1 Apr

We woke up early, checked out of our apartment, and grabbed a cab for the train station. The Hertz rental facility was there, and since the rail station was a good distance from our apartment, we couldn’t just walk there with our entire luggage. It didn’t take too long for us to get our keys and fill out all the paperwork. We walked out into the lot and found our car; a tidy, black Ford Focus that was looking sharp in the morning sunlight. We loaded our luggage and Dad took a few minutes to figure out the controls. It’s been a while since he’s driven a stick shift (except for Mr. O’Connor’s truck when we moved in last fall) and he wanted a bit of time to get the feel of it. The next thing we needed to know was how to reach the highway. We asked a parking lot attendant who unfortunately knew no English. Using a mix of broken Spanish and hand gestures, she was able to communicate directions to us. I understood a few words such as ‘puente’ which means bridge and gathered that we were supposed to essentially go in a box until we reached the bridge. After the bridge, we had to drive for about two kilometers until we saw signs for the highway. Good thing we had a couple of maps in the car, too! We buckled in, and then we were off!

Despite little recent practice, Dad handled the car quite well. We were fine direction-wise for a while until we accidentally missed a turn for our highway and then had to circle back using a U-turn. Thankfully, the traffic wasn’t very heavy and no one got too mad at us for being dumb tourists. The drive became very smooth and comfortable once we reached the highway. Our first destination was La Linea and Gibraltar! I’ve wanted to see the Rock of Gibraltar ever since I first heard about it and especially after last fall when in my Shakespeare class with Armitage we read that Cleopatra has this vision of Antony’s greatness in which he straddles the Strait of Gibraltar. It’s a fitting image since in the play ‘Antony and Cleopatra,’ Hercules is said to be Antony’s patron god who unfortunately abandons him towards the end of the play to the sound of trumpets (one of the few bonus questions I missed that semester, which is of course why I remember it so well now!) The legend of the Pillars of Hercules (which is made up of the Rock of Gibraltar and it’s sister rocky formation in Morocco) states that to complete one of his twelve labors, Hercules had to cross over a mountain that was once the Titan Atlas (same one who held the world on his shoulders, the one Ayn Rand wanted to shrug his shoulders) in order to reach a flock of some famous sheep. Instead of going around the mountain, Hercules used his invincible mace to split the mountain in half, thus shortening his route and connecting the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea. Who would not desire to visit the site of such a legend! Anyone, we drove along the coast merrily heading for the place of antiquity. The ride was much shorter than I thought it would be, since after only a couple of hours, Mom pointed out that she could see the Rock. I didn’t believe her at first, until I became convinced that it couldn’t be anything else. It was beautiful! And HUGE! No wonder the ancients must have believed it to be part of the gateway at the edge of the world!

We found our way easily into La Linea and then sought a place to park our car. You can drive into Gibraltar from Spain, but the line is long and it’s more of a pain than it’s worth. We put in money for about five hours and then grabbed our things and headed for Gibraltar. ‘Customs’ didn’t take to long and at Passport Control I asked the guy if he would stamp my passport which he obligingly did. Hooray! We took a quick bathroom break at the airport (which is so tiny I think that only British Airways operates there and the only flights coming into Gibraltar leave from Heathrow and Manchester). Dad went in search of a map and some tourist information but was surprised and disappointed to find that all the guides and maps were in Spanish only! This was English territory! While he looked for those, I wandered into the gift shop in search of my shot glass and a pin for Saket. I found both of just the kind I wanted and I fortunately had some pounds with me. I’m sure they would have accepted Euros, but it was nice to be able to use my pounds. I was also thrilled to find that the Gibraltar pounds are different from the English ones. I set some aside for safekeeping. With my new treasures, I returned to my parents and then we headed out into the city.

Our guidebook said that you could take a bus all the way into the city and then to the top of the rock for a small fee. As soon as we reached the bus stand, I knew I was really in English territory. I saw a bobby (policeman with those tall black hats) and a red double-decker bus and even the bus stop signs were the same that they use in London. The same ‘look left’ and ‘look right’ signs were painted on the road to prevent dumb tourists from crossing the street at inappropriate times. Ah, good old England, er, Gibraltar. After waiting for what seemed like an awfully long time, we caught a bus into the city and bought a return ticket, which I hung onto. The day was beautiful if a bit windy and it was nice to ride in the open air. The ride didn’t take too long and before we knew it, we were in the city proper. We got off and walked about ten minutes to the center of town. We saw pubs and Indian restaurants. You can’t keep a Brit too far from his curry and ale…

As we were searching for a lift to the top, a tour guide in a large van pulled up beside us and offered to take us to the top and to all the main sites on the Rock for 20 Euros per person. There were already five girls in the car and he told them that they would get the same deal (he normally charges 25 Euros). A tram/bus ride would have cost us about the same so we decided to go with this guy. Turns out that was a great idea. He was a friendly guy who knew a lot about Gibraltar and was happy to answer questions. Funny accent too; not really English but not Spanish either. Two of the girls were from Wales and the other three were traveling together from I’m not too sure where. I think they were on a company vacation or something. Our first stop on our way up the mountain was at a little promontory that had an excellent view of the strait. The horizon was a little hazy but you could still clearly see Africa. Africa! The very first time I have ever laid eyes on that dark and rather mystical continent. This trip was also my first real interaction with the Mediterranean; flying over it doesn’t count! I could clearly see the other pillar and some undulating green hills near it. Beautiful.

