ONE FOOT separates Gibraltar from Spain, that being the distance between the Spanish and the British frontier gates. You show your passport to the Spanish border guard and then, before you pass through, to the British guard as well. You are now leaving the Spanish town of La Linea to step upon the world's biggest pebble, the majestic Rock of Gibraltar, rising almost perpendicularly from sea level to some 1,400 feet at its highest point. This limestone rock of Jurassic age is the lasting symbol of British imperialism, and of injured Spanish pride at having lost it to the British 300 years ago. (It is also the symbol of The Prudential Insurance Company of America, of Newark, NJ; none of us here, truth to tell, has ever quite figured out what to make of that.)
Now, as the saying goes, you can feel as safe as the Rock of Gibraltar, but you begin to wonder as the London-like red double-decker bus begins its journey on the only road into downtown Gibraltar--which incredibly cuts across the airfield runway. The barrier is down and the jetliner from London roars as its tires grip onto an airstrip resembling an oversized aircraft carrier. Beyond Winston Churchill Avenue and an old Moorish castle is the town, which nestles on the western slopes, rising from the one-time busy naval harbor to what is now essentially a commercial and cruise ship terminal. Gibraltar is populated by 30,000 people who call it their homeland, their country.
