Wicked partner

A couple of tourists were talking about Trafalgar Day (21 Oct) which I wrote about here in October last year.

Partner was eavesdropping as usual. Apparently the couple was confused about the battle. Have to say I am too, as it is not my period of history but it seems that the Brits under Nelson were fighting a joint fleet of French and Spanish ships.

Anyway, Partner walked past with the dog and said "Good evening" in his best British accent.

Whereupon the tourist said: "All the foreigners who live here can speak perfect English."

Partner decided to be doubly difficult and said: "Gracias, que pases un buen noche."

Whereupon they looked very confused.

His other line is usually, "Even when they come from the valleys." (of Wales).

I do hope he isn't putting off the tourists.

Up the Rock (1)

With the advent of autumn and a drop in the temperatures, I have finally been motivated to move my idle self away from the computer and get out and enjoy the beauty of the Rock.

Although Gibraltar is such a small place there are plenty of options for walks - city, maritime, historical, - on the flat, or hiking up the Rock.

Anyway, as I've slacked so much for ages, I decided to start a gradual programme of different routes up the Rock. It's always satisfying to charge uphill and see those calf muscles looking sturdy again.

So here are some pix from my walk at the weekend onto the Nature Reserve of the Upper Rock (some taken with the mobile as the camera batteries were playing up).

Entrance to the nature reserve


Looking down into bahia de Algeciras


One of the many rings embedded into the Rock, used for hauling guns up until early C20


A couple of autumnal plants


Information about the Royal Anglian Way


One of many disused batteries (Rooke), sadly fallen into disrepair


Grooming time


And another couple


The lower end of the Royal Anglian Way near Hayne's Cave Battery




A solo monkey sits atop the gateway through Charles V wall


Monkeys wandering round a mirador (viewpoint)


This one clearly has a head for heights


And is obviously bored with having his photo taken


The Union Jack Steps - start (or end) of a walk from town up the hillside

Fedra aground at Europa Point

Friday night saw torrential rain and violent winds.

But we slept safely in our beds while rescue services from Spain and Gibraltar saved the 31 strong crew from the 35,000 ton cargo ship, MV Fedra, which ran aground at Europa Point in the severe gale (sources report between Force 8 and Force 12).

The ship is Liberian registered and owned by a Greek shipping company.

Excellent work by the rescue services and apparently the crew have been released from hospital to a local hotel.

So, I thought it was time for a wander up to look. As did the rest of Gib and the south of Spain.

Police were positioned at the entrance to Europa Point, and cars and pedestrians were not allowed to enter.

Still, I finally managed to get some pix. I should add that I did not cross any police tape, or go anywhere that was closed off.

Hmm, not much to see here


Tape. No go area


Nice view of the mosque, lots of police cars, still no action


Oh, this is more like it, I can see part of a ship


In fact, here are two parts of the same ship, just not together


And another shot


A gun turret on the clifftop where I was wandering perilously to get a decent angle


Close-up - see the tiny people on there?


I guess I got more pix than most people who went up there today - and were turned back.



Sources: Gibfocus, Lloyd's List

Vichyssoise and Kenwoods

I had an urge to make soup, thanks to an internet pal - you know who you are - who always seems to be making soup.

In fact, I had an urge to make Vichyssoise, Crème Vichyssoise as it says in my very old Cordon Bleu cookery book. Especially as I had all the ingredients to hand. Which are as follows, my version first, classic one in brackets for purists/non-vegetarians and/or people who like to be precise about ingredients, as did I once upon a time.

A couple of raw leeks (3 large well blanched leeks)
Olive oil/butter (1 oz of butter)
1 stick celery (same)
2 or 3 potatoes (3 medium-sized potatoes)
Enough veg stock (1½ pints jellied chicken stock)
Soya milk (¼ pint thick cream)
Celery leaves (Chives/celery leaves)

Method
Slice leeks thinly and sweat in oil/butter until soft. Do not allow to colour. Add celery and potatoes, also thinly sliced, and the stock.

Simmer away until ready while you are doing something more interesting.

Blend. (Rub through a fine sieve - er, I don't think so - or Mouli).

Thin out with soya milk (stir in cream).

Put in fridge and chill.

Sprinkle on snipped celery leaves/chives when serving.

