Christmas

I used to love Christmas. Who didn't? Well people who got very little I suppose.

But I got loads. Loads and loads. There was no big family Christmas get together or meal or anything like that, sometimes just the two grandmothers were there, with my father drinking, in the hopes that eventually they would disappear in front of his eyes.

I loved waking up to my stocking so early in the morning. It was a large stocking and had lots and lots of goodies in it. It always had clementines and some new coins in the bottom. My godmother, an older cousin, had got some made for us all and it had my name on it. In glitter.

One year, I sprung my mother bringing it in, to place it on the end of my bed. I then realised Santa didn't bring my stocking but I knew he still came down the chimney to bring me all my presents.

He lined them down the staircase, all around the sitting room, in the hall, and - when I forgot to look in the dining room - my parents pointed out that he had put presents against all the walls in there.

Kind Santa. But when my parents knew that I had tumbled to the stocking wheeze they inadvertently let out that he didn't come down the chimney either.

That moment of disillusionment is pretty sad. There are others in life too, but no Santa ranks pretty highly.

We never got our tree early. We didn't do the tree up on Christmas Eve thing like my mother's family did, but it was always after their birthdays in mid December and usually bought on the last Saturday before Christmas.

We had an old (well, 1930s) house, so it was high enough for a big tree. The Saturday when the tree was bought, my mum and I would decorate the tree in the evening, with the record player playing our favourite Christmas carols.

All the precious and some very old and treasured ornaments were carefully hung. Most - rare - breakages were caused by wagging dogs' tails but not when we were decorating. Then the lights, the tinsel (which my mother loathed), and finally the lovely fairy at the top of the tree.

How I loved that night. Even taking it down by Epiphany wasn't sad because I could always look forward to next year. Next Christmas. There would always be one.

On Boxing Day, my mother would always give me an extra present. Christmas didn't end for me on Christmas Day - she made sure that the holiday and the giving extended. There was no let-down after Chrismas Day, there was something else to look forward to.

Many years later, Partner and I visited them in their new old bungalow (which all old people buy) at Christmas. No tree. No decorations. No interest in it. Christmas was always about giving their little girl what they had never had.

And me? Well I'm the same now with my minimalist non-existent Christmas. I have no kids, no parents, no family. What does that lovely Christmas of my childhood mean now? It went a long time ago. Not only that, but December brings back so many memories of my parents, their birthdays on consecutive days (just like mine and Partner's), the last time I saw my mum in December the year before she died, and my father, who was rushed into hospital on Christmas Eve just before he died shortly afterwards. I remember, too, that Boxing Day when I started my trek back to the UK to see my dying father for the last time. link to earlier blog post here

i would put up a tree if I had the space. I do like the trees. Even small ones can look so pretty. But otherwise? Christmas is a bit of an inconvenience because the shops are shut for too long.

Comares

Comares is on the roof of the world, or at least the roof of La Axarquia.

Some 735m high, it virtually teeters on top of a hill, inland from the coast about 25 kms. From all around you can see this fairy tale pueblo perching precariously on top of its hillside. Mountain would be a better word.

That's where we're heading. Up there.


Getting nearer to our destination.


Perching on top of the hill.


Looking down on the hills from our eyrie. We might as well be in a 'plane.


Looking across, still higher than they are though.


The population of Comares is officially less than 2000. Not surprisingly. Why anyone would want to live there is beyond me. It is an excellent visit for a touristy day out - quaint town, superb views, panoramic scenery - takes ages to get to, and miles off the beaten track. But that's Spain for you.

Our first visit there left me clinging onto the side of our trusty Santana Land Rover as we wound perilously ever and upwards towards the sky. Vertigo kicked in big time.

Partner helpfully pointed out that he had known someone else like me before. Seems our heads can't take in the ascent as rapidly as it is made. Figures. So he slowed right down and we crawled painfully up the never-ending hillside. Round and round and up and up and .... well you get the idea.

Eventually we arrived. Was I ever glad to fall out of the vehicle and hit terra firma. Even if I was worried about falling off the edge of it.

The pueblo is pretty. Usual quaint white town stuff. Winding Moorish streets, old castle and not much else. Oh, lots of pretty flowers outside peoples' houses which never seem to get nicked.

Pretty floral patios.


Up to the castillo.


