| Church bells commence early in the morning and continue throughout the day, pealing from different directions, each church having its own unique timbre and pitch. They don't, like a cuckoo clock, denote the hour of the day (I've counted and it doesn't match). Sometimes they are melodic other times cacophonic. And it seems that the churches don't overlap. Perhaps the various parishes, with their proud and grandiose basilicas that seem rather oversized for the populations, have an agreement to set their bell clocks to slightly different times or it is just a happy accident. My best guess is the bells follow a schedule set by the 7 canonical "hours" of matins and lauds, prime, terce, sext, none, vespers and compline (thank you Google search). It would be really interesting if these were accompanied by the Islam calls to prayer broadcast through the day but, other than the Arabic roots of Maltese language, Islam was thoroughly replaced by the Knights of St. John's militaristic devotion. We have seen a few women with head scarves and one in a full black chador who, on first glimpse I perceived as a Catholic nun, however it is clear that Islam is not a dominant religion here. The language is interesting for an outsider, as it sometimes sounds very Arabic and sometimes very Italian. We also oftentimes hear very British English, perhaps from tourists or ex-pats. We started another of our "slow walks on a small rock" life art project only to have to return to the apartment for a change of footgear. Jo saved on weight and space during packing by leaving her hiking boots behind in favor of her cross trainer shoes regularly used for biking. It turns out that the fit is just a bit too tight which created some hot spots on her feet on our previous day's trek that flared up immediately. A change to the looser, slip-on boots she had worn on the plane and we were off. Our route retraced the start of yesterday's path before veering slightly east so we were able to identify both Ta’ Għammar hill and Ta' Ġurdan Lighthouse from slightly different viewpoints. Past terraced agriculture and through some rather posh areas with impeccably maintained and very tall rock rubble walls until we reached the Wied il-Għasri Gorge. Descending the rock-hewn stairway we reached a very narrow inlet to the sea with impressive limestone walls and the sound of small round rocks rolling against each other. The tourist literature comments on how impressive it is during rough weather, which seems an ill-advised time to visit, but it would be magnificent. Nearby the salt pans commence, a series of shallow flat pools where seawater is allowed to evaporate, interconnected by a series of hand dug channels. Some seem ancient, from the Roman times, and others are contemporary as they continue to serve the salt harvesting economy. There is something akin to the Sutro Baths of San Francisco as the pools appear almost as an elaborate healing spa but the numerous signs warn against going into the pools, holding barbecues or leaving trash that would contaminate the salt. The channels and linked rectangular pools inhabit an eerie, somewhat lunar landscape of smooth, soft rock surface. Walking along the coastline we were impressed at the extent of the salt operation as the pools continued far beyond what the pictures and descriptions in the tourist literature prepared us for. We reached Marsalforn, filled with dive shops to explore Calypso's Cave and apartment buildings constructed with modern, economical methods. We were now on the return leg of our walk, with the highlights of the hike behind us. The blisters on Jo's feet were a bit too angry so, in spite of the nagging feeling that we were breaching some sort of code of the flâneur, we took a Bolt (the Maltese version of Uber) on a five-minute ride back to the apartment. |
Rained really hard with wind and lightning while we slept. Woke up with no electricity (3rd time in a week). Landlord had difficulty resetting as the switch kept tripping. He asked us to unplug everything but it is pretty clear that his problem is that the rain is getting his circuits wet as each time the power has gone out it has correlated to rain. Finally, after an hour the power stayed on, the moisture probably had dried out enough to stop being an issue.
very muddy from downpour, especially as we walked near planting areas near waterways that drain from the many isolated hills into the Sea.
Nearing Victoria ir-Rabat we noted preparations for some sort of event: police standing around readied for traffic and crowd control, members of a band in uniform, flags atop buildings as the churches peeled their bells. The pizza we had for dinner wasn't memorable and our server neglected us, but we thoroughly enjoyed our time with Arthall director Marta Obiols Fornell and her partner Tomas Hed, a painter whose work we admire (we purchased a beautiful linoleum print of his to bring home the day before).
hours of operation, we enjoy their bread more. We also visited a local museum whose curatorial vision was....hard to get a grasp upon.
Roaming small streets and alleys, attempting to navigate the labyrinth of an ancient city's central district without relying totally upon Google Maps on the phone we have happened upon some small wonders while becoming a bit more familiar. Jo created a pan top variation on the traditional timpana that was delicious. Who knew that curry works well with more traditional Italian type seasonings?
additional cats came out (and the sleeping cat groggily lifted its head). One was particularly persistent, following us, mewing, and engaging in the "dive" in an attempt to receive some petting. Cats are clearly welcomed here.
