Day 7-I wanted to go to Morroco. We would be too close to Africa too pass up the opportunity to cross the narrow Straits of Gibraltar and stand on another continent. I wanted to go to Tangier, William Burroughs "Interzone." Daniels father had not thought this a good idea. Tangiers was a place of lawlessness. The Spanish seemed to view Morocco the same way many Americans view Mexico. As a place of lawlessness and corruption. Illegal immigration was a problem. Hugo and I had seen a man detained at Madrid airport simply because he looked Moroccan. Daniel recommended Cueca. It was a Spanish city, a colony on the Moroccan coast.

We set out from Seville for Algeciras, where we could catch the ferry across the Straits. The landscape on the drive down was rugged and mountainous, all color bleached away by the sun so it was all shades of brown and yellow and orange. Towns white washed houses would appear and disappear. Olive trees stretched out in endless rows. We got lost once, but GPS put us back on the right track. I was really becoming endeared to this technology.

We saw water. We stopped at a rest stop perched high on a cliff. We could see land on the other side. Hugo thought this was Africa. I disagreed. I didn�t think we should be able to see that far. We asked someone. Yes, that is Africa. The shores of another continent rose lumpily from the blue water, cloaked in haze. I stuck money in one of those telescopes they have on top of tall buildings in the states. I wanted to see farther into this mysterious land. Something about Africa. It evokes feelings. Tarzan. The Nile. The Congo. The Great Rift Valley. Hemingway. Elephants and gorillas. Lions and tigers. Gazelle loping across grassy plains. Television shows on PBS in my youth.

We get back in the car and continue driving. The ferry leaves in 30 minutes. I�m eager to stand out on the foredeck and feel the salty air of the Mediterranean cleanse my lungs. I want to watch Africa grow larger. I want to hear Africa. I want to smell Africa coming.

The ferry doesn�t have an open deck. We sit in a large lounge belowdeck. Their are tv monitors playing "The Professional" dubbed into Spanish. It is not as romantic as I had hoped. We are supposed to be on the fast ferry, crossing the sea in 90 minutes, but it leaves late and instead takes almost 2.5 hours.

We step off the ferry and onto another continent. It looks pretty much like Spain. That makes sense, it being a Spanish colony and all. We walk the deserted streets. It is midafternoon, and most are inside, out of the heat. Cueca is something of a Peninsula. We walk to the other side. We can see the Kiff Mountains. The water is like liquid gold in the sun. We walk around the entire city and end up back at the ferry. It is disappointingly like Spain. I don�t know what I expected to see. I chide myself for having lost my nerve and not pushed Tangiers. We take the ferry back to Spain.

Day 8-We drove into Gibraltar the night before. It�s a strange experience. One minute you are in the middle of Spain, the next your are among doughy white British people. Gibraltar is a British colony. Britain still has colonies. It is strange to hear Spanish spoken with a British accent, though I supposed no stranger than hearing it spoken with an American one.

We are here to climb the rock. One of the Pillars of Hercules. And to see the monkeys.

We ride the cable car to the top. It is much to far to walk. Where we get off there is a sign "The Cable Car apologizes for the poor state of the paintwork at the top station, which is largely due to a sharp increase in the number of apes on the Upper Rock. We are working with the tourist board who are responsible for the apes to resolve the situation." The apes are not native to the rock. No one knows who brought them here. The British believe that as long as the apes live on the rock, Gibraltar will remain in their hands. During WWII, the apes started to die off, so Winston Churchill had more imported.

We spot our first ape from the observation platform. He is about 100 yards away sitting on the rocky spine. We wander through old military installations. We look out across the Mediterranean through telescopes. We look back into Spain across the Bay of Algeciras. We look for more monkey�s.

We find them about 100 yards down the road to the bottom. A special habitat has been built for them. A monkey playground. There is what looks like a family of them. People are feeding them peanuts, despite the signs advising against it. The apes seem tame, certainly quite accustomed to tourists. Hugo wonders where the people got the peanuts. I say that I saw them sold back at the Visitors Center for 100 pesetas a bag($0.60US). We go back.

When we get back to the monkey�s, an armada tourist filled taxi�s has arrived. A hundred people mill about. Cab drivers have the monkey�s sit on their arms while they give them treats. One gets a monkey to sit on someone�s head. The apes do not appear dangerous, despite the sharp nails and mouthfuls of vicious looking teeth. Hugo and I decide to sit to the side and wait for the crowd to thin out. I see an ape sitting atop a stone wall by the side of the road, his head bowed, oblivious to all the chaos around him. In the distance Africa looms out of the haze.

Hugo and I sit on a rock about 50 feet from the action. One ape, a straggler, approaches us. Hugo tosses him a peanut, which he cautiously approaches and picks up and starts to eat. He is sitting about 5 feet away. He drops the peanut. He looks at us. Hugo "I wonder why he doesn�t want. . ." And faster than I can react, the ape has leapt 5 feet onto my lap, grabbed the bag of peanuts out of Hugo�s hands, pushed off my chest, and scampered nimbly up a rock. The monkey stole our peanuts. We�ve been outwitted by an ape.

Hugo will not let this stand. It is an embarrassment. He plots how to retake the bounty. I look up and see two apes ripping open the bag and helping themselves. Hugo finds an empty bag and fills it with rocks. It is his plan to distract the apes with this ruse, while I sneak up and grab our peanuts. I want no part of it. Did I mention the apes formidable looking set of teeth? And their strong, sinewy limbs. And their claws. And those teeth! Hugo tries to do it solo. He climbs up the rock and gets the apes attention. He tosses the bag far away. One of the apes goes after it. Hugo tries to move in. He�s foiled. One of the apes has stayed to guard the original cache. Game, set, match. Apes 1, Humans 0.

Hugo berates me for not helping out. He is sure that the both of us together could have taken them. I state my objections, and remind him of my lack of health insurance and the fact that I�m not sure how up to date my inoculations against wild monkey bites are. Defeated and demoralized, we head down the rock. Page 5