It’s so easy to like Malta and Gozo. They have so much history. Learning and exploring involves you in stories of numerous invaders, the influence of the Italians, British, Turks and Arabs. The prominence of the Catholic Church, the Hospitallers Knights of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, St. John’s Co-Cathedral & Museum, St. Paul’s and St. Agatha’s Catacombs, Tarxien Temples, and the calm, lovely community and magnificent blue waters of Gozo.
I went to Malta on the enthusiasm of an acquaintance. The only information I got from him was the guesthouse he stayed at in Bugibba. That was enough because to know one Maltese is to have Malta at your fingertips – the Maltese are that friendly. I stayed at the guesthouse in Bugibba, and found little effort was needed to get around Malta. I joined the early morning strollers along the Mediterranean, looked out at the colorful fishing boats (luzzu), and I noticed the coffee shops across the street with signs in their windows promising an “English breakfast.”
From the guesthouse, it’s an interesting walk along the Mediterranean to the Bugibba bus station. There I learn that the old rickety buses are from England, and are over fifty years old. And I’m told that Valletta, the capital, is a good starting point as most of Malta’s towns and villages are connected to it by bus. I go to Valletta, and quickly notice its rich history, and beautiful architecture. A good guidebook leads the way for exploration. I walk up and down the cobblestone streets, and eventually stop at Fort St. Elmo. A Maltese who’s fascinated with Malta’s history, esp. Malta’s part in WWII, approaches me. Soon he’s my tour guide. He has encyclopedic knowledge, and I try to listen and learn.
After two weeks at the guesthouse, I decide to rent an apartment for a month. I walk along the beautiful Mediterranean, and come to an area called St. Paul’s Bay. I pass a curious elderly woman, arms planted on the window sill; she looks like she’s waiting for something to happen. I back up and ask her whether she knows of an apartment I could rent. She does, leaves to get her keys, and away we go. She says that the apartment belongs to her and her four siblings, and she tells me that all of them are single. As we walk to the apartment, she informs me that they own and operate a restaurant/bar on the premises where I first saw her.
The very old Maltese apartment is located on a quiet nondescript street. The buildings are all attached. It’s large, and the old furnishings give it a lived-in feeling. I’ve never seen an apartment with this type of design. The bedrooms are large, the hallways scattered throughout the apartment are large and long, and I see a courtyard somewhere in the middle of all the rooms. The kitchen is small, the hallway leading to it is very large, and there is an unusually long rectangular table at the end of the apartment just outside the kitchen. I rent it for $400 a month. It doesn’t take long to find that wherever I am in the apartment, I feel isolated. After two weeks of trying to be comfortable without success, I approach the elderly woman to tell her I’m leaving. As I said, the Maltese are friendly and accepting. I don’t expect to get any money back, but without asking, she returns the rest of the rent, and invites me to lunch at her restaurant.
I’m always awed by the differences that exist when visiting a country. There’s always the people, the land, the buildings, the history, the culture – all the sites – and the learning. I try to keep in mind though that underneath all the differences, the basics are the same all over the world.