Easy huh? Except when I fished out my mother's Kenwood Chef which has been in storage for some time, the rubber seals had perished.

Now anyone who has ever had a Kenwood will know that if you forget to put the seals in the blender - soup sprays everywhere.

So the soup was sadly a no-no, and it went carefully in the fridge until I could go on a rubber seal hunt.

Come the next day, I bought a seal for the bottom bit, but not the top one.

I decided to risk it. The bottom one is definitely the essential one.

No bottom seal and whatever liquid is in there just flows up over the bottom part.

Held onto the lid firmly, which refused to screw on without its seal.

Yay! It worked. No soup all over the walls and floor. But I am going to find my spare seal in hiding somewhere in Spain for the top lid.

And the moral of the story is: do not throw away partially perished rubber seals because they may be better than nothing if you can't buy new. I had chucked the two old ones out, thinking naively that they were no use and I would be able to replace them easily.

Oh, and the soup was great. Not sure I made enough though.

No exciting pictures of the Kenwood and the rubber seals though. Camera batteries now playing up.

Cordon Bleu Cookery recipe courtesy of Rosemary Hume and Muriel Downes.

Gibraltar National Day 2008

Today is National Day so we duly got rigged out in red and white, or red and off white to be more accurate, and set off to John Mackintosh Square.

The venue has been changed this year from Casemates to John Mack which apparently has been quite controversial. The political speeches have also gone from the day too which seems to me to be no bad thing.

Anyways, John Mack Square was a pretty good venue, in my opinion, surrounded by the civic buildings. There was a great atmosphere. The current mayor, Solomon Levy, read out the Medallion of Honour Awards and the National Day Declaration. Then the red and white balloons were released and the Gibraltar Anthem was played.

After that, Radio Gibraltar broadcast live from the square playing music for the street party. And my camera batteries died, so no pix of balloons or partying people.

Maybe more later of fireworks or party-on.

Oh, and loved the No to Joint Sovereignty banner.










Fireworks. What is it with the camera settings? These were taken on Auto. I switched to Night and they were crap. New Year's Eve I even tried firework setting and that was the worst yet.





May write a comment on Clouds later about nationalism

Evening walk - and parrot talk

A good Sunday evening.

Out of the city walls through Prince Edward's Gate and heading off towards the Alameda Gardens.

The gate dates from 1790, and notice the sentry box on the left-hand side of the gate.



Not got very far before stopped by some Spanish-speaking guy in a car wanting to know how to get to the top of the Rock.

Well, it isn't too difficult, but he happened to be heading the wrong way to the route I would have chosen. Helpfully redirected him to retrace his steps in impeccable Spanish. P'ya. (phonetically) Actually should be "pa alla." - I think. "A la izquierda."

Then typically he twirled round in the middle of the road to clear off back up the Rock to find the easy route. Hope he enjoyed it.

Off to the Alameda Gardens.

Although it was warm, there was a breeze and lots of shade. Here is the pond with some huge fish and a tiny turtle (on the rock just above the ©).



And a longer shot of the pond with lots of green.



Next up, a bromeliad, unless anyone can tell me any different.



Highlight of the trip, a parrot - loro - who was happily perched on sign and chattering away to me.



And what beautiful red feathers in his tail.



Onwards and upwards and a misty view of Morocco in the distance.



Back home and papas (patatas) bravas for tea. This is a typical Spanish tapa although made differently in different regions and catering for local taste.



Chop potatoes into cubes and shallow fry in olive oil with some salt.

In separate pan, fry garlic, chillies, dried chilli powder/pimiento/paprika, and/or any other spices of choice, say half a chopped onion, and when the onion is soft, put in around half a tin of chopped tomatoes. I use organic.

When the two are ready, combine.

Serve with picante (hot and spicy) olives and a bread of choice. Today's was ciabatta.

Washed down with an Italian Chardonnay if anyone is interested.

A good end to a nice evening.

ETA: More of the same trip on Clouds tomorrow.

Losing your knickers

Always an embarrassing thing to do.

I found this pair deposited on my washing line.

So discretely left them on the noticeboard.

They were quite nice actually.

If you like multi-coloured knickers.

Strikes

The much-awaited reprieve from the strike at the border by the Police Nacionale has not happened.