Arty photo.


Looking back to the village from the castillo.


Looking across the hills from the castillo.


Early this year someone hid a geocache in the castle grounds. Did I really want to have a vertiginous experience to go all the way back up there just to find some tiny bit of treasure? Truth was, no. Especially when someone else got the so-called desirable First To Find. (ie the first person to find the new cache).

But then someone else hid one part way up the hill, and after a few days, still no-one had found it. As I said, Comares is hardly on the road to anywhere.

The pesky road had to be braved again. It wasn't worth it for one cache, but two - and a FTF? Sadly, yes. So off we embarked on the evil drive to the sky. But time does strange things to us. The evil drive was not so bad after all. In fact, I even looked out of the window. It wasn't as bad as I remembered and we chugged gaily upwards. I jumped out happily to find the first cache and was totally delirious to be the first to find, although not so delirious to discover there were no goodies in the tat treasure hidey thing.

Off we went to park at the edge of town to find the other one in the castle. This was a successful day was it not? Partner stayed at the horrendous mirador - my vertigo couldn't quite cope with that - while I skipped off happily around the windy streets saying hola to all and sundry.

My geocatzing dog at the mirador - appears to be asleep here. Five seconds later he wasn't when he spotted the cat under the car.


And in the distance - the sea.


And of course - I couldn't find it. I spent ages traipsing up and down and around the levels of the castle and got nowhere. I tried to look up the geocaching website on the mobile to check out the spoiler pic and couldn't get reception.

I went back to find Top Geocaching Partner. He refused to come, on the grounds there could be cats in the old castle area and Cat Chasing Dog would be On Safari. Cat Chasing Dog emphasised the point by promptly finding one under a car at the mirador, nearly pulling Partner on his back on the urgent cat safari. Daktari?

CCD and TGP stalked off haughtily back towards the cat-free vehicle area. And naturally promptly found another cat. Hey boys, why didn't you come to help me with the cache? There were less cats up there.

I went back up, on the now fruitless search. A total Did Not Find. Well no caches, but found - plenty of cats. The joys of geocatzing. So yet another detour up to the roof of the world is called for to find this dratted cache. Maybe next time I shall take a book, sit in the Landy with naughty Cat Chasing Dog, and let Top Geocaching Partner go and find it. That's assuming he can even find the castle.

The windy windy road down the hill.


A view of the cache spot - coming down to it.


One of soooo many hairpin bends.

Social calling

Our neighbours had a visitor the other day.

But it seemed they were out. Sad monkey ....


.... so he climbed down the drainpipe and off he went - to drive or to walk though?

Booties from Bourgeois Boheme

A quick post-script to the last post.

My new booties arrived today from Bourgeois Boheme.

They are excellent and just what I wanted.

Very helpful and prompt service - order to delivery from UK to Gib achieved in four days. Very good. Especially as it is raining here today.

I was so pleased I ordered another two pairs in slightly different designs. A woman needs a lot of boots in wet weather.

Gib tales (3) Tax free zone - and dog coats

Gibraltar is a VAT free zone. VAT for non-British readers is value added tax, the equivalent of Spanish IVA, or basically a sales/service tax.

Por eso, or rather, for this reason, fags, spirits and petrol are dirt cheap here. Well, petrol isn't as dirt cheap as it was, but it's still cheaper than it is in Spain.

Most weekends Spaniards happily cross the border to fill up with all the above. I think perfume is probably included in the list of cheap buys too but that isn't one of my addictions. Neither are any of the others I hasten to add.

Now, because we are VAT free, this means that when ordering goodies from the good old UK - because there is a limited choice of shopping in a population of 30,000 people - we should not be charged VAT.

I've primarily bought Land Rover stuff, books, small parts, larger parts and never had a problem. I've also bought boots and shoes from the excellent Ethical Wares (of which more on another post), again totally VAT free.

Although we don't have to pay VAT, we do have to pay import duty on some products, the rate is either 6 or 12 %, either way, it's less than 17.5% VAT, going up to 20% as of next year I understand.

So, I was singularly displeased when trying to buy a dog coat for my rather large dog who gets very wet going out in sub-tropical rain, to find two companies refusing to deduct the VAT.

Pippa is getting on in years and basically we don't want him getting cold and wet in his old age and getting poorly. So I looked at some pretty expensive and good quality coats.

