We went to Gibraltar today (under British rule of course). The queue getting in was quite impressive as they check every car, but we got waved right through, not sure if our NZ passports helped or not. We were reading about the Gibraltar airport on the way there and wondering how they managed to fit an airport into such a small country. Once we crossed the border we found out. You drive across the middle of the runway driving in and out of the country. The runway straddles the narrow strip of land that connects it to Spain.
Going to Gibraltar was quite an experience, it is very … well … British. Firstly the policemen still wear the old bobby hats, and secondly there is a ‘fish ‘n’ chip’ shop on every corner. The main reason we came here was to go up to the top of the rock on the cable car. On the way there we passed Trafalgar cemetery. Well that’s another hole in our knowledge filled in. We had learned about the battle of Trafalgar, Lord Nelson and all that, but we didn’t know that it happened just a stones throw from here. We thought the battle was against the French, we discovered it was against the combined Spanish and French forces. We also learned that they transported Lord Nelson’s body back home in a barrel of wine. So he was well pickled.
Up on the rock we saw the remains of the fortifications and were told about the various skirmishes that have occurred here. From the top of the rock and looking around, you can appreciate what a strategic position it holds, overlooking the African continent, Spain, and the narrow routes that pass between them. We also learnt that the Spanish closed the border to Gibraltar and wouldn’t let anyone through, and this was only relaxed when it was made a condition of Spain joining the EU.
Another feature of the rock, is of course the monkeys. They are very cool and all over the rock, but there are also signs warning that they are wild and will bite, will take your food, and will pick your pockets. One in particular is known for sitting on the stairs and unzipping handbags as people pass by and robbing them blind. She must be an import from Barcelona. The story goes that British rule will end in Gibraltar when the monkeys leave the rock. Evidently when Winston Churchill found out that there were only three monkeys left on the rock he had some more imported from Africa.
After leaving Gibraltar we headed back to Tarifa and the nearby beach for some lunch and a walk. The beaches around here are fantastic. At the far end of the beach there is what looks like an old disused military installation. When we got that far and tried to walk in, a military looking guy hopped out of his dumpy looking car, ambled over and told us we couldn’t go in. Evidently it is still active, although you wouldn’t know to look at it. The same applies to the many bunkers that you see along the beach. Every few hundred yards there will be another one. Many are abandoned, some have squatters living in them and others are still used … well some of the time anyway. It all seems a little strange and random. Very Spanish.
The impression is that Spain is still trying to recover from hundreds of years of wars, and more recently, the decades of dictatorship. In many places it doesn’t seem too dissimilar to the glimpses of the old eastern bloc countries that we have seen.
Going to Gibraltar was quite an experience, it is very … well … British. Firstly the policemen still wear the old bobby hats, and secondly there is a ‘fish ‘n’ chip’ shop on every corner. The main reason we came here was to go up to the top of the rock on the cable car. On the way there we passed Trafalgar cemetery. Well that’s another hole in our knowledge filled in. We had learned about the battle of Trafalgar, Lord Nelson and all that, but we didn’t know that it happened just a stones throw from here. We thought the battle was against the French, we discovered it was against the combined Spanish and French forces. We also learned that they transported Lord Nelson’s body back home in a barrel of wine. So he was well pickled.
Up on the rock we saw the remains of the fortifications and were told about the various skirmishes that have occurred here. From the top of the rock and looking around, you can appreciate what a strategic position it holds, overlooking the African continent, Spain, and the narrow routes that pass between them. We also learnt that the Spanish closed the border to Gibraltar and wouldn’t let anyone through, and this was only relaxed when it was made a condition of Spain joining the EU.
Another feature of the rock, is of course the monkeys. They are very cool and all over the rock, but there are also signs warning that they are wild and will bite, will take your food, and will pick your pockets. One in particular is known for sitting on the stairs and unzipping handbags as people pass by and robbing them blind. She must be an import from Barcelona. The story goes that British rule will end in Gibraltar when the monkeys leave the rock. Evidently when Winston Churchill found out that there were only three monkeys left on the rock he had some more imported from Africa.
After leaving Gibraltar we headed back to Tarifa and the nearby beach for some lunch and a walk. The beaches around here are fantastic. At the far end of the beach there is what looks like an old disused military installation. When we got that far and tried to walk in, a military looking guy hopped out of his dumpy looking car, ambled over and told us we couldn’t go in. Evidently it is still active, although you wouldn’t know to look at it. The same applies to the many bunkers that you see along the beach. Every few hundred yards there will be another one. Many are abandoned, some have squatters living in them and others are still used … well some of the time anyway. It all seems a little strange and random. Very Spanish.
The impression is that Spain is still trying to recover from hundreds of years of wars, and more recently, the decades of dictatorship. In many places it doesn’t seem too dissimilar to the glimpses of the old eastern bloc countries that we have seen.
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