The misinformation circulating around was that the police were going to take August off from their work-to-rule and this would ease the pressure at the frontier.

But cross-border workers are still facing delays of two or three hours to leave Gib every night, as the police check documentation and ID for everyone in a vehicle.

Apparently there have also been queues for pedestrians, as many workers are now leaving their cars at La Linea and walking across in the morning to avoid being late for work.

Luckily, touch wood, I haven't had to queue when I have crossed the border, but there again, I haven't been going at peak work-related times.

So at the weekend, I cruised merrily across without any delay.

Only to find the bus company was on strike. In Andalucía there is some odd rule about needing to provide a 25% service for strikes. So there was a bus the following morning at 7.15am, or there was one that night from Algeciras at 10pm which would have got me back too late to Málaga to get the last bus to my pueblo.

Wearily I turned round and trudged all the way back to the flat.

Partner said: "It wasn't destined to happen."

I had already gone back to the flat once after setting off because I had forgotten my keys. I'd arrived at the bus stop at exactly the same time as the bus and jumped on. Except I didn't have any sterling on me so had to pay in euros (which, for anyone who doesn't know about the rates in Gib, is dearer). Then I was sitting on the bus doing the double-check routine, passport, money (well euros anyway) and keys. No keys. I promptly jumped off the bus at the next stop, having paid a euro to travel a few yards. Damn. After that it was going to be quicker to walk to the frontier so I battled my way against all the tourists down Main Street. And on finding there were no buses, battled my way back against them.

Yesterday, I looked at the internet to see if there was any progress on the strike. Apparently there was going to be a meeting between the workers and management. I decided to wander over the border (needing a walk anyway), and see if there was any news at the bus station. No. Exactly the same. The really inconvenient 7.15am bus was still the only one of the day.

Did I need to buy a ticket in advance? I asked, thinking it might well be booked out.

No, said the ticket office man, there is no problem.

No, I thought, I'm hardly surprised. I hadn't even worked out what time I would have to get up, to wake myself up sufficiently to stagger down Main Street and across the border in time to get the bus.

Anyway, back to the bus strike. I see from a quick search today that the strike has now finished after more than six hours of intense negotiations, and a vote late last night to accept improved terms and conditions. The vote was 267 in favour of accepting the deal and 37 against.

According to Sur, the problems started when it was taken over by the British Company Doughty Hudson. Employees were unhappy with the terms and conditions and the health and safety practices.

The workers have accepted the offer of an extra 50 euros a month over the next two years, (30€ in 2009 and 20€ in 2010), a better deal for working Sundays and Bank Holidays, two days off a week, and a 1.5% cost of living rise.

The strike started last Wednesday (6 August) and has affected some 40,000 travellers a day. As well as me, of course.

The service should be back to normal between today and tomorrow.


Sources:
Yahoo! Finanzas (in Spanish)
Sur (in Spanish)
Sur in English

Dysfunctional .... and not another blog?

I have become dysfunctional.

This is as a result of leaving the embarrassing Gucci glasses behind at the finca in Spain.

The truth is that I do not feel as efficient in my (buy one) get one free pair. They are not bad, but they do not give me that forceful and efficient look.

I left the others behind because I decided to wear contact lenses for my trip back. So once I had put them in I promptly forgot to put my glasses in the travel bag.

Anyway, as I never intended this to be a blog about roadworks or glasses I have started a new blog because I don't have enough really.

It is fictional. Well, sort of fictional. It started off being based on someone, but my main character has morphed totally into a figment of my imagination.

So, if you are bored with glasses and roadworks (as dear reader, am I), check out Leonard's activities here. It's on the sidebar too. It is slightly off the wall, although maybe not to dog-bloggers. I have warned you.

Impressive

Having written about Señor Abusive and Señor Clueless I thought it would be good to redress the balance and write about PC Considerate.

There are a lot of road works at the moment in Main Street. Right now they have reached the bottom of our street. There is fencing between the roadworks and the narrow pavement.

Normally there is only just room for two people to pass closely and intimately on the pavement. Anyone who is in a rush, or who can't be bothered to wait for the window-shoppers, tends to nip into the road.

The other day I wandered out of the block to go to the shops. I had timed it very badly. There was a QUEUE. There was a long queue to go through the barricaded crossing on my street.

