Going “Home”

I didn’t really go home, but I went to British territory, a city near a rock that is attached to Spain.  It’s called Gibraltar.  It’s a strange little British enclave.  I liked it very much.  we arrived and waited in a long line of traffic.  Once we got passed customs, and I had flashed my British passport (“I’m one of you,” I thought.), we waited at a giant level-crossing-like situation where a road is shared between cars and air traffic.  After we had successfully passed this area, I was greeted with a quaint area of houses that reminded me of all the little quaint places in Wales or the Lake District.  It showed me that what makes Britain different to Spain is not geography, nor weather. It’s something else!  I guess we know how to make things seem pretty and not just functional.

The mountain looked fabulous and impossibly green given the climate, with a little castle popping out and donning a union flag (I still want to call it a jack!) which did make me at home. (I generally don’t do flags, only that one time as a joke Fathers’ Day present when I got my dad some car flags during the World Cup season!)

I changed my money to these special pounds:

I did the typically English thing of ordering a MUG of tea, albeit in a pub, which is not typical.  I ogled the fish and chips served in said pub.  I’ll buy some next time!  (Picture Homer Simpson thinking of donuts.)

We did a little bit of shopping.  I picked up a summer dress from Dorothy Perkins (Good old Dottie), we had an Indian lunch in a little Indian cafe, I picked up my British staples from Morrisons, which included Cadbury’s chocolate, beans and hotcross buns, and then back to Spain.

I really enjoyed it and can’t wait to go back.  It brings a new meaning to that Rupert Brooke poem (obviously I’m not advocating war; I only want to interpret it my way!)

“If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England.”

And obviously, I don’t mean that Gibraltar is England, but the United Kingdom.

It’s a nice little quirk on the Iberian Peninsula and one I’ll be going back to visit.  Only next time, there will be fish and chips!


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