Not a long way down the road to Gibraltar, so we took our time over breakfast and picking images of Cadiz which is already a favorite place of ours. Then checkout, in the car, out of the parking lot, and following Hal down the road.
This was, as our days go, a bit of an adventure and though it all ended well enough it was a challenge. I have mentioned that Hal talks to us but doesn't listen although some of the newest ones, including ours, will listen so you don't have to key in destinations if you use a bluetooth microphone.
What Hal's disembodied, speech-synthesized voice says to us becomes a major issue in places like Spain where the names are very long. He will say something like "In 600 meters, turn left at cillosantamariaderodriquesdecortezwhazzamithingboogedyboogedyslothpoo, then turn right". That's like 'In six football fields from here, turn left on one of these tiny streets, the one with the name you can't understand and there's no sign for anyway. And then turn right'. Here, there are no street signs out on the corners so you don't know the streets you are on or what is coming up and most of all there is no way to understand the words as Hal says them in his speech-synthesized voice. So the 'turn left and right' of it all is worthwhile, but the rest makes our teeth itch and we want to bite a corner out of the damn machine. Or I do anyway. But we cope because most of the time Hal is right and we have come to rely on him. He even knows one way streets, but doesn't always know about street closures even if it is clear that the streets have been closed for some time, or if a new street or exit has opened up. Therein lies our problem of the day.
The trip was uneventful leaving Cadiz, and through San Fernando and onto the highway south. Our first stop was Tarifa, one of the closest points between Africa and Europe. We stopped at a beautiful beach and the Sunday afternoon herd of locals were there, with their dogs and music and lawn chairs, walking around and just being like at any beach anywhere. We walked out to the water, picked up some shells, stuck our toes in the water, walked around, took pictures, watched the ships rounding the lighthouse point over to the left, near Algeceres. Chatted, ate our sandwiches and drank our coffee, and listened to the locals and tried to guess what they were saying. Then, after about an hour, saddled up again heading for Algeciras.
About 20 minutes later we passed the ring roads to Algeciras and could see Gibraltar in the middle distance, its shape unmistakeable. Since Gibraltar and Algeciras are just across the bay from one another, our exit must be soon.
Hal started, for the first time, to give conflicting directions about exiting the freeway. Then he would go 'Recalculating' in his pained voice, you fool, you screwed me up again you can hear him thinking. This was new, and un-nerving, because he hadn't actually told us to exit yet, just his usual 'Prepare to exit highway, exit number 265, on ramp, to E14' and stuff like that. So we waited. And waited. Now he isn't talking at all, and the magenta track that he wants us to take has disappeared from the map, and Gibraltar is somewhere in the rear window. Not good. I take the next exit, and Hal still won't talk. What now? I take three laps of a roundabout, Hal isn't moving at all now, like he can't see his satelites. Shit, he shouldn't be having 'Senior's Moments' like that.
Jan and I now head back toward a road that should take us to an overpass and lead us back toward Gibraltar and Algeciras. Hal suddenly wakes up and starts talking to us, yeah!!!, we might not always be his biggest fan but we are blind without him. This time, approaching Gibraltar from the east, his directions are flawless and we find ourselves heading toward The Rock's distinctive shape.
And in the middle of Gibralter International Airport's runway!!! But that's a good thing, actually, the runway is long and wide and cuts directly across the land that connects Spain and Gibraltar. Jan had been here and seen that already on her tour from the cruise. There's a traffic light which you better not run because the big jets are rolling fast just a few meters ahead of the stopped traffic. We had shown our passports, the border police smiled and welcomed us to this British colony.
Then the problems begin, back to back. First, a roundabout, OK, been through these before, Jan listens to Hal and picks the exit. But Hal had another brain fart, and we are off one exit earlier than our track that should have taken us to Winston Churchill Avenue. And we are in a tiny little narrow street, in the slums of The Rock, with people and cars and motorbikes parked every which way. We tried to go forward, and made it after we pulled in our side mirrors! Would have knocked them off otherwise, or worse. Eventually, to Trigg Avenue, then another pass at the roundabout. Screwed up again, somehow, round a different set of terribly narrow streets, Hal's 'Recalculating' sending us back for one more pass to reach the essential Winston Churchill. Third time was a charm, we made it. Jan had searched the Lodgings option of the Points of Interest of Hal's and selected a hotel that had been mentioned in one of her guidebooks. That is Hal's objective as he spins us around the goat-tracks of Gibraltar, finally going up a pedestrian filled street behind another car. Then Hal says, 'Turn right on Main Street', that's pretty clear, its even in English and the white tracks of the street is overlayed with his magenta arrow showing us where to turn. Only one more left turn to go after this and we are at the Cannon Hotel, we are only a block and a half from home. But ... We can't turn right onto Main Steet, it is pedestrian only. I'm stuck halfway around the corner, can't go forward and cars going by behind me, and, OMYGOD, here comes a cop!!!!
