Gibraltar

Las Negras continued...
I went for a walk around the rocky headland to take some pics. The track was narrow, crumbly and bordered on one side by a sheer drop. I seem to have developed a fear of heights that I wasnt aware of ever having before. My legs and feet tingled as I followed the path around the point, and was met with a breathtaking view of rocky cliffs and deep turquoise sea.

9/7/13
The festival turned out to be some local, albeit quite talented, local musicians having a bash in a tiny bar in a backstreet of the town of Las Negras. We needn't have stayed, but it was nice to rest for an extra day before heading off.
Next stop Gibraltar.

Gibraltar
The proverbial rock of Gibraltar was an impressive monolith, a lot bigger than I imagined. It was a weird place really. Being a British colony, there was a checkpoint Charlie, and once inside the gate, we really felt like we were no longer in Spain. All the signs were in English. Gone was the litter and the run down air. It was incredibly busy. Everyone seemed to be in an incredible hurry...to get where one can only guess as the place was so small it's difficult to imagine having to hurry to get anywhere. A bit like blowflies in a jar. There were bobbies all over the place, and English pubs and cafes with bangers and mash on the menu, and no doubt warm beer on tap. There were very British looking buildings, and names involving royalty and Chatham, and gates called 'ragged staff'. Union jacks hung in doorways and windows, and well dressed people drove around ( very quickly) in jaguars and beemers while talking on their mobiles. There was an airport at the entrance, and the runway intersected the road!
We wanted to go to the top of the rock of course, and knew that the last cable car left at 7.15 pm. It was 7.10 and we were at least 20 minutes away. For some unexplainable reason, we just kept on walking toward the cable car station...Daphne being nearly knocked down by a British looking woman...probably the wife of a high ranking naval officer, speeding around the corner in a BMW and screeching to a halt inches away.
When we got there in one piece, we were met by a man with a van offering late arrivals a tour of the rock for a good price...a clever rort, but we weren't complaining. We enjoyed a comprehensive tour of the rock, with stop offs, a full run down on the history and contact with the monkeys living there. The monkeys are there as the result of Moroccan pirates centuries ago who had them as pets. Cute, but to be quite honest, smelly and nasty. I had to wash clothes and sheets today as I feel I am covered with some nasty bitey things.
Paul, (see pic where tony has just been bitten and paul is probably wondering if he paid his insurance bill) our guide, was a spanish speaker of Maltese and Italian decent (as most native Gibraltans are) as his ancestors were migrants brought in to work. He identified as British. The language is like a mixture of English and Spanish. The accent sounds South African. They are very proud of their heritage and brag a lot it seems, as people from small countries tend to do...a la New Zealand. Although New Zealand is a super power compared to Gibraltar.  I just felt he was confused.  I'm an Italian maltese Brit who speaks Spanish gibberish being exploited by the English, hated by the Spanish and I'm proud. I was happy to take some photos and get out of there before I was served up some egg and chips in olive oil and a warm lager. Or got rabies from the crazy monkeys.
Tony actually got a bit too friendly with a monkey and it bit him. See the pics.
Also while on the subject of tony, his Spanish is coming along nicely. Unfortunately he has enough to practise on the poor ever suffering Spanish, but not enough to make himself fully understood. So in order to be able to 'practise' he talks about trivialities, avoids the point, and gets himself into holes he can't climb out of and ends up waving his hand saying 'never mind'. At least the girls and I have each other to cringe with. If I was alone, I would put a paper bag over my head and maybe even not go out. A waitress last night actually told him to stop speaking Spanish. Hallelujah.