I was done with Gibraltar.
At this point I felt done with my trip.
Nothing in my day made me think the detour to this tiny British
territory wedged between Spain and the Mediterranean Sea was worth the time I
spent navigating my way around Spanish public transportation and sitting
through an indecent proposition that somehow spanned awkward, disgusting, and funny
all within two minutes. I was originally dissuaded away from going to Gibraltar
by a well meaning friend with the words, "It's just a big rock," but
I was in the area and knew I would never take a trip specifically to go to
Gibraltar. After all, its value lay in its oddity, like stopping by the Mystery
Point in Santa Cruz on your way to visit the California coast, you do it
because it's there. Though the territory's claim to fame is a rock often used
in metaphors for enduring stability, the true beauty finds itself in how ugly
all 2.642 square miles are.
I do admit, part of the appeal of making the trek from Tarifa to
Gibraltar was a chance to be around English again. My arrival in Spain had been
marked by periods of time entertained by various men, interspersed with more
time spent wandering around not quite knowing what I was doing or where I was
going. Granted my trip to Spain was last minute and could have just as soon
been a trip to Malta, Ireland, France, or a road trip along the U.K. coastline,
or if I had thought out my plans better, I never would have headed west from
Egypt, rather I could have spent the time that was originally allocated to
Ethiopia on a trip through Jordan and Israel.
But Spain was the decision and,
perhaps it was partly due to my uncertainty regarding this decision, or
disappointment that I had not gone into the Middle East, but today I wanted to
hear and speak English. I hate to admit this to anyone, but I've wanted my trip to be
over ever since I left the peaceful safety of Dahab. Everything else from that
moment on has been me wasting time. Maybe that's what this leg of my trip has
taught me, that I'm not really a great world traveler like everyone likes to
think I am. Okay, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I really miss the
more adventurous parts of my trip, when I'm alone without distraction, it's
hard not to let the loneliness catch up.
The moment I crossed the border from La Linea, Spain to Gibraltar
I knew I entered into a sort of bizzaro world that didn't quite live up to my
needs. Though all the signs were in English, I encountered mostly Spanish, and
after a hike halfway up the rock and a disappointing meal inside an English
pub, I set myself against the strong winds characteristic to this part of the
Mediterranean and towards the border back into Spain. Stopping occasionally
across the airport runway that separated the city center from the border
crossing, I turned to take a few last photos of the rock to justify my
visit.Somehow in my mind I reasoned that if I could capture one majestic shot
of Gibraltar, then my day trip here wouldn't have been a waste. Passing closer
to the border, on a whim, I stretched my hand into my right pocket to feel the
few British pounds weighing me down and decided I had enough time to take a
quick bus tour around the island.
"Would you like a round trip or one way?" Asked the
driver as I stepped up to pay. I asked him if the bus went around Gibraltar,
but he told me he was only driving to Europa Point and back again.
"That's fine, I just want to sit and see the area." He
quietly noted the air of sadness in my speech and instinctively showed me the
kindness I had been missing all day.
"Have a seat," he told me as he returned my change,
"I'll let you know when we reach Europa Point." He smiled at me and
at that moment I sunk into a window seat and let my body rest as I took on with
thankful eyes, my knight. An otherwise nondescript British man barely
older than myself, his face spelled out gentle kindness. A friend once said to
me that I had the air of a small town girl about me and I couldn't understand
what he meant by that statement until this moment. My driver had an air of
humility and grace I've only seen before in people who grew up in the
encouraging environment of a small town. Regardless of where life took him, he
would always have this gentleness about him, inherent in his actions. I sat and
watched as our bus picked up locals on their way from point A to point B until
we snaked our way to the end of the line. "I'll be parked over there for
about ten minutes, have a look around and then I'll drive you back to the border."
I thanked him and walked briskly towards Europa Point and, though
I had seen the outline of the African coast from my vantage point in Tarifa, it
somehow looked even more attractive as I stared across the murky coastline
while standing in the shade of the rock as the breezy coolness of sand-less
wind blew my hair into a tangled mess and I sniffled from sea salted cold wind.
A small group of German tourists shared the lookout point with me as I stood smelling the air, and after a moment's hesitation, I decided to have at least one photo to remind me of this moment. Asking an older German gentleman to play my camera man, I turned my back to the rock, faced Morocco and pushed my hair out of my face as the wind blew from behind. I blinked and in an instant I was frozen in time with my eyes closed and my hand up showing itself in mock pose. I didn't ask for a new photo, it was enough that it was what it was.
I knew an allocation of ten minutes was hardly enough for me to do
any real exploring, but finished with viewing my small area of an already small
territory, I headed back to the bus and sat with my driver.
"What brought you to Gibraltar," I asked him.
"I'm from a small town in the U.K. and at some point I wanted
to get out and see the world. When I was a student traveling in Spain, I met
the woman I would marry, she was offered a job in Gibraltar and I didn't want
to go home, so I followed her here." I smiled at his story and asked him
if he spoke any Spanish. "No, my wife is from Spain so she handles all the
Spanish, but my little girl is learning." At that he smiled with all the
pride of a first time father. We chatted a little more and I asked him a few
more questions about his life, it never crossed my mind to be surprised how
willing strangers are to share their stories with me, and as I ran out of
questions to ask he started up the bus to make our way back to where we began.
As we started to drive, the group of German tourist motioned for him to stop,
but he pointed with a wave of his hand towards the proper bus stop one hundred
yards down the road as I sat in silence. We followed the trail shadowed by the
rock and picked up a few more tourists and a handful of school children on
their way home. Since starting my trip I've lost all concept of the importance
of days of the week. My activity was based on a whim and not dependent on an
arbitrary seven day cycle.
"Are we going to be late? I can't be late going home, my mum
and dad will kill me," the school girls sitting behind me debated in worry
as we were caught in standstill traffic. A few of the tourist wondered out loud
in their respective languages what was going on as few ventured to ask the
driver. Looking a little flustered, the driver called into central command for
an answer.
"An accident....Queen Street is closed...not sure when it
will open up again, but soon." We all overheard the static filled radio
reply.
"Should we walk? I think we should get off, I have to go
home," the little girls behind me debated amongst themselves, "okay,
I'm going to ask the driver to let us off here." And so they left the bus
along with a handful of other passengers, but without anywhere I had to be, I
stayed fixed relieved to have a few more moments of rest before heading back
into uncertainty. For my poor white knight, my moment of rest was his moment to
stress as the other passengers began to get restless. Within minutes we started
to roll forward at a snail's pace as Queen Street slowly opened herself up for
mobility. Not long after, as the bus stopped in front of the border crossing, I
walked past the driver and smiled at him.
"Tough day," I sympathized with him, and still a bit
flustered, he apologized for the delay. "It's not a problem at all, and
thank you, I really appreciate the drive." He had no idea how much.
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