I should have looked out of the window, but I was hardly expecting a queue.

Anyway I dutifully joined the end of the queue, this being Gibraltar, we do queue.

As I looked ahead to see what the delay was, I saw three people in wheelchairs. And ahead of them all was a police officer, making sure that everyone coming in the opposite direction stood aside, either in a shop doorway or next to the fencing so that the people in wheelchairs could move along the narrow pavement without impatient people barging into them or blocking their progress.

And when they had passed the roadworks, I saw one of the people in the wheelchairs shaking hands and thanking the police officer for his time.

So in these days of rush, rudeness and abusiveness it was nice to see such thoughtful behaviour.

Why are some people so abusive?

It's very warm here. Too warm to rush anywhere.

I ambled into the bus station at La Linea. There was a Spanish guy wanting to go to Málaga.

First he went to the ticket office for the wrong company. Then when he got to the ticket office for the correct one, it had a closed sign. He looked impatiently at his watch. It was 3.30pm.

I - helpfully or interferingly depending on your point of view - said that the bus to Málaga didn't go until 5.45pm and the ticket office would probably open half an hour before that.

Then I read the notice, it said it would reopen at 3.30pm. And this guy was looking so annoyed. Like, this is Spain. Back at 3.30pm does not mean back at 3.30pm, it means back sometime after 3.30pm when I feel like it.

Suddenly the ticket office opened, a mere two minutes late. The Spanish guy asked something, I didn't hear what but he looked disappointed. He probably asked when the next bus was as he didn't believe the silly foreigner.

So then I told him he could get the direct bus from Algeciras and he would arrive in Málaga sooner. He looked terrifed. How far away is Algeciras? How do I get there?.

Er, about 25 kilometers, and you walk about ten yards from the ticket offices towards the buses, get on the bus at 4pm, and pay two euros. Hardly difficult.

Well how long will it take? About 40 minutes. And then you can get the direct bus at 5pm or 5.45pm.

He eventually processed all this and decided he would ask at the ticket office "just to make sure". Ie you are foreign and don't know what you are talking about.

So he asked. Well actually he was about to go to the wrong company yet again so I pointed him towards the right one. Unsurprisingly they told him exactly what I had said.

He explained to me that he was totally lost with buses as he hadn't been on one since he got a car eight years ago but sadly his car was broken down so he had to brave the world of public transport. Wow. What a protected and naive species you are.

I saw him again in Algeciras. Obviously we were in the same queue.

In front of me was someone who also wanted to go to Málaga. He wanted to get the 5pm bus. It was full (completo). He was not happy with this and told the ticket cashier and complained at her as though it was personally her fault.

She patiently explained that she had rung up for another bus, and if there was one available, then he could get on that, but she couldn't issue a ticket yet because she didn't know if it was coming. He would have to wait and risk it, or get a ticket for the 5.45pm.

Now what I don't understand is - these people are Spanish. Buses are often well used and if you really want to get a particular bus, why not buy your ticket in advance? You can all speak the language far better than me - one of you doesn't know how to buy a ticket and the other one abuses a ticket cashier because a bus is full. Dear me.

I made sympathetic noises to the cashier and booked a seat on the 5.45pm. When it arrived, I looked round for Señor Abusive and Señor Clueless. Neither of them were there. Obviously the extra bus did turn up after all. Must remember that for next time.

Not that 45 minutes made any difference to me. I got into Málaga, and the next bus according to my timetable was at 8.30pm. But there was one on the noticeboard to my nearby town at 8pm.

I wandered over to the bus on the off-chance. No point asking at the ticket office as there was a queue.

Hola, says me. Are you the directo? As you do in Spain because the driver and the bus are synonymous. No, he said. Oh very good, do you stop at my pueblo? Si. So I got me a ticket for my pueblo from the driver and got home half an hour earlier than planned which meant I also arrived in time for the supermarket.

A good journey. Always best to ask the right people the right questions. And no need to show disrespect for other people because you haven't planned your journey.

Denuncia

Just as a helpful tip.

To avoid trouble for yourself.

When you put up your really nice Spanish postbox, don't add your name and address to it.

All you are doing is giving someone ammunition to denuncio you for anything because you are providing your name and address.

This is not a good idea. All someone needs to denuncio you is your name and address.