We went a bit higher to see the famous macaques/Barbary apes that are the only wild monkeys of Europe. Legend has it that if these apes ever leave the Rock, so will the British. Many Spaniards hope this will happen but the British government and the people of Gibraltar (who are overwhelmingly in favor of British rule + self-government than Spanish rule) think otherwise and therefore these monkeys are very well looked after. These monkeys are adorable but show a great deal of irreverence for personal space. I walked out to this little ledge to take some pictures of the breathtaking view, and when I put the camera down, I was completely surrounded. One just sat there about a foot away, possibly waiting for food or something. I know they’re not dangerous, but it was a little unnerving. I gingerly stepped around them and headed back to the van.

Looking out over the top of the mountain into the strait really made me believe how the people of old felt that this place was the edge of the world. A dazzling blue that slowly melts into a hazy grey is all the eye may behold. Once you leave the sight of land, you’ve entered nothingness…it must have been terrifying for the first adventuresome sailors who braved the unknown and entered an expanse where unimaginable dangers could lie. ‘Here be monsters…’

From the edge of the world I traveled through the very gates of Hell. Or, rather, the gates of a great cave that runs for kilometers inside the rock. The old Romans who visited this place thought they were gazing into the Underworld once they excavated part of this cave. I can understand the impression because although the caves are not as impressive as Carlsbad Caverns or other ones I’ve seen, it’s still a neat sight with all the stalactites and stalagmites.

The cave was the last real stop on our journey around the rock. After that, we drove down and then our guide dropped the girls off in the center of town before taking us back to the border. We cheerfully paid him our 60 Euros and then crossed back over into Spain. I missed a chance to get my passport stamped with a Spanish stamp, but oh well. I was concerned that our parking time limit was about to expire so I hurried as fast as I could back to the car. Thankfully, no one had noticed that we were fifteen minutes late. We pulled out the lot, and Dad idled the car near the road so I could get closer to the shore and take some final pictures. It was simply gorgeous.

We left Gibraltar and then got back on the highway bound for Marabella (mar-ra-bayah) on the Costa del Sol. The drive was quite pleasant though we started anxiously looking for affordable hotels since this was the stretch of our trip for which we had not yet booked hotels. Near the outskirts of Marabella, we saw some nice looking hotels. We stopped at one of them only to find out that it was a golf resort that was charging over 100 Euros per night for a single room, and over 200 for a triple. We simply said ‘no thanks!’ and drove further into the city. As we neared the center, I saw a sign for a 3-star hotel on the right and then directed my dad to it. We circled this little shopping center area for a bit before we found it. Fortunately, he pulled into a parking spot right near it and stayed with the car while Mom and I checked the place out. It had a triple room that was spacious and nicely outfitted and for 90 Euros a night, we were set. I made payment arrangements while she helped Dad get stuff out of the car. I joined them and together we managed to haul all of our things up in one trip. We rested for a little while to freshen up before leaving in search of dinner. I had seen an Indian restaurant just a few shops down from our hotel (how convenient, right, and we were worried about food…) so we decided to try it.

The wait was rather long because it appeared that only one man was running the whole show. He probably had a cook in the back, but we were rather doubtful of that. There was a small British group near us who said that it might be a while before we got our food. We didn’t mind too much ‘cause even though we were pretty hungry, we didn’t have anywhere to go so we weren’t in a rush. We gave our order and since I had seen cava (Spanish champagne) on the menu, Dad decided to order a bottle of it. After some time, our waiter came out with the bottle, popped it next to me, and then poured me a little bit to taste. I thought it was all right so he poured everyone a glass. He overfilled mine a bit so it spilled over which was kind of funny but kind of sad too. After he left, Dad commented that he didn’t know what he was doing. Apparently, a waiter never gives the lady champagne to taste like that, and he certainly doesn’t overfill the glass! We toasted each other and had our sips. I’m such a sweet tooth that a drink practically has to have chocolate in it for me to like (or some other sugary/fruity liquid) but I did like this champagne. It wasn’t as strong as some of the other things I’ve tried which was nice. We were done with our first glass before our food came. It was fun to sip champagne while eating. Another woman came in who was much more experienced with serving alcohol. She quickly and expertly refilled our glasses and we thanked her for it. The food was pretty good, though by the end of the meal I was feeling kind of funny. This was the very first time that alcohol had ever affected me. It struck me as simply hilarious that the first time I felt even slightly tipsy would be in Spain with my parents. That’s all I was, just a bit tipsy. We paid and then headed for the beach where we could stroll and work off some of dinner in the cool coastal air. I wasn’t just imagining things, I was definitely a little tipsy because I walked a little unsteadily at first. Champagne doesn’t have a terribly high alcohol content, maybe 11-12%. It’s the bubbles that get you.

We strolled along the path near the beach and kept an eye out for gelato shops and places to eat tomorrow. We decided to stay here another night because we liked it so much. When we got back, I spent a little time online checking my mail and such. We also made plans to visit Ronda, a little mountain town north of Marabella, that Mom had heard was simply gorgeous. We turned in a little early in order to have a good start the next day. Cheers!