If, as they say, one's perception of time lies halfway between reality and expectation, then my perception of Gibraltar lay part way between reality and, well...reality. Let me explain.
View across the Strait of Gibraltar to north Africa from the the top cable car station, Upper Rock Nature Reserve.
Climbing the Mediterranean Steps climbed steeply near the top of my bucket list sometime in my early twenties following a visit with my husband's maternal grandmother. After Scrabble and tea one afternoon at her Calgary home she brought out a photo album from her younger days tracking her and her husband's journey along the shores of the Med, so-called superhighway of the Ancient World. It was a point of pride for her that despite her age and physical fitness at the time, she had climbed the sometimes sheer and exposed stairway built by the British military to allow access to their varying defence posts on what's fondly called 'The Rock'—that last outcropping of land along the Spanish coastline extended like an outstretched palm to what seems within a hair's breadth of North Africa. And while her discussion was tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia given the recent death of her husband, she chuckled roguishly about counting the number of steps; an exercise I unfortunately forgot until midway down.
Jet-skiers round the peninsula. Photo taken from the Mediterranean Steps, Upper Rock Nature Reserve, Gibraltar.
Thus, when in Granada in the south of Spain for a week, making the day trip with a rental car seemed a must. Admittedly, it took my husband and I hours to get there, and then the lineup at customs was atrocious—we almost regretted the trip. Our Lonely Planet guide to Spain provided a lukewarm review at best (in contrast to Adam's grandmother): focus oscillated between 'creaky' seaside hotels with 'stuffy naval prints' and British memorabilia, or stodgy 'pub grub' (I take no credit for that ghastly nomenclature—the reviewer clearly held Spanish sympathies.) Upon initial arrival at the top cable car station, we saw a Barbary Macaques (apparently, they'll leave Gibraltar when the British finally do—again, see aforementioned LP reviewer) steal a woman's purse, relieve it of its contents including her passport, and then trash a man's designer glasses, all in the span of thirty seconds. It took a bit of doing to find the Steps. Then came the reward of views along a limestone hewn path that even the reviewer admits were 'spectacular'.
At the time I was thrilled with the Steps, and less so with the Town—now it all seems a wonderful package. Seaside fish n' chips followed by a lengthy hike to burn off those calories, who wouldn't want to spend an afternoon that way! Just goes to show that what's reality for some may not be to another, and perception—overtime—can meet expectation.
NOTES
Save your feet: Excellent and very different views are had from riding the cable-car and/or taking the Steps. Try alternating one route for your trip up the Rock, and another for the trip down: your feet and wallet will thank you!
One of the famous (or possibly, infamous?) Barbary macaques that inhabit 'The Rock' drinks from a fountain.
Viewpoint at the Upper Rock Nature Reserve.