By Stefano Blanca Sciacaluga

It is summah, and in Gibraltar we’ve already pretty much moved to the beach. I like the beach, and I’ve always done, all my life. Well, apart from a few years where I hardly went…Anyway, I like the beach. I really like swimming more than anything, and just floating in the water, preferably where it’s too deep to reach and just watching and hearing everything from a distance, getting away from all the noise. Because even if like me you’d rather go to a quiet, empty beach, it’s just not going to happen unless you go off-season or at the times during the week that everybody’s at work; but sooner or later you’re going to have to go to a busy Gibraltarian beach.

Last year was the first time in a few years I went almost every day, and even into October and a couple of times in November. My working hours allowed it and I was quickly in the swing of it after a few trips. I’d say apart from the couple of times I’ve gone elsewhere, Eastern Beach has always been my beach, where I feel most comfortable and where, as is normal in Gibraltar you see the same people day in day out that you’ve been seeing every summer for years (and probably hardly see elsewhere other than in bathing gear, on the sand).

Now, I don’t know how accurate my research is, as I haven’t really paid much attention the three or four times I’ve gone to a different local beach, but during the summer of 2014 and the couple of times I’ve gone this year I’ve made a few observations of how the Llanito behaves at the beach.

If there’s one thing that unites all age groups, before I split them up, is how no matter your level of fitness everybody becomes Usain Bolt on the way to the water. I understand the sand is hot, I was at Eastern Beach last Sunday and it was really hot, but that run down to the water is the funniest thing ever. Of course, accompanied by women screaming “el niño que se quema!”. Interesting thing I noticed both last year and this year is how people are now walking down wearing flip flops and leaving them on the shore. Of course it’s quite an obvious thing to do but I don’t think it’s caught on because we just don’t trust people, as a nation. I mean, I’m guilty of that, who’s going to want my smelly Moroccan babouches? But I’d still rather burn myself with a child on each arm (don’t worry, I’m not a kidnapper, they’re family) than have to drive home barefoot (which I’m not sure if it’s illegal but I may or may not have done it in the past). Worst fear at the beach - which might be why I rarely go alone and when I do it’s with minimal gear - has to be being in the water, far away and seeing somebody come round and taking your stuff. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m no Michael Phelps; I’m fast-ish on land (for a dude my size) but in the water I’m a manatee (are they fast? They look slow).

Then there’s the older folk. The big bellies, funky lady bathing costumes. Old people are funny, I love old people. I have this very vivid memory of my mother’s uncle coming to the beach every day late in the evening and just lying there in the sun in Speedos. Excellent! But there are two things in particular that I really like about watching old people at the beach. I love it when women of a certain age get in the water. I mean, if it’s cold everybody complains but these women just get up to their waist the whole time doing an “oooooooy” on the way in (usually followed by a string of comments to those close by about how it’s colder than the days before). And with older people it’s only ever up to their waste. I have never seen a woman of say seventy wet her hair. Actually, my own mother is sixty and she hasn’t wet her hair at the beach (voluntarily) in the past decade. It’s a thing, y’know? Like the thing men do, where they walk in, get up to their waist and stand there looking out at the sea with their hands behind their backs. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen this. Once you’ve hit the age of being a beach oldie you’ll know it, you’ll put your hands behind your back and stand there for a while (probably whilst you pee and then get out). Bonus thing I like and haven’t seen a lot of lately is the memory of the older family members playing dominos and tablita at the beach.

Then there are the middle-agers. Those who bring their kids and their parents to the beach; they’re running the show. And of course, if you want to run the show, if you want to be the host with the most you have to make sure you take EVERYTHING to the beach: los sandwiches, el squash, la fruta, cambio para la tienda, ropa para cambiarse (to go home limpito, of course, because you shower at the beach, en la vida at home), more than one bathing costume, polvos talcos, la tablita, las cartas, las palas, chairs, umbrellas and your best screeching voice (for women) to scream at your kids when they go a little too far out and to scream “tu puedes con eso mami?” as you watch your elderly mother clearly struggle with a huge bag of your rubbish walking down the steps onto the sand. But every little thing is necessary, you need everything. And if you forget anything it could ruin your day (“ay que lastima, se me quedaron los bourbons en la cocina, medio paquetito, we could have finished it hoy”). And if you brought everything it also includes family. Because there are people that you’ve been considering cousins all your life and it’s because their barraca is two down from yours and it got so busy it was like one big barraca party the whole time. Of course there’s also that weird phenomenon of sitting in an area where there’s next to nobody and having somebody you don’t even know walk the whole beach to come and sit right on the edge of your umbrella’s shade, with an empty beach; but that’s a whole different story. And how about the crispy ducks? Those middle-aged women in the sun all day from May to October, shiny from the coconut oil, there’s always a couple of them about. And about the men? Well, the middle-aged men are interesting and harder to group into traits; a lot of them are all about the napping and relaxing, not even touching the water the whole time they’re there. And then there are those who are a lot more sociable, sometimes even mucking about with the younger guys.

But nothing is as Llanito as the sixteen to thirty-five-ish bracket; the chulito. THIS is the age of the men, where they really stand out from the women before settling down to dealing with their excited kids and being the husband figure, ultimately just evolving to the middle-aged grouch napping the whole time. But these guys are really cool. I mean, when I think of Llanitos and what I truly love about them with all my heart one of the things I love most is the exchange between genders in this age bracket. Because the girls are just hanging about and the guys are out on the prowl; and there’s two types. There’s the ones that have come from the gym to the beach and are going back straight after, cool tattoos, waxed head to toe and walking from one end of the beach to the other, across the shore; and then there’s the ones that are pretty much doing the same but in the water, on jet ski’s, spending a lot more money on fuel than they should (or have) but they’re probably looking a lot cooler than the ones on the shore. Probably, I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t get enough of these rituals of courtship, they’re like peacocks or those birds that dance with their wings up to attract mates, know which I mean?

But it saddens me that things aren’t the way they used to be. Now you’ve got a very convenient kiosk by the roundabout at the far end (my turf) and places like Latino’s at the beginning; where you can get all sorts of things. But before that (and before Latinos in its old location, where I had a job at the kiosk) I’m sure you can all remember the 007, La Hacienda and La Puerquita (coming to you live from a window in her spare room or something). Now that was real. That I really enjoyed. It was different. Oh, and that old man with the small pickup truck with ice creams round the back. It was a different time, but even if the Miko Lapiz doesn’t exist and nobody remembers the people sat inside the 007 drinking in the middle of summer one thing remains the same, and that is the relationship between the Llanito and the beach.

This article was originally posted in 2015.