One of my dog friends gave me a couple of suggestions and some info about coats she had seen, which I very much appreciated.

I looked at and contacted some sites to check if they realised Gib was VAT free. I quote part of the response from Canine Spirit:

Unfortunately, because of the paperwork and time involved we only do VAT free shipments for large group orders valued at over £500.

We do ship internationally though - the postage is dependent on the final order value but ranges between £8-£12.

I hope this is helpful

No, it is not remotely helpful. Why should I pay import duty and VAT because you can't be arsed to deduct it? Other companies can. So despite the good looking coat, that one was a no-no.

Next up, Muddypaws, which sell the very up-market and designerish Hurtta jackets. Mmmmm - what a large furry dog would really like very much.

And what did they have to say?

We would charge £6.95 for delivery to Gibraltar, but unfortunately we are unable to provide a VAT free price as our systems are unable to process and we end up losing 17.5% to the government (sorry!)

What sort of reply is that might I ask? Even if they were sorry. Apart from one that does not get my custom.

I have just dealt with another very accommodating firm today called Bourgeois Boheme (yeah it probably suits my image down to my soon-to-be Bourgeois Boheme bootily-clad feet) who said - let us know if you have any problems with inputting the forms and we will change it manually for you. So why can't exclusive Hurtta-selling Muddypaws do that?

Back to the dog coat saga. I mailed doggiecoats.co.uk and received a prompt reply the same day with a VAT free price and a quote of £3.40 for postage.

Hello! other firms out there. You are charging between twice and four times as much for delivery of a dog coat. You refuse to deduct the VAT saying you have to pay it or can't be bothered with the paperwork.

What on earth is wrong with people? Is making a living so easy that you can just ignore potential repeat sales?

We are well pleased with Pippa's dog coat. After collecting it from the PO today, I have ordered another one. I wish doggiecoats.co.uk much success and highly recommend them for the quality of their product, prompt response to emails, and for not charging me 17.5% tax that I do not need to pay.

Pippa modelling his new coat, size 28 in in olive green for those of you interested in details.


He's not happy with being a fashion model, perhaps we need to wait for the rain.

Gib tales (2) - Call me

Let's look at public utilities in Gib - gas, electricity, water and telecommunications. No this is not boring, this is very relevant to today's current news post!

First things first. There is no natural gas, the only gas is bottled, ie butane. With the majority of people living in flats, often without lifts, electricity tends to be the most common energy supply used in homes. Restaurants, bars and clubs tend to use gas however.

Electricity is provided by Gibraltar's own power station, and a new one is set to come on stream in 2011. Gibraltar Electricity Authority (Gibelec) is responsible for generation, distribution and supply of electricity. Electricity is one of the products in Gib that is relatively expensive.

Water is perhaps the most interesting of the utilities. Courtesy of the Gib govt web site:

There are no permanent natural water supplies in Gibraltar, main sources used to be the water catchments on the rock face,

Old water catchments...


which collected rainwater and supplied the reservoirs hollowed out inside the Rock, and wells on the sandy plain to the north. The main supply is currently provided by an efficient number of distillers, distilling sea water located at the North Mole.

Water is provided by AquaGib and there are two parallel supplies - one of distilled seawater for drinking water, and one of seawater for such things as toilets, fire hydrants, and various other non-drinking water supplies. The water supply is worth a post in its own right, but not for today.

Call me ....

Telecommunications. The major provider in Gibraltar is Gibtelecom. Yes everything here does include 'Gib' in the name. It's still known locally as Gibtel which was one of its predecessors.

Gibtelecom has a turnover of around £31.5M. It is owned jointly by the government of Gibraltar, and Telekom Slovenije, which bought a 50% shareholding in 2007.

There are almost 90 fixed lines per 100 population, and Gibtelecom also provides mobile and internet services. More than 80% of households have an internet link.

Of course telecommunications has been a source of controversy between Spain and Gibraltar. Although Gib was allocated its own International Direct Dialling (IDD) code back in the 70s Spain refused to acknowledge it.

When IDD was introduced in Spain, Gib was included as part of the Spanish numbering system, with a code of 9567. Even a few years ago, we were ringing this code from Spain.

