffee and heated biscuit... I'm sure that what he said, that he got a heated biscuit.

After we paid the bill, we were offered complimentary shots, so I went for the recommended toffee vodka. It was amazeballs!!! Why have I never had this before!!!??????

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