My ears are still ringing from the booming blues as I head home across Casemates Square. It's midnight and the last throes of our hot and steamy summer are hanging in the air. The youngsters are just starting to head out for one last fling before they go away to university in England. So, I segue from the blues playing at the Lord Nelson to being serenaded by these creatures of the night calling their lust to each other in the darkness. The women look beautiful each one an exotic flower seeking pollination, wearing flowery skirts so short they should be called napkins. The men so handsome everyone of them a King Bee, delightfully long & lean in their low cut jeans showing off their briefs.
My mind is numb from work and my body tired. All day we didn't stop shuttling people up to the top. The line stretching right across the parking lot with a waiting time of two hours. Gibraltar was filled to capacity, three cruise liners were in port bringing over 6,000 people from different parts of the world to our little town. Then there were all the others who had come across the frontier from Spain by coach, car and foot. This multitude all heading towards our Main street and the upper Rock!
As I pass through the ancient tunnel gates which still guard the entrance to the city square. The memory of the queue shuffling slowly forward is still flickering in my eye. An endless stream of humanity like Fritz Lang's gray workers in Metropolis heading towards the elevators to begin their shifts. The difference being these guys are on vacation and are wearing colors not seen in nature. All day: I'd take off the rope and start counting as they went by One, two, three...till I stopped at 24 souls. Souls? Yes, because getting into a cable car is a matter of faith. Those of you who snicker are welcome to join me in a steel can some 14 feet long, 6 feet wide and 8 feet tall which is about to be taken up some 1400 feet by a cable. Then everyone has faith, even those with fear have faith...in their fears. I have faith in the technology...mostly. Except, for the times I don't...
All day: I put people in and closed the door, pressed a button, then waited until the operator at the top was ready. You see like a pair of dancers on wire our cars are linked. One goes up as the other comes down. Within seconds the temperature inside the cabin would soar from our bodies crammed together. I'd press another button and a voice would say “Welcome to the cable car! You are traveling up 412 meters to the top of the Rock of Gibraltar.” This of course does nothing to console those who fear heights and there is at least one person every ride who is very scared. After nearly two months, I can spot the nervous ones quickly. Their eyes give them away. Women deal with it quietly by grabbing a hand rail and looking at the floor but men are terrible wanting to be in control. They also have the odd habit of teasing their women instead of consoling them?
The people who enter the car are an audience with expectations and anxieties. How often do you check the cable? Has the cable ever broken? Are the monkeys friendly? Do they bite? I joke and reassure. It seems forever but after a couple of minutes the car moves upwards and we’re off. There’s a gasp of relief as air comes through the open windows cooling us off and the ground falls away. It's as if some cartoon ray gun is at work because everything below us seems to be shrinking. The buildings, cars and people become toys. Then suddenly we are clear of the town and the scenery opens up to show the Straits of Gibraltar. A cacophony fills the cabin as the cameras beep and a sing song of languages begins talking. I don’t need a Babel fish in my ear to know that all those tongues are saying the same thing how beautiful! For it is a sight which invokes in me a genuine feeling of awe. Not 'awe' as in an “awesome ice-cream” but the real thing! Something both mystical and mythical which your spirit cannot tire of.
On a sunny day the calmer waters in the bay between us and Spain seem like rippling, liquid glass. The ships in the port which are so huge outside my bedroom window now seem small enough for a child's hands. Fisherman's large row boats sit like minute bugs on the waters surface. To the north the wind turbines on the Spanish hills are just the right size for Don Quixote to tilt. But we're not done yet. Higher and higher we go and our ears pop with the speed of our ascent. We're visiting the gods! Over there to the south Mount Hacho peeks over an icing of clouds. It's one of the mythical Pillars of Hercules with Gibraltar being the other. This is where the ancient strong man stood and smashed down the divide between the Mediterranean sea and the Atlantic ocean. At this point the once dark continent of Africa is a mere 14 miles away.
I'm almost home at my flat with a crescent moon smiling down. The ships in the bay once more normal sized and the lights from Spain twinkling their goodnight...goodnight. Love Andrew.