In a nutshell this meant that only 30,000 numbers could be dialled from Spain and led to a shortage of new numbers that could be allocated to Gib residents. And at the same time, international callers using cheap rates that went via Spain, meant that callers either heard the Gib number didn't exist, or if they were connected - Telefonica (Spanish company) kept the profits.

And as for mobiles. Well, Gibtelecom was prevented from roaming agreements with Spanish operators.

Same old story?

The Cordoba Agreement of 2006 removed these restrictions (and included a whole load of other stuff) and it finally came into force in 2007. So now Gib really really has its own IDD and we can even get roaming in Spain. Note when roaming in Spain, please choose any other operator than grasping Telefonica.

Today's news story.

Well only that Señor Sanchez wants a piece of Gib's arse via the telecoms industry.

According to the Gib Chronicle:

Having watered down his controversial plan to charge visitors to the Rock, Alejandro Sánchez, the mayor of La Linea, has now set his eyes on another element of the Gibraltarian economy in his effort to find revenue streams for his cash-strapped town.

The mayor said he would ask Spain's Ministry for Foreign Affairs and its Finance Ministry for details on the income generated in Gibraltar by online gaming.

 The mayor said this business would not have been possible without the Cordoba agreement, which radically expanded the number of phone lines available to Gibraltar. He also noted that fibre optic lines linking Gibraltar to the world run through La Linea.

With that in mind, the mayor wants a slice of the action.

"La Linea wants to know what it is getting in return, given that without those cables passing through our town, that business would not exist today," the town council said in a statement at the weekend.


No doubt Señor Sánchez has taken into account the income taken by Telefonica, resulting from the restrictions previously placed on Gibraltar by Spain ?

Why on earth is anyone claiming financial compensation for some other country's industry just because something goes through their land/air space/sea space (sore point that one)? Oh. Because they are short of money. And Gib is a profitable on-line gaming centre. So what? Nothing to do with La Linea. At all.

And, regarding yesterday's post about what is anyone in the UK actually doing for Gibraltar? Well it seems William Hague gave a short speech at the Tory Party Conference saying that in his election campaign he had stated he he would not let Gibraltar down, and that now he was in government he intended to defend Gib's interests strongly.
Hmm hope so.

Territorial waters dispute soon. Honest.

Gib tales (1)

Here is the first in a new series of posts about Gibraltar for my friends who may not know much about the place. And anyone else who is interested.

When I first arrived 14 years ago on holiday I knew two things - 1) that it was British, and 2) that my father spent some time here when he was in the Royal Navy. Oh, and that there were wonderful apes/monkeys - correctly speaking, monkeys - Barbary Macaques.

Monkey outside the tax office - don't think they have to pay taxes though...


So the format of these posts (if they ever get past this first one) is that there will be a few facts about Gib, followed by a news story/current event.

Here we go with a few of the basic facts.

Gibraltar is a British Overseas Territory, a former Crown Colony. Here is Wiki's quick summary:

The British Overseas Territories are fourteen territories of the United Kingdom which, although they do not form part of the United Kingdom itself, fall under its jurisdiction.They were acquired during the time of the British Empire and have not become independent or ceded to another country. The name "British Overseas Territory" was introduced by the British Overseas Territories Act 2002, and replaced the name British Dependent Territory, which was introduced by the British Nationality Act 1981. Before 1981, the territories were known as colonies or Crown colonies.

and there is more info about the territories here. Britain retains responsibility for foreign policy and defence (hang onto this point, it is important).

People from Gibraltar are Gibraltarians. English is the official language but locals also speak Spanish and Llanito. Do not expect to find a little colony of Brits here.

The Gibraltar government is elected by Gibraltar residents. The current party in power is the Gibraltar Social Democrats (GSD), led by Peter Caruana, who is the Chief Minister. The next election is due in 2011.

It is NOT an island - a common misconception - but is connected to the Iberian peninsula by a narrow isthmus, with the border town of La Linea. It is about three miles long by 3/4 of a mile wide, so its overall area is approx 2 1/4 square miles. The population is around 30,000 people.

Gibraltar is the nearest airport in the world to its city. Coming across the frontier into Gib currently involves driving, cycling, or walking across the airport runway. When planes are due to land/take off, the route across the airport is closed leading to queues and delays.