He comes up, says 'what seems to be the problem' in a very proper British Voice. I point at the GPS' map, he acknowledges that 'the SatNav is confused', but I think that he realizes that Jan and I are even more confused and frazzled. We tell him of our plans to stay at the Cannon Hotel, he nods his head, looks at us and the Mercedes that we are driving, raises his eyebrows a bit and cocks his head to one side. Right, he says. I say, Ok, if we can't drive up this street then what do we do since our GPS isn't helping much. He hums and haws and tries out different directions but changes them as he goes along, then finally jumps in the back of the car and says 'back this thing up, I'll take you there'. And he did. Got us to the car park just below the big square, got us parked, then walked us to the Hotel. And past it, to the corner and pointed out the Police Station in case further confusion got the better of us. Profuse thanks from us, a friendly smile from him, and we parted ways.
Back to the hotel, in we go, and met a friendly Irish fellow with a marvellous accent who said, yes, he had a room, two beds and a shared bath. Jan and I looked at each other, then at the surroundings, then back at each other as we both realized that further driving was out of the question as was wandering around trying to scare up better accomodations. Fine, we'll take it, how much. Forty one pounds, including breakfast. Now the shoe dropped, we realized why the cop looked at us funny when we said the Cannon Hotel, the place is a flea-bag and a dump. No matter, every trip has to have one of these, here's my passport and credit card, payment in advance if you please he had requested.
Checked in, went to the room, damn, our worst fears confirmed. A small sink in the corner of the room, cracked walls, peeling linoleum floors, mismatching bath towels, no soap. And two single beds, smaller than the ones that the girls slept in when they were little. Jan and I giggled nervously at each other, dropped our gear, and went to the pub for drinks. Much later, dinner. After, walking around the city (it is small) we ran into the cop again. A big smile from him, we shake hands and have a yarn. He told us his history, how he got to 'The Gib' as he referred to it. We explain Hal's help in our choice of the Cannon Hotel. 'Thought it was something like that' he said. Try 'The Bristol' he said, if you stay another night. We assured him we would. Parted ways again, a charming encounter.
Back to the hotel. The 'shared bathroom' was worse, smelled terribly, and Jan pronounced that she would die before showering there. I offered that she would probably die if she did, and agreed that we would go dirty for a day.
The small sink in the corner, and the seedy surroundings, reminded me of a story that our good friend Dick enjoys telling of his time in this part of the world when he was travelling just after University. Seems he met up with a couple of girls, got on well with them, and they began to travel together. One night in Torremolinos just up the road they were in just such surroundings as this, a flea-bag hotel, shared bathroom, sink in the corner, etc. The girls were nervous there but Dick jollied them up a bit and they turned in for the night and were soon asleep. Suddenly, crash bang, Dick is jolted awake in the middle of the night, sits up filled with fright and fight at the same time, turns on the light, and there in the corner is one of the two girls, on the floor, with the sink. Seems that she answered the call of nature in the night and, afraid of going to the shared facilities outside the room, chose the corner sink instead. It wasn't up to the task, unfortunately, and Dick, ever the gentleman, had to make up a story to tell the hotel manager the next morning. They continued on together for a while after that so I guess it all worked out. Recalling the story, I never did use the corner sink last night nor did Jan.
Breakfast this morning was excellent, an egg, two pieces of fried bacon, a sausage, a round of fried tomato, beans, and a piece of toast. And orange juice and unlimited hot, dark, strong, coffee. Yum. The night passed well enough, Jan got about two hours sleep because she picked up a book in the lobby and read it, afraid to turn out the light because of the sounds in the walls. I got about four hours in two shifts, across the room from her, but was awake from about 4:00am. Sounds in the walls.
Arose about 7:30am to a slashing rainstorm, went for breakfast, checked out. The hotel has an inner courtyard but I guess the drainage doesn't work all that well and the floors of the hallways outside the eating area were soaked. Perfect, that finished us. Went outside to see the top half of The Rock shrouded in cloud. Right, that rules out the cable car ride to the top and a visit to the Ape's Grotto as planned, followed by a night at The Bristol. Both too tired and grumpy to hang around in the drizzle or take the tour to Tangier, in the rain also.
Saddled up, on the road, flawlessly guided this time by Hal. At the border they saw the Czech plates and demanded our passports, but all was well and we were off into Spain. A couple of hours drive and tonight we are in Torremolinos, site of Dick's tale. But this time we are in a four-star hotel, on the beach, we won't make that mistake again.
