I am not sure that I can say that our experience of Gibraltar was totally unexpected, as I don’t think we had any idea of what to expect. This may be the result of the fact that I only think about Gibraltar in terms of sixteenth and seventeenth century history, a place populated by pirates, British sailors, galleons, merchant ships, etc; stuff out of the Master and Commander novels. (Of course, if that were the case, my expectations would be sky high) I just don’t think I ever really thought about it as a real place in the twenty-first century...where people would live and work and stuff. So when we decided to visit the Rock, so that we could be out of Spain for the one extra day we needed to be out of Spain for visa purposes, we had no vision of what our visit would look like, or even what The Rock itself would look like. How British could a little finger of Spain be? Would we actually see a monkey? I suppose the internet could have easily answered these questions, but we went into this weekend adventure mostly blind. The whole experience was bizarre, but it was totally delightful; I sort of can’t believe I am writing that. Now that I think about it, I guess I didn’t really expect to like Gibraltar, and I feel like we betrayed Spain a bit by enjoying our time in Gibraltar so much. Please don’t tell them; we are trying to keep it on the DL.
From the very first sight of the Rock of Gibraltar, something doesn’t seem quite right. As soon as you turn off of the freeway at San Roque to head south to La Linea and Gibraltar you can see the jutting white rock towering over the bay. The Rock, as a geological/geographic feature, looks completely out of place; there is not another formation like it along that part of the Spanish coast. It simply doesn’t make any geological sense until you look across the Strait of Gibraltar to the coastline of Morocco, and you realize that this rock was meant to be over there in Africa...it just didn’t break off correctly when the continents split. I admit that I thought about the animated shorts of the squirrel and the acorn featured before the Ice Age movies, which I understand is not actually the explanation, but it certainly looks like it. The Rock...and the English...and the monkeys...are totally out of place here, but maybe that is why they are all still here together. Local lore suggests that when the monkeys are gone the British will leave.
We arrived on Saturday night, so we had a full Sunday to explore the rock; after eschewing most of the silly English breakfast (couldn’t be a much bigger contrast between toast in Spain and bangers, beans, tomato, eggs, etc. in GBR) , we hopped on the cable car- a small gondola - that takes 6 minutes to get to the top of the rock at 412 meters. Beth, who is not so fond of heights, suggested that we might want to just hike to the top, but she was overruled. As it was still early, the multi-platform viewing area was mostly free of people when we arrived at the top, but there were plenty of monkeys - a few sitting on the railing, a couple on a roof, and one that had managed to grab a bag of candy from the gift shop. There is a $4000 fine for feeding the monkeys, but they don’t seem to have any trouble finding people food. I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised, but the monkeys were all around. Maya was delighted to see a couple of families of the monkeys playing in a tree just off of the road as we headed out on our exploratory hike. She really wanted to pet a baby monkey, but she was also mortally afraid of the larger ones...I suggested that these two conflicting approaches would not work so well together, but she wasn’t buying it. Within two minutes of walking, we saw a monkey hop on a tourist’s back as he was taking a picture - no big deal - the monkey just sat on the man’s shoulders for a minute. It turns out that these are the only wild (sort of wild, at least) monkeys/apes in Europe. They are genetically connected with similar Macaques in northern Africa. We spent some time while walking coming up with explanations for their presence here, which was a fun game...Maya said they came over with the Penguins of Madagascar. I think the real answer is that they were originally brought over as pets by Moors in the 17th and 18th century. Whatever their origin, their existence makes Gibraltar that much more bizarre. They actually ride on the top of Taxis that take tours around the rock - cool but wierd.
We ended up walking out to the Mediterranean Steps, which is a walking path that descends the eastern side of the rock and circles around the southern face of the rock and back to St. Michael’s Cave. The hike was stunning, as the eastern face offered a profusion of spring wildflowers, as well as spectacular views of the blue waters of the Mediterranean. Beth was a little over dressed in her black Patagonia jacket, and when I asked her why she had bundled up so much, she replied, “I thought the weather on top of the rock would be like the rest of England.” I thought that was pretty funny. It was pretty stunning to be able to take a picture of Beth and Maya standing on British soil with both Africa and Spain visible in the background. Maya, who is not a fan of hiking in general, loved the Mediterranean Steps. St. Michael’s Cave was impressive, both as a cave and for what has been done to make it a tourist attraction. They have taken a beautiful, massive cave featuring drip castle-like stalactites and stalagmites and built concrete platforms, paths, and railings...AND added color changing disco lighting. I suspect that they might use the cave for events, but I am not sure. It would be a rocking dance club. After leaving the cave we decided to just walk the rest of the rock, which Beth began referring to as “a hiking Disneyland,” which she loved! We ended up walking 8-9 miles, encountering monkeys, exploring the siege tunnels (There are thirty miles of them. The place was almost constantly under siege by the Spanish - once for over three years), enjoying the flowers, climbing walls and ramparts, and even watching a plane land on a landing strip that crosses the road we drove in on...and that pedestrians walk in on. As a combinations of fun discoveries and good walking, the rock is perfect.
We finally hiked off of the rock and down into town mid-afternoon and found an excellent outside table at the yacht marina. Hungry and thoroughly amused by our day, we found that most everyone was enjoying a late Sunday lunch of roast meat (beef, lamb or chicken), potatoes, and yorkshire pudding. Again...bizarre that the traditional English Sunday lunch survives in the glorious sunshine in Gibraltar; like the monkeys and the rock itself, it just doesn’t make that much sense to eat a heavy roast and a yorkshire pudding while sitting at a yacht club in 80 weather.. We opted for a bottle of Rose and fresh fish instead, and enjoyed a wonderful meal...as such meals often are after a rigorous day of hiking.
We did get to hear a sad love letter to Sevilla while in Gibraltar. While we were playing cards in the lounge in our hotel (yes, The Rock Hotel...how could we resist), we ended up in a conversation, in Spanish, with our waitress, a bright young woman from Sevilla. When we told her that we were living in Sevilla, her face lit up with joy. However, she went on to explain that despite finishing university with a degree in accounting, she couldn’t find a job in Sevilla and she had ended up as a waitress in Gibraltar, which she hate, monkeys and all. I explained that Maya had questioned why we would leave Sevilla on a Saturday, and she was carried away by wistful thoughts of copas on Calle Arfe, the Feria, etc. We could see, and now personally understand, her love of the city of her youth, but could also feel her pain at her estrangement from her home. Certainly for her, Gibraltar does not make sense. Though we had a near perfect day in Gibraltar, I can see how too much longer would probably be too long.