Runway - and past that, La Linea, and Spain. (For the pedants I had better quickly add that La Linea is actually past the rather nice MOD properties and Western Beach. Spain begins at the built-up bit).



Thousands of cross-border workers - from Spain - cross the frontier every day for higher wages than they can get in Spain, (assuming they can currently even get a job in Spain), and to take money out of Gib. Figures range from between 4000 workers to 12000. The truth is probably at the lower end for legitimate employees, but just add on all those people working on the black, mmmm, easily near the top figure.

Some important dates in Gib's history are:

711 - conquered by Muslims

1309 - taken by Spanish

1333 - surrendered to a Muslim siege

1462 - recaptured by Spain

1704 - taken by an Anglo-Dutch fleet as part of the Spanish war of succession

1713 - Treaty of Utrecht - Spain cedes Gibraltar to Britain in perpetuity

Onto this post's current news issue, which has been rumbling on for some time now.

The proposed toll

The mayor of La Linea, Alejandro Sanchez, has proposed a €5 toll each way for some people to enter and leave Gibraltar. As the stories change virtually every week, it is difficult to say who would be included and excluded.

Residents of La Linea would almost certainly be excluded. Included? ... Gib residents? Tourists? Spanish residents from San Roque? Algeciras? Sevilla? Madrid?

It seems, according to most local newspapers, that the coffers of the La Linea Ayuntamiento (town council) are rather bare. To the extent that council employees have not been paid for some weeks and have been staging strikes outside the town hall.

Well where better to go than to hit rich Gibraltar? Huh?

1) Is there anywhere in Europe where you have to pay to cross a frontier? Remember the Europe of free movement ?

2) All Gibraltarians are not rich. Jobs are hard to find (often done cheaper by someone who doesn't live in Gib and working on the black) and the cost of living is higher than in Spain. Unless you smoke and drink spirits of course, in which case Gib is paradise. But unemployment benefit in Gib is not a patch on Spanish benefit. What do Spaniards get? Some 70% or so of their last wage? £80 a week here for a married couple. For 13 weeks. Not for a couple of years like the Spanish system (wonders why Spanish coffers are slightly empty?)

3) What is everyone doing about it? Caruana? Our MEPs? Giles Chichester? Trevor Colman, Earl of Dartmouth? Ashley Fox? Julie Girling? Graham Watson?

Well the three Tories - Chichester, Fox and Girling have at least said something. A combined effort of writing to British Foreign Secretary William Hague, EU Commission President José Manuel Barosso (Portuguese), and dear Señor Sanchez.

And the result so far?

The Ayuntamiento de Andalucía and the Spanish government in Madrid have said this proposed toll is illegal. And they can't actually do anything about it as it hasn't happened or words to that effect. Much the same from the EU. Not sure what William Hague has done (his website is rather bare on his Gib efforts, somewhat like his head, oops not fair that one) or whether Señor Sanchez ever responded to Ms Girling.

So where are we? Not knowing what is going on basically. Now Señor Sanchez has come up with a crafty little wheeze. He is considering fiddling with two routes in and out of Gib, one toll-free - and the other - the toll route of course.

Oh and the Mayor of La Linea thinks the entry charge for the Upper Rock national park in Gibraltar is illegal. Hello, Señor Sanchez. This is not a toll to cross the border to a foreign country to go to our homes. This is an entry charge for a nature reserve. Not heard of that before? Nor is it any of your business what the Gib government does within Gibraltar.

Gibraltar is not a nature reserve. Or a theme park. We don't deserve to be charged to go in and out of the place we live. And neither do the people who want to visit Gibraltar, or the cross-border workers who come here every day. Or even the Spaniards who regularly come here to fill up with cheap fuel, tabs and booze - or is that the problem too? Possibly spending money in Gib rather than La Linea? Go fill your coffers elsewhere Señor.

Next post - territorial waters dispute.

And you thought living in Gib was an idyllic peaceful place in the sun?

Grapes - and anis .....

'Catalina, Catalina,' shouted José. Which invariably means there is some free food in the offing. It was grapes from his daughter's finca.

It took me by surprise the first time our Spanish neighbours started giving us food.