Whoever delivers your post shouldn't need to see your name and address on the post-box anyway. They should know who you are and where you live.

Would you put your name and address on a post-box in the UK?

No. Because you just have a letter-box in the door and a house name/number.

Take care if you buy a house in Spain. I am writing this because someone British we know, who lives in Spain, has received a denuncia and doesn't even know why.

He needs to appear in a Spanish police station and answer the charge that he doesn't understand.

It also happens to our Spanish neighbours. Our neighbour out the back received a denuncia for her goats and chickens. Apparently she didn't have finca papers.

Our Spanish neighbours don't publish their names and some of them still get victimised. Keep your name to yourself.

Edited to add that a denuncia is a formal complaint to the local police which has to be investigated. I suppose the nearest English equivalent word is to denounce someone, but it doesn't really carry the same weight in English so everyone just tends to use the Spanish words.

Mad dogs and Englishwomen........

I needed to go into town to pay the irritating water bill. The only utility bill that needs to be paid at the water office and that I can't pay in a bank or a post office.

It being warm (30 plus degrees) and sunny, and me having to cart back a few things to Gib for Partner including his spray gun - but fortunately not the compressor, I decided to get the bus from the village.

But as the bus time drew nearer, I went off that idea. I was feeling particularly chilled and rushing for a bus didn't seem so appealing. What would be nice would be a leisurely wander down the dusty track, enjoying the countryside.

So off I went. Down the river bed which amazingly even had a trickle of water in it. Left onto the old railway line track. Past Greedy One. The big black horse with the fearsome teeth.

I like Greedy One because he is not a hypocrite. He does not come up for strokes or slop like that. He comes for food and if there is no food he is not interested. He was eating hay or whatever horses eat. He glanced up briefly, saw me, saw the total absence of carrots or apples and dismissed me with a flick of his ears. Back to the hay.

It was hot down the track. Sun blazing out of totally clear blue sky. But at least there was a breeze. My bag seemed to be getting heavier. The water office shuts at one, so because I'd not set off till noon, the leisurely wander wasn't quite so leisurely. More like a fast march. I began to think the bus might have been a better idea after all.

Anyway, the fast march worked well. Into water office, pay bill, and wait for the bus to Málaga. I sat there absolutely dripping sweat. I am surprised there wasn't a pool of water at my feet. I licked my lips. I tasted very salty. I should probably have gone and bought a bottle of water at this point but I really didn't feel like water swilling around in my empty stomach.

The bus arrived early. Not only did it arrive early, it left early. Unprecedented. Arrived in Málaga with enough time to go for a sandwich and a drink. Salad sandwich I thought, without yucky mayonnaise.

The good thing about Spain is that bars are usually just so flexible. If they have the ingredients and you want something they will make it. You need to know this though, and you also need to know what you can reasonably ask for.

So, although the bar had a load of sandwiches piled up, there was no salad one (with or without mayo). Maybe because salad ones would go soggy anyway. Or maybe not many people eat salad sandwiches - with or without tuna, chicken, ham. Anyway, it's on the menu, as are various salads so I asked if he could make me one.

Big smile. Of course he could. I don't want the mayo, but do you have anything else you could add like cucumber or onion? He looked very apologetic and said no, but then asked if I would like some green pepper as well. This sounded a fine sandwich. I went down the counter to get my drink. I decided some olives would be nice. I was starving. Gets a small bowl of olives.

Paid the bill. Normally if you ask for something to be excluded you don't get anything off the price, but sometimes they add extra stuff onto the sandwich. Asking for something different like peppers is borderline, depends on the bar and the staff. No extra charge for the green peppers. No charge for the olives. What a fine and very reasonably priced lunch.

The rest of the journey was uneventful but relaxing. I snoozed and gazed at the Mediterranean. Arrived at the flat about 7pm to find the two Sleeping Beauties (Partner and Dog happily snoring away together).

The next day I woke up feeling slightly groggy. No, it wasn't the sandwich. I hadn't got food poisoning. It wasn't the pasta and pesto that Partner had cooked on my arrival.

Eventually I twigged. It had been ages since I felt like that so it took a while to work it out. Too much sun in the heat of the day. No hat. No water on the walk. I should really know better. Maybe next time I will take the bus from the village.

