Monkeying Around the Best Place Ever

Moviestar status on the tarmac.

Before the sun woke up, we did, in a hostel in Marbella on the Costa del Sol. Normally, I hate waking up so much, but because we were doing the coolest thing ever that I always wanted to do, I wasn’t so upset. We got on a bus to La Linea and walked through the border to my dreamland. No one checks anything - you just show them you have a passport. There’s a rule in the European Union called Schengen, after a tiny town in Luxembourg (other favorite place) and I don’t get it still. You literally can just walk into any country in the E.U.

Well we walked right through the airstrip and up into the town that makes up this entire lovely utopian colony. I had finally made it to Gibraltar.

Don’t ask me why I always wanted to go here. I have an obsession for places like Cyprus, Malta, Luxembourg, Monaco, San Marino, Andorra, and Gibraltar. Islands or peninsulas or single-city country-states that seem to generally do better than the rest of the world. I imagined Gibraltar like Disney World. And, it was.

Everyone there was smiling, friendly, and bi- or tri- or multilingual. Most spoke with a strange Spanish version of a British accent which felt oddly familiar to what I’ve been speaking for two and a half months. They were just more interesting and worldly and impressive at first glance than your average global citizen.

My children MUST look like this.

We landed among a group of adorable school children in uniform with the same silly accents all lined up in a plaza. Armed guards assembled and directions were being given with crowds of Gibraltarians and tourists around. It was 11/11 at 11:00AM – how could we forget? No, not 11/11/11 at 11:11. They were remember the end of WWII. Also important. We were excited to make our grand wishes at 11:11 AM though. Which we subsequently forgot because…

I stumbled upon a full KOSHER DELI. I knew that Gib had a big Jewish community but hadn’t made a concerted effort to plan out finding them. This place has PsekZman and Bamba along with tons of meat products. I could only get a package of turkey since we were on the go but I took a requisite “Stefanie-thrilled-about-eating-kosher-in-Europe” photo which seems to have become a tradition for this blog. It will not be happening in America since I have general access to Allison Dining Hall’s Kosher Station, Hillel, Meor, etc. (BH, either way). At a clutch sandwich shop nearby, the lady didn’t judge me for asking for tomatoes and Russian in a cup. Deli lunch glory for me.

We took the cable car to the top of Gibraltar’s giant Rock. We wanted the full experience. Not taking some taxi tour,  we wanted to walk. We’re able-bodied beings. Yea!

Happy meat day!

We walked 12+ kilometers. Advice: Take the taxi tour. It is not a scam. If you think you’re cool enough to walk (you’re not), wear sneakers.

There were so many characters on the mountain. A man in a van alone, taking iPad photos everywhere. I found my Gibraltarian tour guide husband, tie and British accent. We also watched a Chinese lady’s bag get unzippered by a MONKEY. So many monkeys. Did I mention the monkeys? Well, there are  A LOT of monkeys in Gibraltar. There is a photoblog that goes with this one, largely dedicated to funfacts regarding these monkeys.

We continued down the mountain to St. Michael’s caves. “This cave has never seen the light of day,” remarked Meital. Yes, Meital. It’s a cave. There were stalagmites and stalactites galore and cool historical stories I won’t bore you with. The stalagmites (or is it –tites?) drip on you sometimes and the echo is wicked, but generally, it was natural and awesome.

We got lost and ended up at a ‘battery,’ a large military structure where two guys were smoking a fat joint overlooking the Mediteranean and Africa. While there wasn’t much to see, the battery must’ve been useful because only two bombs fell on Gib in WWII. Waytogo, Gib!

This is me in a cable car in Gibraltar. Go read about that.
It's the best place ever.

Then, we headed to the famous Pilar of Hercules. Not a pilar. Not Hercules. Big disappointment. However, as the former gate to the ancient world, once topped with a giant statue showing the power of great empires, nerdy me was decently pleased. And we could also sort of see Africa from there.

Next, we took another wrong turn and ended up at “Jews Gate,” in a huge graveyard. A creepy man 

approached us, greeted us, and proceeded to chat us up for an entire hour. Our hurting feet welcomed the rest for the first 30 minutes but by 45, it was too much. The man was the graveyard tombologist. The cemetery had estimated over 1000 graves of Jews who could not have all lived and died in Gib. Very mysterious, no one really knows, this guy is being paid to study it. He also inspired me to write a research grant to go back. Gibraltar is a giant and mysterious playground for nerdy big kids. Like me.

What is your name? I didn't catch it in our HOUR of chat.

We walked another two and half km to the WWII Tunnels which are as cool as they sound. Tunnels, with stuff from WWII. A weird statue barked at visitors, “Halt! Who goes there!?” and I definitely jumped. The tunnels were an interactive museum, kind of like the entire island.

Don't mess with Baxter. Or this guy.

The only thing we didn’t see is the '100 ton gun.' We really walked EVERYWHERE. Right back over the border and home to Marbella on the last bus out. As the sun set over the mountains and coastline, we reflected on our perfect day.

Everyone in Gibraltar is too nice. Some helped us find a bus. Another told us his life story. A third found Meital’s purse and returned it to the police, all euros and passport included.

Nothing about Gib disappointed me. I had history, culture, funny accents, Cadbury Caramel, kosher deli, and monkeys galore.


Anyone want to move there with me?

Baxter photography. Cred for MANY of the better photos in the photoblog, too.