Not just fresh food - but even cooked meals, if the family didn't eat it all - we got the leftovers. I felt like I was on the receiving line in a soup kitchen. OK so I haven't done soup kitchens but I have had the free hand-outs at the Krishnas. Fortunately, unlike Krishna food, the Spanish food from next door wasn't the same every day and eventually I got used to it and started to enjoy the novelty of someone providing me with free, fresh and tasty meals.

It's not just our immediate neighbours either. Because we live in a small community people regard each other as neighbours when they live a few streets - or more - away. And when there is a glut of veg, the Spanish don't want it to go to waste so huge bags of food are liberally handed out. Well, only to people they like I suppose. Artichokes, cucumbers, cabbages, courgettes, tomatoes, onions, aubergines, broad beans, runner beans - whatever is the crop at the time.

But like everywhere, the economy is on a downturn and people are struggling. So the freebies don't happen too often these days.

What to do with a few kilos of grapes though? Partner doesn't like fruit, and I eat it for breakfast sometimes - but not that many grapes. Even though they were Moscatel grapes. He came up with a bright idea. At New Year, Spaniards have a custom of trying to eat 12 grapes before the 12 midnight chimes have finished. They also drink the odd few glasses of cava but that part isn't relevant for this.

So grapes matured in anis are a traditional Christmas/New Year thing. Our neighbours usually given us some every Christmas in a glass with the accompanying liquid. They invariably do it early in the morning so it basically blows our heads off for the rest of the day.

Off we went to buy the bottle of anis. Most makes of anis are sweet but there are a couple of dry ones. Anis de Mono is our poison of choice.

i washed the grapes, and filled the jar. A whole bottle of anis went into the grape jar!!!!!!!!

They plumped up in no time, swelling out with the anis. After a couple of days, I had to try one. Yummy. Of course. I decided to spoon a little liquid into my teacup which I was eating them in (run out of bowls - all in the dishwasher).

Wait!!!! Where is that potent incredibly strong grapey anisy liquid? Not there. Just some watery nothing in particular. All the anis had magically transferred itself to the grapes. How could it do that? More to the point, how come when my neighbour dished up grapes and liquid - it tasted like pure alcohol?

Got it. My crafty - and generous - neighbour wasn't really giving us the left over dregs from the fermenting grapes. She had topped up our glasses from a brand new bottle. No wonder we always felt rat-arsed.





The jar got topped up with more grapes on our next visit :) and the left overs were given to the chickens who seemed very happy. No chickens were fed grapes with anis, I add hastily.

The yellow buoy

It was there bobbing in the distance. Not bobbing very much because the sea was so tranquil.

Alluring, enticing, and saying 'Swim to me.'

But I didn't. Apart from anything else it was some time since I had been swimming, and although confident enough in a pool, the sea is another matter. The 'beach' where we live in Spain is shingly and drops sharply as soon as you enter the sea. One meter knee height, two meters thigh, three waist and four shoulders. After that you can't put your foot on the bottom.

Personal survival medals, life-saving bronze medallion, long distance certificates mean nothing if you are caught in the sea. Cramp? Heart attack? Stung by one of the summer shoals of Medusa (large jellyfish) ?

So I looked at it longingly. And swam part way out, further than anyone else had gone that morning so that was good enough.

And then, the German (?) couple started to swim. They went as far as I had gone. They went further. They swam to MY buoy. They turned round and swam to the next one. Then they came back.

It was no good, I had to get there too. But not that day. Not even that week.

The water is well warm in August. The next time we went, I swam lazily around enjoying the wonderful waves swooping me up and down, and being able to float on my back without moving a finger.

That yellow buoy was still there. I needed to get a bit nearer. Improve my distance. I swam leisurely towards it. There were people playing around on an inflatable near to me. Suddenly the buoy was nearer. I put on a spurt, but then, he just remained there, laughing and taunting. And receded.

This wasn't good enough. I could reach him. I wasn't tired, I was enjoying the swim, and I needed to reach him now. I had to achieve the swim. There was no-one around any more. The inflatables had gone. Partner was a million miles away - or might as well have been - still watching me from the shore. I had no idea how deep the water was - but does that matter?

The yellow buoy smiled at me and then he was within reaching distance. I swam up to him, touched him lightly as though it was the other end of the pool, and turned around to head for shore.

Swimming in a straight line was not an option. Even though the sea was relatively calm, there was still a current. I could have gone with the flow, and ended up walking up the beach. Easier to swim slightly against it and keep focussing on my target. The large volleyball posts just behind Partner.