We decided to check out a nearby bakery but it closes at 12:30. At an adjacent produce shop we picked up some lovely veggies and fruit as well as some delicious Ġbejniet, peppered sheep cheese. From the apartment we walked to the Maypole to pick up some ftira bread for dinner. Their street is muddy from the multitude of construction vehicles that were making walking past seem a bit precarious. It seems that no matter where we walk there is an active construction project in process. With some juggling to deal with insufficient sized cooking vessels we made our version of Aljotta with the fish broth that we had simmered for the past days following the recipe kindly offered when we purchased the hake. We sauted onion, leek (our variation), garlic, potato, celeriac (another variation), and tomato in a deep skillet. Added a handful of chopped basil and mint, salt and pepper. Then steeped it in broth in both our mini-stock pot and skillet. Delicious. The combination of mint and basil is one we would never have considered but it worked very well. As we slept it rained hard with occasional lightning.
with wormwood and juniper berries. We were told that the all of the hops, malt and yeast must be imported and the water undergoes reverse osmosis with added minerals - which makes it understandable why a beer culture didn't develop here equivalent to the local wine making.
Back in Victoria ir-Rabat we hunted for some cheap, light-weight paper suitable for making rubbings with the red chalk Jo purchased the other day. We searched a stationers, food market, and home supply store before being advised to try Maypole - which didn't have the paper we wanted - but is a bakery and we came out with some warm, fresh ftira bread. We gave up on our hunt but were content to have found a nearby source for bread. Just before reaching the apartment Jo decided to check a book store that turned out to have a fair range of different types of paper, one type was suitable for rubbings and she purchased 30 cents worth.
Walking back to the apartment we found Daniel's Fruit & Vegetables, a small stand with inexpensive and fresh produce. All we need now is to find a good local bakery for fresh bread. The rain started and we walked to the Il-Ħaġar – Heart of Gozo museum near St George's Basilica only to find signage on the door that it is closed until the 28th so we will have to visit next week. On the way back to the apartment we stopped for a delicious chocolate cake and espresso at the nearby Bunna Café. The following are mostly under-informed perceptions based upon admittedly very limited exposure to historic resources and casual conversations with locals (case in point: we found out that what we thought was cannonade from the Citadel being fired was just your run of the mill fireworks as the "Maltese celebrate everything with fireworks": Malta is a postcolonial country, having on recently been given their sovereignty by Her Majesty in 1964, ostensibly as reward for serving the war effort so well in WWII (why it took two decades to decide that the Maltese deserved freedom is another question). The Brits ruled for two centuries after kicking out the Napolean's French Republicans who had kicked out the Knights of St. John who were established in 1530 when Emperor Charles V, as King of Sicily, gave them Malta. The Great Siege of Malta (1565) was presaged by the Great Disaster of Gozo in 1559 when only those who were worthless as slaves were left behind by the invading Ottoman Turks. It becomes understandable why the law that all Gozitans stay within the walls of the Cittadella at night was passed as slaving raids were common. Maltese language is from the Ottoman rule of the island, and English is the second language due to the two centuries of British rule. From the Order of St John's reign, the Catholic Church remains a dominant force with the majority of schools run by various orders. We were told that omertà, the code of silence, is very much part of Gozitan culture, perhaps a hangover from the history of Sicilian rule. As a postcolonial nation that only recently gained its freedom from outside rule, it is to be expected that trust of outsiders isn't automatically given. Recent dramatic changes to the islands would tend to exacerbate that hesitance. As expected with Gozo's status as the second Island of the nation of Malta, it has less development though more than a few Gozitans have expressed anxiety that the recent building boom, while not as aggressive as Malta's is changing the rural beauty into "another Malta". Malta's housing prices have exploded, making the (at least for now) cheaper costs of Gozo an attractive option for young professionals, especially those who have been enabled to work remotely as result of the pandemic isolation demands. This, in turn, pushes the building boom and an increase of non-native Gozitans to the island which threatens the local and somewhat insular culture. On top of this, recent immigrants have also been attracted to cheaper costs of Gozo, many of whom are from sub-Saharan Africa, raising the specter of racist attitudes mixing in with concerns of losing a beautiful culture by being overwhelmed by sheer numbers of outsiders taking up residence.
No photos for this entry. We packed up and took our bags up to a nearby bus stop on the thoroughfare encircling the city along the waterline to order transport from Bolt. Had a little difficulty with credit cards (both the FSU travel card and our personal card) as they held payment for anti-fraud confirmations from us. As such, we aren't clear which card got charged. Just a little more administrative hassle to deal with, no biggie.
