It's amazing what you see in Valletta. A couple of years ago I was there with my grandson and as we walked down busy Republic St. we passed a man with a ferret on a lead, trotting along just like a dog being taken for a walk. I've seen people walking on 6' stilts, for no apparent reason, and a perfectly ordinary-looking man who was walking on his hands.
On my first Saturday in Malta, this time, I took the bus to Valletta. It was a hot day, about 30'C, and I planned a walk to the square for lunch then to amble down to the harbour and take the ferry across to Sliema.
As I walked through the archway into the city I heard a familiar, though not Maltese, sound. I edged my way through the crowd and there, in front of me, was a pipe band complete with kilts and bearskins and marching in formation as they played. I recognised the tune, though I would hardly call it traditional. They were playing John Denver's "Country Roads".
I walked down to "Eddie's" bar which has tables set out in Republic Square and slid, thankfully, on to a seat under a large umbrella. Sipping a cappuccino, while I waited for my lasagne, I indulged in a bit of people watching. Most of the tables were taken up by groups of middle-aged Maltese ladies having coffee and iced water. It's a regular sight in Malta. The ladies dress up in smart clothes and meet for coffee or lunch and talk for hours. Very civilised, in my opinion. There was also a couple, mid-50s, with their son who looked about 25. The son was alternately chain-smoking and puffing on an asthma inhaler. Two men came and sat at the table next to me. They were having a very animated conversation and laughed loudly every now and then. I wished I understood Maltese.
After lunch I walked down one of the steep, narrow streets towards Marsamxett harbour. I never do the ferry trip the other way, from Sliema, as those streets are long and extremely high. I arrived at the little jetty and stood in the burning sun as the ferry boat approached from the other side. I fancied sitting on the top deck to catch the breeze but when I boarded the boat I found the steps roped off and a big No Entry sign. Instead of a cooling sea breeze I had only hot sun, through glass, on my face. My hair clung round my face, plastered down with sweat.
Over in Sliema I made a quick trip to Marks and Sencers. Just like in England the place was full of Winter clothes - and the temperature outside was soaring. I had a half-hearted wander round some of the other shops but it was far too hot so I popped into a waterfront café for a long drink and a sit under a welcome electric fan. Then, slowly, I made my way to the bus stop. There was a bus in but no driver - he was across the road having a hot-dog and an orange juice, followed by a large ice cream.
Eventually the driver returned and we set off on the 45 minute journey to Mellieha Bay. Once back at the hotel I went straight to my room and showered. There was still 3 hours until dinner so I went for a leisurely swim in the outdoor pool then lay on a sunbed for a little snooze.
It's a hard life in Malta.
On my first Saturday in Malta, this time, I took the bus to Valletta. It was a hot day, about 30'C, and I planned a walk to the square for lunch then to amble down to the harbour and take the ferry across to Sliema.
As I walked through the archway into the city I heard a familiar, though not Maltese, sound. I edged my way through the crowd and there, in front of me, was a pipe band complete with kilts and bearskins and marching in formation as they played. I recognised the tune, though I would hardly call it traditional. They were playing John Denver's "Country Roads".
I walked down to "Eddie's" bar which has tables set out in Republic Square and slid, thankfully, on to a seat under a large umbrella. Sipping a cappuccino, while I waited for my lasagne, I indulged in a bit of people watching. Most of the tables were taken up by groups of middle-aged Maltese ladies having coffee and iced water. It's a regular sight in Malta. The ladies dress up in smart clothes and meet for coffee or lunch and talk for hours. Very civilised, in my opinion. There was also a couple, mid-50s, with their son who looked about 25. The son was alternately chain-smoking and puffing on an asthma inhaler. Two men came and sat at the table next to me. They were having a very animated conversation and laughed loudly every now and then. I wished I understood Maltese.
After lunch I walked down one of the steep, narrow streets towards Marsamxett harbour. I never do the ferry trip the other way, from Sliema, as those streets are long and extremely high. I arrived at the little jetty and stood in the burning sun as the ferry boat approached from the other side. I fancied sitting on the top deck to catch the breeze but when I boarded the boat I found the steps roped off and a big No Entry sign. Instead of a cooling sea breeze I had only hot sun, through glass, on my face. My hair clung round my face, plastered down with sweat.
Over in Sliema I made a quick trip to Marks and Sencers. Just like in England the place was full of Winter clothes - and the temperature outside was soaring. I had a half-hearted wander round some of the other shops but it was far too hot so I popped into a waterfront café for a long drink and a sit under a welcome electric fan. Then, slowly, I made my way to the bus stop. There was a bus in but no driver - he was across the road having a hot-dog and an orange juice, followed by a large ice cream.
Eventually the driver returned and we set off on the 45 minute journey to Mellieha Bay. Once back at the hotel I went straight to my room and showered. There was still 3 hours until dinner so I went for a leisurely swim in the outdoor pool then lay on a sunbed for a little snooze.
It's a hard life in Malta.