I tried to ensure I emerged out of the water in a suitable Ursula Undress fashion and wandered nonchalantly back to my towel. Not tired, not anything, apart from pleased and having had the best swim for years.

I didn't intend to do it again. I was happy enough I had achieved my goal. But the next time I got in the water, the yellow buoy was enticing me again. 'Come here. Swim to me.' So I did.

And it was much easier, I wasn't worried there was no-one around, I hadn't noticed any jellyfish, and it was such an irresistible experience.

It was a good break and we enjoyed it. As some of you know, the journey back wasn't quite so good. Maybe I will write about that, but later. For today, the nice things in life.

Some pix of fun in the sun....

Theft - Headlong - The White Tiger

Being in Spain - in my internet free zone at home - means lots of time to read.

So, I had a nice Peter Carey book. It was called 'Theft: a love story' (2006) and described variously as a tale about art (and art dealers), scams, relationships - and apparently a story that would make the reader laugh.

Well, although I enjoyed it, as I enjoy all Carey novels, I didn't find it at all funny. Sad and immoral but not funny. Perhaps I've lost my sense of humour.

But having read that, it reminded me of another book I had bought some time ago, one about art history.

I searched through all four bookcases - but could I find it? No. So after repeatedly looking in them all over again, I finally found it hiding at the back of a cupboard - which also has books in it - four bookcases naturally not providing enough space so other furniture has been appropriated for books.

Michael Frayn's Headlong (1999), and short listed for the Booker Prize in that year. I remembered the general plot, but not the detail, so happily sat down to plough through it again.

Plough through it was the word. I enjoyed it the first time around, but was I ever fed up this time with reading about Breughel and iconography and iconology. Or was it iconoclasts? How to ruin a decent plot with really too much academic/intellectual content. Or maybe once bearable maybe enjoyable, yes, but - never again.



Anyway, having finished with art - history and dealers and crazy relationships - onto a totally different book. The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, (2008) and a Booker prizewinner. Yeah, ok, I do end up reading Booker nominated or winning novels.

It was a good read. Very black humour and totally amoral and utterly enjoyable. Try it. Probably the best of the three.

Round the town and down the coast

No history today - but some urban and coastal walks.

There are quite a few geocaches in the Rincon de la Victoria/La Cala del Moral area. They are all easy to get to and easy to find, and involve a shortish but pleasant walk.

First at Rincon is the Casa Fuerte de Bezmiliana, which dates from the second half of the eighteenth century and was built as part of the coastal defence system in the area. This also included the nearby Torre de El Cantal, which I mention below.

Nowadays it hosts exhibitions, and other cultural activities and provides a pleasant place to wander in the centre of busy Rincon.

Fortress at Rincon



Moving onto another urban area - La Cala del Moral, somewhere we've driven through but never stopped. This was a nice easy multi-cache which started at the church, then visited a tranquil plaza, and ended at the spectacular fountain which marks the entrance to La Cala.

Church


Fountain (trip to the top was FAR too high up!!)


The remaining two caches were posted by the same family, and are within easy walking distance of each other on the limestone promontory of El Cantal. This is between Rincon and La Cala, and underneath are the famous Treasure Caves (visited via Rincon).

We visited the Treasure Caves years ago, and we've been through Rincon and La Cala so many times, but I never knew this promontory existed - it's quite well hidden from the road - and the walkway is an absolute gem.

The short promenade was converted from the old railway line a few years ago and is cut deep into the cliff and has three spectacular tunnels. But there is also a cliff top walk - so you can take the cliffs one way and return on the promenade. The railway line was built in the early 20th century and ran from Málaga to Torre del Mar, and was then extended up into the hills to Ventas de Zafarraya. It seems Spain had their own era of Beeching cuts - it was dismantled in the sixties.

This was such a brilliant walk with wonderful views. Finding pots of tat treasure is fun, but what really makes geocaching worthwhile is getting out to places you wouldn't otherwise visit. El Cantal is definitely one of my favourite cache spots. Thanks to the SanBa family for showing us this absolutely beautiful location.

La Torre de El Cantal


Looking down on the walk


Don't know how I made it over this bridge - looked full of holes from underneath


Gone fishin' ?


