Malta: Day Four

Back to the real world

At 4:40 a.m., Josephine comes to pick me up for the drive to the airport.  She said she never sleeps; I’m beginning to believe her!
        As the flight is within the EU, there’s not even any passport control.  Just the x-ray machine for carry-on and passengers.  After that, this small airport shows how smart it is: to get to the gates, you have to walk not by the duty-free, but through it.  And you have plenty of time to buy something.  I give in and opt for a box of those delicious date cookies, the mqarets.  And these are made by Caffe Cordina, that amazing pastry shop (est. 1837) on Valetta’s bustling Republic Street.  They’re different from the ones I had from Nenu’s because they’re baked, not deep-fried.  I’m not sure which are more delicious.  It’s almost as if they were two totally different cookies.
       The flight back to Paris only takes 2½ hrs and the safety film gives me one final thing to enjoy about Malta: it’s a cartoon whose main character is a knight in armor.  He obviously doesn’t understand anything about flying because he’s very confused by the seatbelts and the oxygen masks.  The South American flights used cartoon characters also, to get your attention, but this one is funny.  The perfect last touch.

My final thoughts about the island of Malta:

- Aside from the excessive use of cellphones by people who should be selling you tickets instead (mostly young women), and aside from the bright henna rinse on a lot of ladies’ heads, I found nothing to complain about.  Malta is a great place to visit.  Especially if you’re interested in architecture and archaeology, as I am.  Parts of it are a work in progress right now though, but they’re knocking it into shape before 2018, when Valetta will be the European Capital of Culture for a year.  I hope that won’t change it much.
- The native language sounds extremely foreign - which it is.  But if you have a question or directions to ask for, they speak fluent English, as well as Italian it would appear.  German and French don’t seem to pose a lot of problems either.  So you know you’re not in Kansas any more, Toto, but you can still hold a conversation.  And that’s the best of both worlds.
- The food is delicious.  And copious.  At least at Mario’s recommended restaurants.  I didn’t have a single bad meal all the time I was there.  And that started as of the Air Malta flight in.  We were served an esnaque (as the South Americans call it), a snack - a tuna salad sandwich Malta-style:  tuna with chopped up turnips, carrots, cauliflower, onion, sweet peppers, fennel, wine vinegar, capers, olives, tomato paste and white beans.  Not a drop of mayonnaise was harmed in the making of this sandwich.  And it was served up on a tasty brown bread roll.  Plus it was fresh as could be:  made the previous day, in Malta, and meant to be eaten on the day of the flight.  Not a preservative in sight.  All this information gleaned from the packaging.  Very impressive.  (On the flight back, it was a much more bland sliced turkey and Gouda sandwich on a white bread roll.)

Mario

- But most of all, there are the people of Malta.  The people are a joy.  Always helpful.  Always chatty.  It started with Josephine, who gave me a lot of history and geography facts about her island during our several rides.  There was the lady in the Valetta lift who provided extra information on it and then continued the conversation all the way to the ferry.  Where she was replaced by a man who chatted with me all the way across the harbor, and then made sure I got on the right path to Senglea.  He had been to Valetta to buy his wife the necklace that matched the earrings she liked so much, because it was going to be Valentine’s Day.  Then there was Albert, at Fort San Angelo, who let me take those photos and ended up telling me about his years on the Great Lakes, finishing in a big hug and a kiss on both cheeks.  And finally, there was Mario, who feels like an old friend now.  I hope to stay in touch with him.
       And who knows?  Maybe I’ll go back to see those other prehistoric ruins I missed, and take the boat to Gozo.


For some extra information, here are a few internet resources.
- For the Hypogeum:  http://heritagemalta.org/museums-sites/hal-saflieni-hypogeum/
- For a general view:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izWmqkEiYJ0

Helpful addresses:
- Miler Cabs - taxi service, Josephine - (00356)21237088 cell 79201403 / adrios2@yahoo.com
- Guzé Bistro - 22 Old Bakery St. / Valletta VLT 1459 / (356) 21239686 / info@guzevalletta.com
- Nenu - 143 St. Domenic Street / Valletta VLT 1605 / 22581535 / info@nenuthebaker.com / www.nenuthebaker.com
- Grand Harbour Hotel - 47 Triq Il-Batterija Il-Belt / Valletta VLT 1221 / (356) 21246003 /  http://grand-harbour-hotel.valletta.hotels-mt.com/en/

Dingli Cliffs (west coast)

Malta: Day Three - Part Two

City Gate of Valetta, with St. John Bastion and the red flag of the city

It’s about time for lunch, and I haven’t seen anything that strikes my fancy here in Vittoriosa, so I decide to head back to the ferry and across to Valetta to try out another of Mario’s Restaurant Picks.  So far he’s two-for-two.

