Walking the Rock

The night we returned to the family-run Lisboa Hostel in Algeciras, we discovered yet another gem in that mostly fairly unpromising town. One of our hosts recommended a tapas bar that was just next door. We went and checked it out and it was really fantastic. It seemed like the most authentic Spanish restaurant we visited, which makes sense since Algeciras is not very touristy, especially compared to Barcelona, Sevilla, Cordoba and Granada. It was also super cheap! That first night we had 4 or 5 different tapas, a glass of wine each and after dinner liquers (on the house!) for 8 euros altogether. We ended up going back and eating there again the next night and the waiter/possible owner gave us another round of free drinks as well as a serving of a fish/octopus salad we had ordered the night before, to enjoy as we decided what to order. It was pretty sweet.

Our post-Morocco plan was to take the ferry back to Algeciras, stay there for two nights and do an all-day trip to Gibraltar between those nights, then head off to Lagos, Portugal where we had booked a very positively reviewed hostel for the following 3 nights, then go to Lisbon for our last night before shipping off in different directions.

The trip to Gibraltar was sort of a mixed experience. Sara had heard a lot about it before coming to the region and was from the beginning arguing for a visit there. I was more skeptical. I'd heard of it but didn't really know what it was (just a rock? some sort of pilgrimage destination of religious or historical significance? I had no idea). It turns out (for those of you likewise in the dark on these matters) Gibraltar is one of the few remaining outposts of genuine British imperialism. It is this tiny island within easy walking distance from the coast of Spain which should by all logical implications belong to Spain but is in fact part of the UK. (Interestingly, even though it has been under GB control for hundreds of years, it still appears to be a sore subject to Spaniards. They get kind of embarrassed and unhappy if you mention it to them.) Everyone there speaks English, there are fish and chips pubs and UK department stores all over. It is, in fact, so obnoxiously, aggressively, kitchily English that it seems like one giant tourism stunt. Sara insisted, though, that that's just what colonies are like. It's over-the-top British and feels discordant just because, well, it is discordant.

Sara perhaps described the feel of it best as being like the Disneyworld Epcot portrayal of England. It is also a crazy tax haven, so there were a lot of shops, especially for cigarettes and booze, but everything else as well. However, there is another side to it. Most of the island is taken up by this giant rocky mountain (The Rock of Gibraltar). It's big, beautiful, green, impressive, and reportedly home to the only monkeys in Europe. I have to say, the monkeys were a big draw for both me and Sara, as they are for many other visitors. There are also a bunch of caves and battle sites and bits of history that tour guides will drive you up to and let you check out for the totally outlandish price of 25 euros per person. Sara didn't really want to hike up the mountain, but I was unwilling to get ripped off like that, so in the end we hiked, and I was very happy.

We managed to get through the gate to the scenic, attraction-heavy upper portion of the Rock just around the time they stopped charging admission. So we did the whole excursion for free!!! And we saw some mother-loving monkeys, my friend. I love wildlife in whatever form (even mice and rats and seagulls) and I'd never seen a monkey in the wild (for no lack of trying in South America), so I was really, really excited about this. These monkeys have gotten used to people, so you can get really close to them and they won't do anything to you. We saw monkeys climbing a gondola tower, monkeys stealing chocolate from people, running around, just chilling on the ground, we saw an adorable tiny little baby monkey, we even saw monkeys having sex (much to my surprise). We even had a sneak preview on the way up of one monkey running across a hotel roof. It was a very satisfying monkey experience.

We also stumbled upon an old Jewish cemetary that was up there and met this really bizarre and strange-looking Gibraltarian (his term, not mine). Without invitation or encouragement, he approached us and began a 30-40 minute uninterrupted monologue about the demographics, politics, lifestyle and culture of this crime-free strange tiny island of 25,000 inhabitants. And you thought I was bad!

Another fun fact, you have to walk across an active airstrip to get there! Overall, Gibraltar was weird but memorable and the views from the top (of Europe and Africa and the sea in between) were quite spectacular. We couldn't totally enjoy the sunset because we didn't want to get trapped on the mountain once it was done, but we caught some good glimpses and made it home. Win-win situation.