Enigma Variations

Xmas in Malta

January 3rd, 2008

From Xmas Eve onwards I spent a week on the island of Malta. It was place I was interested in seeing due to its Dunnett connections and there was the hope of some midwinter warmth and light to dispel the gloom and cold of a Scottish winter.

The week started promisingly enough, a morning flight from Glasgow was smooth and uneventful and landed us amid pleasant sunshine and 18 degree temperatures. It was busy on the transfer ride, but the view from the hotel’s roof terrace over to Valletta was spectacular and the light as the sun went down was pleasing. As I started to relax I realised that only force of will had been keeping me going for the previous few weeks and I felt curiously detached, like a sailor finding his sea-legs, and found it easy to take occasional naps. Xmas day was quieter, and I took a longish walk in the pleasant sunshine, round the various marinas and almost to Valletta itself. Had I realised what was to come I’d have continued up the hill and taken more pictures, but feeling tired and having an equal walk back I retraced my steps. Once back at the hotel I astonished myself by falling asleep in the bath for the only time in my life.

Boxing day dawned to a squally wind and no sun; it was not to return for the rest of the week. Walking north to St Julian was, as we say on the east coast of the UK, bracing. Through binoculars I watched what became the final harbour tour boat of the week swing out of the Grand Harbour and into Sliema Creek where I was staying. I was glad not to be aboard as it pitched and rolled alarmingly while turning side on to the waves. For the rest of the week not even the ferry which runs from Sliema to Valletta, never leaving the sheltered harbour, ran at all, such was the swell.

The next day I took a bus to Valletta, there being little point in going further afield in the gloomy conditions. The buses are mostly ancient British Leylands and Bedfords which are, by some engineering and administrative miracle, still deemed roadworthy. Mine appeared to be missing at least two gears and hand signals seemed to be the order of the day. With no seat padding and little legroom I would not like to inflict a long journey in one on my long limbed frame.

Valletta was packed with people and to my horror had speakers on the lamposts blaring out hollywood xmas songs. (One more chorus of Frosty the Snowman and I swear I’d have raided the nearest armoury and set about demolishing lamposts). I escaped into the Archaeology Museum for some peace and quiet and some understanding of the ancient history of the islands. It took some time to find a quiet cafe down one of the many side streets, but the food was excellent and plentiful. Nearby was the Carmelite Church whose massive dome dominates the skyline and once again the silence was welcome while admiring the architecture. Apparently the dome was constructed without internal scaffolding, which is an amazing feat of building skill.

Sadly there is little else worth writing about. The weather turned worse, waves throwing spray high up the Valletta sea wall, and culminated in a massive thunderstorm on the Saturday which flooded the road outside the hotel. My plans to venture further afield, particularly to the walled city of Mdina were shelved.

Maybe I’ll get another chance, maybe not. While I didn’t see it in its best light, it has to be said that I didn’t fall in love with Malta the way some people do. For one thing it is too crowded and busy for my taste. For another, strange as it may seem, it is too British. While it has no doubt reasserted its own identity since becoming independent in the 1960s, it retains some of the old British ways that to me sit uneasily with a Mediterranean population. And it seems to be becoming a retirement home for brits. I’m not sure that’s healthy in such a small island.

Entry Filed under: Personal