Hola!
I guess the most interesting part was just seeing the complicated relationship between Spain and England focused on this tiny rock. All the Gibraltar residents (weird, I know, but there were a lot) spoke perfect British and perfect Spanish with a Spanish accent. We actually met a young teenager on the bus from Gibraltar, and he spoke both so well. He said they taught them in school starting at 5. But besides this, the Spanish attitude towards Gibraltar was dismissive to say the least. They tried to ignore its existance as long as possible unless they were forced to. I didn't see any British aggression towards the Spanish, but that's because look who's holding the land right now. When we went to Burger King (I know, I know, I never would have usually, but we had hiked for 6 hours without eating a single thing, and all I wanted was a burger), the cashier would say "Next, Siguente" all in one breathe. The dual language used was quite hilarious. Example of an overheard: " 'Oh 'ello there! Howya doin'? 'Ow are the children?' 'Oh, they're doin' right well, I suppose. Dame la caja de bombillas al lado de las tijeras. Tia, que va, el otro lado. Right, well, I'd better go, I suppose. Cheerio!'" No joke. What a glorious conversation to overhear.
As I was sitting in Cadiz, eating my potaje and croquetas, I realized I had a sudden hankering for fish and chips. Ok, not really, but Gibraltar is 2 hours away, it'd be a crime not to go. So my friend Kevin and I grabbed our passports, and hopped on an EARLY bus (trust me, it was a struggle) to Algeciras.
Curious fact about getting to Gibraltar. There's no clear way, and no Spaniards are gonna help you out there. I say "Gibraltar?" They say "eh? eh? eh? Ohhh G-EE-BRAL-TAHR" in over spanified version. Ok, really? That's the same thing, I know you can understand me. But all the travel schedules and bus lines never refer to Gibraltar. I had so much trouble finding it until I found out they refer to it as La Linea de Concepcion. And there's only two ways to La Linea, either from Malaga or Algeciras. So off to Algeciras we went. What a hideous town. Apparently it has some cool Moorish influence or something (*yawn, I lived in Granada for 4 months, no big deal), but really all we saw were shipping yards and factories.
After dropping us off at La Linea (really just a weird bus station next to a street lined with fast food joints) we walked to the border. When we walked inside, they took a cursory glance at our passport and waved us on. So much for national security.
I kept expecting to cross a specific line, but no, instead it's just an airport runway. I think they stop people from crossing when there's airplanes actually landing. I hope. It's striking how dramatic the change is crossing into Gibraltar. The moment you get there, you're standing on Winston Churchill Ave. There's a red phone booth, and people speaking in British accents around you driving the famous London cab. And the most comical of all. When we were in Spain, waiting to cross the border, it was sunny and beautiful as always. Then almost as soon as we crossed into Gibraltar, it got cloudy. And stayed cloudy. There was a gigantic, grey cloud parked right on the rock. And it wasn't budging. It's as if the British came to Spain, looked around and said "Hey! This place is cloudy like home! Let's take this part!" Sure enough all day long, it was cloudy, and actually started raining in the afternoon.
After walking around the downtown area of Gibraltar for a bit (yes, it has a Marks & Spencer, woo-hoo) we were trying to figure out how to get UP on the rock, an interesting predicament since it's almost vertical. As we were contemplating if we could climb up it, a British chap with bad teeth (I'm sorry, it's just what I notice first!) came up and told us there was a bus that went to the top, with all admissions prices and everything included in the price, and they'd even get you a picture with a monkey. How much? 30 pounds. POUNDS. Are you crazy!? Do you know what I could buy for that? He told us that was the only way up. And so he left us still figuring out the physics of trying to scale the rock without climbing equipment.
Then we heard from someone else there was actually a funicular that went to the top for much cheaper. HAH. Forgot to mention that one, eh mate? So I went to go get some money out, expecting to get British pounds. Oh no, that would be way to easy. No, instead it gave me Gibraltar pounds. Really? Of all the useless crap in this world.. what am I gonna do with that? I have yet to find a place that converts Gibraltar money, and thus it is currently sitting on my desk, with a demonic monkey smiling at me from the bill. 