Republic Street

The final stalls of the daily morning market in Merchant Street - which I’ve missed - are packing it in, but there’s still one in front of La Sfoglia selling leather goods.  While I wait for my food, I watch them pack their goods away and take the stall apart like an Erector set; they’ve got it down to a science.  The restaurant takes over the space, the waiter setting up some high-top tables for those looking for an apéritif.  The restaurant itself, where I'm sitting, is actually an outside affair, a tasteful marquee, complete with chandelier, enclosed by plastic flaps, and it’s so warm that they can be opened.  The tablecloths are a dazzling white.  Quite stylish.
       I’ve learned my lesson over the past two meals; I haven’t been able to finish either of them.  So I decide to just have two appetizers.  But when the first one comes - the calamari - it’s disturbingly large.  Enough for an entire meal.  Who knew?  It comes with several lemon wedges - probably local because the lemon and orange trees I’ve been seeing are all weighted down with fruit - and a great béarnaise sauce.  Washed down with a glass of local dry white wine.  Once again, I could stop there, but there are porcini ravioli to be reckoned with, and when they arrive there are way too many of them, even with a red wine to wash them down.  So once again I disappoint the poor waiter, who thinks I didn’t enjoy them.  And of course, no dessert.

St. Paul's Anglican Cathedral (left) and Our Lady of Mount Carmel (right)

Fort Manoel (left) & Sliema

After lunch, I realize I’ve seen all of the east side of Valetta's peninsula but not the west side.  It’s true that it’s not as attractive to me, for two reasons.  First of all, the view across that other harbor is of Sliema, which is modern, mostly all built after the leveling it took during World War II.  And modern is fine, but it looks a lot like any other city.  The other reason is that long ago this part was a shanty town and government housing was put up, which is also fine but not picturesque - although it probably has more modern conveniences than the old buildings can offer.  A walk through the neighborhood shows that it also has few shops, or else I just didn’t find them.  So back up the hill I go and through Hastings Gardens, Valetta’s third and largest park.
  From there, I cross over to the east side, my side, and take the modern elevator down the cliff to the ferry landing.  There are several hours of daylight left, and I haven’t found either the eye of Osiris on any of the local boats or the eye and ear on the guard tower overlooking the harbor.  The eye of Osiris is to keep the evil spirits away; the eye and ear are marks of vigilance against more human evil spirits in the form of attacking ships.  Over lunch, I learned that the eye and ear are on the guard tower in Senglea, another of the Three Cities across from Valetta.  Had I known that this morning, I would have walked over there as well.  But then I wouldn’t have had those lovely calamari.  The ferry is a short, inexpensive ride, and I love being on the water anyway, so back across I go.

Senglea waterfront

Vittoriosa’s original name was Birgu, but it was renamed because of its courage during World War II.  Senglea’s was L’Isla - the island - which it once may have been.  It was renamed to honor the Grand Master who fortified the promontory where I’m headed.  This island was the most damaged during the war.  Along the docks, across from the expensive boats in the marina, there are only small fishing boats.  And on the waterfront is a building that, unlike all the rest, has been left apparently abandoned.  As is usual for me, I ask why and learn that it was dockyard facilities that closed.  But now it will become the American University in Malta, even though it’s a Jordanian group behind the project.  I know there’s an American University in Beirut and another in Cairo; is this just one more, or is it intended to replace one or both of the others, now that things are not so... comfortable for anything American in the Middle East?

  This island is similar to Valetta, but more sleepy.  There are a few shops along the main street running the length of Senglea, the rest being residential.  In addition to the shops, I pass two flat-bed trucks selling produce out of the back.  There are also two churches, in spite of the town’s small size, one of which is hosting a Stations of the Cross for the start of Lent.  At one time, Senglea was becoming an artist’s colony, but that seems to have faded away now.  Still, there's a lovely colonnaded building overlooking the harbor and Vittoriosa that I could see myself living in for a while.  Watching the boats go in and out, the ferry sail back and forth, the rowing team practicing for the big race...
  I reach the tip of the island, with Valetta just across the water.  A quiet garden has been created here, Gardjola Garden, on the top of the bastion.  And there’s my guard tower - il gardjola - my sentry post with the symbols I was looking for: an eye, an ear and a crane bird, all meant to guard and watch over the harbor.  It’s reminiscent of past conflicts, whether with Barbary pirates, Ottoman Turks or German U-boats.
  Time to head back to my hotel across the waters,  One last conversation with Mario, thanking him for all his kindness, and it’s upstairs to pack and get ready for a very early start tomorrow morning.