The beautiful promenade


... and again ...


Oh for a swim!


Pausing before entering one of the three impressive tunnels


See how the tunnel was carved out of the rock?


And back around down to the beach


Oh, this must have been tea !! Or supper, or dinner or whatever you want to call it. Anyway, a perfect avocado.

Carteia

First - congratulations to Spain on your deserved win and your first World Cup. May you have many more successful tournaments.

No more football. From Spain's glory of today to part of its glorious and spectacular past a few thousand years ago at Carteia - one of the most impressive archaeological sites I have seen for some time.

When a new geocache appeared a few miles away just over the border at an archaeological site, we decided to go and explore. Carteia is only open from Wednesday to Sundays, 10-2pm, so Wednesday morning saw us arrive at the car park shortly after 10am.

I wandered through the gate looking for somewhere to pay. There was no-one around so I walked into a building. 'Hola, buenos dias,' I said to the air. There was a reply and a smiling man came out of the back.

'Hay que pagar?' I asked. No, he said. It's free. Oh goodie. But as I was walking out he called me back. It turned out it was a conducted tour and the next one was at 11am so we would have to wait. Oh well. I asked for a leaflet about the site and took it outside to read.

Sitting on the bench, I realised that if it was a conducted tour, the geocache was obviously outside the site, not inside, so we might as well go and look for it while we waited for the tour.

I went off to find the man to tell him we would be back for 11am but he had disappeared. Then he reappeared just as suddenly - telling me to wait - and off he went again. Back he came and told us to follow him. So we did.

Next, he jumped into one of those golf buggy things, and told us to sit on the back. We did that too. Then he set off at a roaring pace and I nearly fell off. Note to anyone ever getting on the back of one of those - hold on for dear life. They are very bumpy. In comparison they make a Land Rover look like a Rolls Royce. I know what a Rolls Royce is like having been given a lift some 40 miles down the M1 in one.

Our transport


Suddenly we stopped. Our guide turned round to us, and told us that we needed to imagine what the area was like nearly 3000 years ago - without the oil refineries, the electricity station, and all the rest of the modern development.

In the 7th century BC, the Phoenicians settled on the nearby Cerro del Prado. Some three centuries later, their descendants established a new settlement at Carteia, on the promontory next to the river Guadarranque with total strategic control across the Straits of Gibraltar.

Carteia's expansion came when Rome defeated Carthage in the Punic Wars, and the Romans took over the settlement, constructing the typical features of a Roman city - the forum, a temple, the baths, the wide streets, shops and houses.

The Roman soldiers married local women, but neither they nor their children were recognised as Roman citizens. Determined to seek a solution to this problem, Carteia sent an envoy to Rome, and by 171 BC, Carteia was granted the status of free colony, the first one outside Italy.

With the fall of the Roman Empire, Carteia was occupied by the Visigoths (6th century AD), the Arabs (8th century AD) until finally, in the 14th century, it was taken by the troops of Alfonso XI of Castille for Spain.

Approach to the Roman and Punic part of the site


Steps to the forum


The site of the Roman temple surrounded by the later Visigoth necropolis


One of the fresh water wells used by the inhabitants of the settlement


The Roman baths


The 16th century Torre Rocadillo


The location of the WWII gun


The tour round the site goes chronologically, starting with the exterior Carthaginian walls and ending in the 20th century with gun batteries from the Second World War pointing towards Gibraltar.

Our personal tour - just the two of us - was around 40/45 minutes, but normally (not including the buggy ride) you should allow around an hour.

If you are interested in archaeology and are anywhere between Gibraltar and Algeciras, it is well worth the trip.

Getting there

By car
If you are driving from Gibraltar, take the road to San Roque and after Campamento, turn off to Puente Mayorga. Follow the road to the end of the village and then over the narrow hump back bridge that crosses what looks like a Dutch canal. Keep following the road through the oil refinery along the coast until you reach the signs for Carteia.





By bus
Take the Yellow Line bus from San Roque. Bus times that fit in with site opening hours are 10am and 12noon. Return journeys from Carteia are at 12.20 and 18.05. Not sure what you would do until 18.05. Sit on the beach?

Oh and we found the cache easily.

Links

Tourist information from the San Roque council

Bus times between San Roque and Carteia