Moral of story: Never, but never, disrespect the sun and the heat. Always take a hat and a small bottle of water.

A bottle of water

Went to the local shop the other day. Wanted some soft drinks. Fought my way into the shop past some very strong and warlike Scandinavians who had descended from a cruise ship.

Then fought my way to the fridge past two of the younger Viking warriors who were taking an inordinate amount of time to get a bottle of water.

Went to the till which involved weaving around eight of these fearsome people. Like I am tall with broad shoulders but I felt a tiny little wimp in the midst of these SuperPeople.

Hola, says me to shopkeeper.

Hi how are you? he responds.

Fine, thanks. You?

It takes the whole fucking family to buy one bottle of water, he said quietly. And rolled his eyes.

Que pases un buen día, says me, and walked out laughing. Well, when I had fought my way past the tribe of warriors.

A tale of two travellers

Summer is well and truly here now. The temperatures in Spain are well into the thirties and the beaches are packed with holidaymakers - Spaniards and foreigners alike.

Anyway because of the heat it is easier travelling in the late afternoon, and arriving in Spain/Gib in the evening.

So, I left Algeciras on the 17.45 bus. Estimated journey time, according to the timetable booklet, is 1hr 45 mins. I don't think it has ever done it in that time, it is nearer 1 hr 50 or 55. Anyway five or ten minutes doesn't make much difference to me.

The bus set off five minutes late and it didn't seem to be going quite as fast as they usually do. We got to Marbella after about an hour.

Just opposite me were a couple of English-speaking travellers. They had been chomping on their apples and chattering away all the way up.

When the bus stopped in the bus station, they asked someone getting off if we were in Málaga. He hesitated for a split second. He was Spanish but I don't think he had any trouble understanding. I think, a bit like me, he was more surprised that they had no idea where they were.

"No, Marbella," he answered. And got off the bus.

Maybe they didn't have any idea how long the journey was going to take. Maybe they didn't have a map and didn't know that Marbella was approximately half-way. Or that a bus would have to be seriously flying to travel the 140kms from Algeciras to Málaga in an hour.

They had clearly also missed the large lettering over the bus station that said ESTACION AUTOBUSES MARBELLA and CIUDAD DE MARBELLA. Always helpful to keep an eye on your surroundings I find.

As we set off again they leaned over to speak to me. Did I know where the train station was in Málaga, and was it near the bus station? Could they walk to the train station?

Yes, I did, and they were right next door to each other. Of course they could walk, it would probably be faster than taking a taxi. And cheaper obviously. I told them Málaga was the next stop and we would be there in about 50 minutes or so. I said I would point out the train station and show them where to go.

As we came into Málaga, one of them leaned over again, pointed at a shopping centre and asked if it was the train station. I suppose these days shopping centres and train stations can look similar, but in Spain, train stations (like bus stations) usually have the word ESTACION in fairly prominent letters somewhere on the outside. A useful word to learn when travelling around Spain and not too difficult or dissimilar to station.

"No, we're nearly there, I'll show you where it is," says me. "Oh, what time is your train?'

"Eight o'clock." Well, hahahahaha, how I did not laugh there and then I do not know. (It was now 7.50pm).

I tried very hard to think of a polite and not too upsetting way to tell them they weren't going to catch their train.

One of them said "She's going to tell us we're not going to catch our train."

I think I need to practise not displaying what I am thinking quite so obviously.

Turned out they were going to Madrid and missing this train would screw up all their connections.

"Have you got your ticket?"

Well, they had their EuroRail pass or whatever it is called, but they needed to go and get their reservation.

A couple of weeks ago, I was busy closing down the computer prior to leaving for the bus when an email came in, so I foolishly read it. And because of that, I nearly missed the bus.

The sender of the culpable email later patronisingly sent me a Top Tip - always expect the worst and leave sufficient time for unforeseen delays!

It sprung to mind immediately with the two travellers. And I thought about adding my own Top Tip. Always arrive at a bus/train station in Spain with at least half an hour to spare (assuming you haven't bought your ticket/reservation in advance), and if you don't know where you are going, make it an hour to spare.

I hope they got their train although the truth is, I would be very surprised if they did.

Travelling is not what it was. More people are doing it and there are so many delays for whatever reason. Best to enjoy it and not stress yourself out by setting an impossible itinerary.