Day 1 - Flying….
I don’t love flying, it’s such a faff and always a bit stressful, having to have the right bits of paper and bags in the right place at the right time. But, apart from being an hour late, this was ok, with a happy baby playing peep-bo most of the way. We flew across Gozo on the way in and my first impression was Arabic rather than European… possibly because everything is so dry. Lots of a beautiful coloured rock and stone but very few trees. And not much green already (it’s only May..). We stayed in Sliema which has an 80’s seaside town vibe, and none the worse for that. Lots of noisy bars and incongruous sightings of M&S and Mothercare. Not sure if I was on the Isle of Wight at times. But the people we met were friendly and the first impression was of cheap and frequent public transport so we knew we definitely weren’t in the UK anymore.
Day 2 Valletta and TarxienTemples
Our first hiccup was that the weather was a bit breezy, so much so that the ferries weren't working. So, we did a shuffle around of our planned itinerary and went to Valletta and the Tarxien Temples for the day. We got the bus around the bay and, as we found later, as we got a seat, we could count ourselves pretty lucky! We joined a walking tour, and the thing I remember most from that is the story about the man
who is buried with one arm removed following his request that one arm be buried with his wife. He might have thought it was romantic, but it feels a bit creepy to me! Lots of hills, balconies and beautiful vistas. Fascinating though how many of the buildings have derelict floors, mainly due to the arcane property laws which means there are multiple, not very well documented, owners, and you might have a well kept ground floor, but the top floor has holes in the roof....
We then got another bus down to Tarxien, where there are ruins of a prehistoric temple complex and a resident cat. On the way back we had our first experience of trying to get on a bus in rush hour which suddenly felt like home after all.
Day 3 Hagar Qim and Blue Grotto
Still no ferries and a sirocco wind still blowing, bringing sand, showers and hairstyles that would traumatise many a hairdresser. So, intrepidly, we changed plans again and got a bus down to one of the other main temple complexes on the island, at Hagar Qim. There's nothing like getting on a bus and not really know where you are going. I particularly enjoyed the way all of the tourists watch each other for a clue that someone knows what they are doing, and as soon as there is a decisive move, there's a whole rush to follow. Lovely, if blowy, walk through the rocky landscape full of wild flowers to both of the temple complexes.
The audio tour was fairly standard, although I got fed up with being asked at the end of every section 'What do you think this was for/about? ' I know experts are not taken seriously these days, but I'd prefer to hear from them than rely on my own half-baked theories about cats being in charge of everything. On the walk back up we met with a traumatised chameleon* walking in tiny circles, surrounded by a large circle of concerned humans who couldn't decide what to do. The crowd was as big as at any of the formal sights we came across all day.
We then got another bus to Blue Grotto, tried and failed to get tea and cake despite multiple restaurants, but had a lovely sit in the sunshine watching the waves and getting sunburnt. We had got a bit overconfident on the buses by then, which meant that we were a bit flummoxed when we couldn't find the stop for the bus back. We got another bus instead, and along with all the other tourists, blindly followed someone who seemed to know what they were doing and with an assertive app on their phone. As a result of this blind faith, we all got off the bus together at a temporary bus stop at the side of a busy, windswept, dual carriageway, and then stood for about 15 minutes trying not to be concerned that we had maybe picked the wrong leader. The relief when a bus finally turned up was tangible. But the rush hour crowds and traffic jams, I assume made worse by the lack of ferries, meant that the joy was shortlived. We got back eventually though.
Day 4 Mdina and Rabat
Once we had finally let go of our desire to get to Gozo for the day when it became clear that again, there were no ferries, we fully committed to our day in Mdina and Rabat. This time no-one on the bus realised we were at our stop so the bus driver had to shout very loudly that this was Mdina, everyone leapt to their feet as one and scrambled to get off. Beautiful city, too many cars, probably sums up my overall feelings about the place. We joined another walking tour and the guide this time spent an awful lot of time talking about balconies and architecture, which was interesting, but I noticed the lack of scurrilous anecdotes - love a scandalous story to bring a place to life. We wandered down to the Roman catacombs after lunch which had large crowds of largely uninterested teenagers on school trips.
After wandering through a few catacombs and getting confused with the signage we decided we'd had enough history and culture for the day and sat in a park with an ice-cream while we waited for yet another bus. This bus journey was enlivened by being so packed that no-one could fall over if they tried, and what came close to a punch up when a couple of men got on at the back of the bus without paying and had a shouting match with the driver. Another occasion that felt like they had captured the essence of London.
Day 5 Valletta and 3 cities then home
The ferries were finally running again, although too late for us to get to Gozo. So we just took the ferry across to Valletta to visit St John's Co-cathedral. If you want a metaphor for ruling classes stashing away the good stuff for themselves, then this probably does the job pretty well. Although hidden way behind a non-descript exterior, this is baroque bling on a spectacular scale. Beautiful art covered ceilings, the most wonderful floors, gold leaf over every available surface, and we were lucky enough to visit when the newly restored tapestries were temporarily hanging there too before they get moved to a permanent home in a museum. Highlights for me though were Caravaggio's Beheading of St John and the cat on the floor.
Afterwards we took the ferry over to the three cities, a cheap and enjoyable journey with great views. The crossing was enlivened by an entitled young woman off one of the huge superyachts who had taken the ferry and was asking people to move seats so that she could take video of her buddies on the yacht. She ensured we were all truly pissed off by standing up to talk loudly to her buddies on the phone and blocking the view of all of the poorer tourists around her.
After some lunch and a sit to admire the view, we headed towards home, via a classic taxi driver grumbling about immigrants and the cost of living, to find our flight had been delayed. I probably wouldn't have minded too much but we had been shaken down by the airline the day before to pay extra so that we didn't have to check our bags, but the chaos to get on meant that they didn't bother with any of that in the end and we all just piled on, bags and all. At least we hadn't paid extra for business class who had to join the scrum with the rest of us.
*We think, having consulted Google
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