This piece was originally written in 2008, a lot has changed to Gibraltar in the last five years the OECD White List, the new airport terminal and completion of the development at Ocean Village but fundamentally Gibraltar is still Gib or "GBZ" - since 1924 Gibraltar's international international vehicle registration code.
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Gibraltar - I Don't Know Why I Like It But I Do
After a few days of Birthday celebration it was time to return my Mother to Gibraltar for her Easyjet flight home. A few days with an older relative tends to slow things down and Gib is the perfect end to a good visit. Compared to the mayhem of Malaga Airport – where I was mid last week meeting a client from the UK – which can be likened to the bling that is Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas, Gibraltar is a genteel Country House Hotel. Like the rest of the Rock, it’s stuck in a rather British time warp with metaphoric plumped up feather pillows and a breakfast of farm fresh eggs and bacon!
The unkind have likened Gib to Woking circa 1950 with vast expanses of Formica and the ever present whiff of tobacco. Indeed some of the clothes stores at the top of Main Street, stock the kind of garments that Grandfathers wore in the 1980’s – half suede leather and half wool relaxing jackets and bottom of the barrel colours of Lacoste T shirts.
In fact Gib’s airport building looks like a 1960’s Sainsbury’s with its domed roof and rather low ceiling. The “Duty Free” shop is spectacularly poor but if you ever need to buy a variety of English products by Barker and Dobson you’ll not find better.
My kids always send me to Gib with a short list of must have items from Morrison’s – and the diesel is cheap so worth a visit to fill up. Seedless grapes, fruit Winders and crumpets.
Driving to and through Gib can be treacherous. The Spur – as it’s affectionately known – from La Linea (Spain) onto the Rock can be a place of some conflict. Although there is a roundabout at which you can turn left to join the queue to enter Gib, God forbid you try. Hysteria breaks out as I tried. I am forced by some very pushy drivers to join the back to the Spur filter some 500m further north.
Casemates Square, with its curious blend of timeless and rather posh glass goods, fast food restaurants and shops selling linen tea towels with images of Gib and “made in china” Monkeys bearing the familiar red and white emblem of Gib – which I suppose are intended to ape those at the top of the Rock. Behind Casemates Square is a scruffy café and Pool Hall called “The Roxy”. I have noted before that there is an amazing blend of people in Gib but today sitting on the pavement outside the café are three people of indeterminate age. One is of Afro-Caribbean origin, another is of Asian origin and a third is very definitely of old Gib origin. In the usual course of event this group would have been completely unremarkable but for the fact that they are all wearing new white baseball caps promoting the current Gib phenomena – online gaming!
Pulling up at the supermarket, Morrison’s have recently refurbished extensively. A quick trip through the store picking up my bits – including fresh chillies that you don’t seems to be able to buy in Spain - and it’s up to the Express till.
On the plastic screen that protects the cashier from any would be thief there is a red sticker. It warns that unless you are 25 and can prove it you cannot buy alcohol in the store. When quizzed about the effect of this the cashier knew little but though it may have originated in the UK. I am not sure that such a move could resist a challenge from the Civil Liberties folk, but in Gib you clearly get the impression that it’s pretty much a law unto itself. Given the apparent lack of antisocial behaviour, I wonder whether conscription may be considered next!
© Mark FR Wilkins 2008
