Got up and went to the tourist bureau to find out about the fare to Centa, Spanish Morocco. The boat wasn't leaving until 7pm so we went to Gibraltar and then back to Algeciras to pack and back again to Gibraltar to leave our luggage with the American Express correspondent and Pat’s watch to be cleaned. When we went back to the border at Algeciras, we discovered that we were allowed only three crossings in three months and we were on our third and last one in two days. That was terrible news because our luggage was still on the Rock. Fortunately we discovered a very inconvenient way out. We had to take the ferry from Algeciras to Gibraltar and, if you take the ferry, you can cross as many times as you wish. Rather stupid, but that’s the way it is. By 7pm we had everything together and drove Louie [the car] on to the ferry to Centa. We decided to remain in him with our stuff since there were so many people wandering around. Got to Centa around 8:30 or 8:45. Had one hell of a time finding a place to stay and what we found was awful
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Dede, Judy and the monkey on the Rock of Gibraltar
We had to pass through half a dozen customs offices and across the runway of an airstrip to get to Gibraltar. Then drove down the Europa Road half way around the rock to the light house, then back to St Michaels Cave. It was full of stalagtites and stalagmites, eerie organ music and water dripping everywhere. From there we walked on up to the top of the Rock where we could look on both sides. It is really big rock! From there we descended 365 very steep steps to the apes den where a monstrous little monkey came over, stole Pat's cigarette case and promptly began eating it, then threw it over the side. From there we went to the upper gallery which is a long hall in the rock with guns placed in holes about 100 feet apart, making it possible to see both sides of the peninsula and pick off approaching ships. We got up and found that it was snowing – of all things! So we decided to head to Malaga and warmer weather then return to Granada to see the Alhambra later. On the way we drove through a place on the Costa del Sol called Torremolinas. It had the most fantastic hotels. Costa del Sol makes the French Riviera look shabby It is beautiful. The views are breathtaking. We had no idea where we were going to stop for the night, since it was one of those spur of the moment things. So we ended up in Algeciras rather than Gibraltar. We got up to a very gray day and ventured out only to find that everything was closed. This was because it was the Saint’s Day for the Patron Saint of Granada. We drove to Cartija and even the monastery was closed, so we went on to Socramonte, the gypsy district. It was so spooky that we decided to just spend the rest of the day in our Hotel and hope for better weather tomorrow. Read The Stranger by Camus and started A Nation of Sheep. |
A daily diary of a journey in 1962. Please post comments about where you were then on the Background page.
1962 was pivotal. This is the background:
It was a year colored by the Cuban Missile Crisis, an escalating involvement in Vietnam, the Berlin Wall and the Cold War with Russia, Civil Rights issues, a nascent space program, Nelson Mandela in prison, Betty Friedan's, The Feminist Mystique, the Beatles, Rolling Stones and the death of Marilyn Monroe. Archives
May 2011
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