Apart from some nasty blocks of flats, it wasn’t as run-down as I expected. But the whole experience was rather odd. England in the heart of Southern Spain…
We queued for an hour to get in, and a human-sized monkey greeted us at the entrance. It felt strangely Disney.
Once inside, our phones welcomed us to the Reino Unido, and there he was – an English Bobby Policeman.
We found ourselves in a plaza that smelt of England; a mixture of fish and chips, beer and pub food.
We ate in a pub that was too auténtico to be your typical pub irlandés in Spain. With Strongbow on tap, Pimm’s and Lamb Shank, this was not Spain. Only the surrounding sun, sea and big ‘rock’ reminded me where we were geographically…
Gibraltar is its own world. You can pay in pounds or euros, and it’s tax free. Cars and aeroplanes share the same runway (no a la vez, eh!). Smoking is allowed in bars. You hear posh English accents, thick Andaluz and: “¿Qué pasa cabrón? Where the bloody hell have you been?”
And if you get bored, you can go and see monkeys that steal.
But whatever you do, don’t miss out on this…
…The place may be raro, but then the English (we) are very raros at times… No doubt about it – we were clearly in England.
Happy Easter!!! 🙂