After the 5 min trip up (nice views, but don't look down), we were finally on the rock. I get out, and say "Where are the monkeys?" And then I turn around. Oh, THERE they are. A bunch. Some cute. Some not. 
My feelings towards monkeys were ambivalent at this point. Yeah, they're kinda cute. I don't know how I feel about touching them, but they're pretty cool. So we walk a little bit farther to the Monkey petting thingy or whatever. There was a huge food pit, and about 20 monkeys scattered around it, sitting on walls and eating each other's ticks, or whatever they do. Then one of the stupid tour guides of those buses that were trying to take us up for 30 quid comes over. He starts offering the monkeys food, trying to coax them to get on one of the tourists so she can take a picture.
My feelings towards monkeys were ambivalent at this point. Yeah, they're kinda cute. I don't know how I feel about touching them, but they're pretty cool. So we walk a little bit farther to the Monkey petting thingy or whatever. There was a huge food pit, and about 20 monkeys scattered around it, sitting on walls and eating each other's ticks, or whatever they do. Then one of the stupid tour guides of those buses that were trying to take us up for 30 quid comes over. He starts offering the monkeys food, trying to coax them to get on one of the tourists so she can take a picture. I don't know if it's something he did, or just for no reason, but all of the sudden all hell broke loose. The monkeys straight up went Jumanji! One monkey apparently did something wrong, and they all started screaming and launching themselves through the air. OK, my idea of monkeys have definitely changed. Get them away from me, they're not THAT cute. The idiot tour guide is still sitting there with a monkey, saying "come here, monkey, come and take a photo with this nice man". I walk past the monkey, and make the mistake of making eye contact with it. BAD IDEA. I just manage to turn towards the front when I see Kevin's face, and he says "uh oh, uh oh, it's coming." Before I had time to react, I feel a good 10 pounds sitting on my head. Oh lovely. You don't go on the stupid tourist who wants a photo, you jump on me. He grabs my hair and starts pulling it. The entire time I'm just thinking 'please, please, please, NOT the ear'. I don't know why I have visions of him biting off my ear. He sees the scarf around my neck, grabs one end of it, and then jumps off my shoulder. Lovely. I almost get my head ripped off, but I managed to wrestle my scarf back from that scoundrel. But that's the story behind the photo. No, I did not ask for it, I wasn't enjoying it, I just wanted to walk away with my ear still attached. 
After that fiasco, I walked around the rest of the day extremely wary of all the monkeys. I wish I could say more memorable things we saw on the rock, but we spent most of the time after that just looking for a supposed Moorish castle, or a bunker or something. We never found it, of course, but it was still cool to see both Spain and Morocco at the same time as standing on British soil. 
Kevin's cell phone even got a text message saying 'Welcome to TelMaroc', that's how close we were.
Kevin's cell phone even got a text message saying 'Welcome to TelMaroc', that's how close we were. I guess the most interesting part was just seeing the complicated relationship between Spain and England focused on this tiny rock. All the Gibraltar residents (weird, I know, but there were a lot) spoke perfect British and perfect Spanish with a Spanish accent. We actually met a young teenager on the bus from Gibraltar, and he spoke both so well. He said they taught them in school starting at 5. But besides this, the Spanish attitude towards Gibraltar was dismissive to say the least. They tried to ignore its existance as long as possible unless they were forced to. I didn't see any British aggression towards the Spanish, but that's because look who's holding the land right now. When we went to Burger King (I know, I know, I never would have usually, but we had hiked for 6 hours without eating a single thing, and all I wanted was a burger), the cashier would say "Next, Siguente" all in one breathe. The dual language used was quite hilarious. Example of an overheard: " 'Oh 'ello there! Howya doin'? 'Ow are the children?' 'Oh, they're doin' right well, I suppose. Dame la caja de bombillas al lado de las tijeras. Tia, que va, el otro lado. Right, well, I'd better go, I suppose. Cheerio!'" No joke. What a glorious conversation to overhear. 
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