It was great to get outside of Valletta, into the countryside to see green, terraced fields. Lots of prickly pear everywhere. Saw a field of artichoke as well as other crops. The predominance of Maltese limestone as a building/fencing material is obvious. As it is a relatively soft, porous rock we found that it would come off on our clothes when we brushed by and the rain in Valletta had evidence of the erosion streaming down the stepped sidewalks. As is true with most urban locations, one must be careful where stepping as there is more than a fair amount of dog poop. Cats are pampered here, we saw several cat houses, beds, feeding stations by doorways. Pigeons are everywhere, walking near the tourists in hopes of feasting on some errant food droppings. Jo commented that the Maltese countryside reminds of New Mexico, except the view of the sea coast. We are here in the rainy season but Malta has a rather arid climate even though the sea imposes high humidity in the summer. Arrived at the ferry terminal. The crossing was a bit choppy as the wind was still above 25 knots but nothing alarming. Jo maintained focus to manage her chronic motion sickness but everything was fine. We made the mistake of taking an overpriced taxi from the ferry station. Arriving in ir-Rabat (Victoria) he informed us that he was cash only, which confirmed our suspicions that he wasn't really giving us an honest price. He also was unclear where our final location was - even though it is on the main road through town - a bit odd that he wasn't utilizing GPS (perhaps so there would be no official tracking of the trip?) No tip! Our phone message and text to our host Marla would not go through so we sent emails to all of those who are involved in our residency. Standing in front of the building we met another guest entering the building who, in spite of not speaking English, helped us as much as possible by calling the manager of the building as well as Marla (his attempt to reach her failed as well). Manuel the manager let us in. There was some confusion based upon our earlier emails about the cancelled ferry and he and Marla thought we weren't coming until Sunday. When Marla came she was very apologetic about the misunderstanding though our communications were a bit confusing so it was our fault as well. The studio apartment is small, with furnishings that exacerbate that perception. It is an efficiency apartment that isn't very efficient. However there are some very nice things like the nice sized table I'm sitting at to type this blog, the wash machine and small balcony. We spent some time organizing where things should go and, especially if our request for a few more supplies is fulfilled, it will work fine as a home base for the next three weeks. Rabat is only 1.1 square miles with a population of less than 12,000 yet, with our apartment's location on the main drag it feels rather urban. We need to get out and explore the town on foot though the rainy conditions today (Sunday) slow down the urgency to start walking. First stop may be for shopping for umbrellas.
oriented event from a historical site and enjoyed seeing a red phone box ala Dr. Who's tardis. When we came back to the store it showed no signs of opening at the appointed time so we came back to the apartment to make a wonderful meal of whatever was still left in the kitchen (onion, garlic, celeriac root, sweet potato, red pepper in a wine/balsamic vinegar sauce with local ricotta cheese over couscous).
Tomorrow morning we pack, get a ride with Bolt the Maltese version of Uber and take the ferry to Gozo to begin the next chapter of this adventure.
professionals they are a bit forgiving of programming shortcomings made due to insecurities. Afterwards we engaged in a bit of a postmortem which Andrea joined in and provided confirmation as to what we were thinking: in this case Less is More.
The site of Valletta was chosen for military purposes as the former capital (and until then only) city of Mdina had proven to be unsound geographically for defense. The building, and its twin sited to defend the port from the other side of the water, is at the highest point, an incredibly thick-walled silo with the rooftop positioning above attackers being the primary focus.
This large space feels more like the architect's installation than a space for others to create with their own voice. Over the designer's objections, metal pillars were repainted from their original green to a more neutral color in order to make the signature of the space a bit less imposing for artists who wish to install there.
During the tour Daniel shared some of the realities of funding they encounter. It seems that, though the specifics are slightly different, this is a common concern that Maltese creatives share with U.S. creatives.
Back on the street we stopped for some overpriced but delicious gelato (lime/basil and black currant) before heading to Anthony D'Amato Record store to hunt for local roots music. The owner was extremely helpful and shared that, established in 1885, it is claimed to be the oldest record store in the world. Ownership has remained in the family to the eldest son for five generations, he is the most recent to take charge. Through his recommendations we purchased three interesting cds, two of which the shop had been involved in mastering into discs. Walking back to our apartment we stopped at a beer pub to taste local craft beers that are brewed on the island of Gozo. We definitely will schedule a trip to the Lord Chambray brewery while we are in residence there.
Found slightly bigger blanket for each of us and turned the heat up from 16 C to 18. More comfortable night. Several times during the night the very loud sound of revelers shouting from the street or their cars revving woke P. There are several clubs and bars around here and the narrow canyons created by stone buildings make perfect resonating chambers. Even though it is not 'the season', there are lots of tourists about.
Paul Starter: Gbejna friska tal-halib tan-naghag - Fresh sheep's milk soft cheeselet set on grilled Maltese bread, spread with 'bigilla', served with Maltese style tomato and olive oil relish Main: Angla l-Furnara - Maltese bread dough topped with rabbit stew, peas, thin sliced potatoes, and sesame seeds Dessert: Imqaret - Date diamonds sweet pastry with a filling of dates and rose water, local honey and Maltese ice cream.
Very happy we had a long lay-over at the DeGaulle Airport in Paris. Storm hit in Atlanta as we were waiting to taxi for take-off. Winds were impressive. We sat on the tarmac for about an hour as we watched "Everything, Everywhere, All at Once" (quite enjoyable movie). Finally cleared for take-off. Pretty bumpy ride for quite awhile. Watched part of Dr. Strange Multiverses. Decided to stop and attempt sleep. Middling success at that effort.
Our connecting flight is at Terminal B gate D66. Told to take bus to Terminal B-D. On bus we are told we have to get off at Terminal F to get bus to Terminal B-D. Walk through labyrinth Disneyland line waiting for two wrong buses to pass before the right one. Our stop is the last one, before arriving back at where we were waiting for the bus. Packed in. Bus drives on roads with luggage prams driving very slowly that need to be passed. Terminal 1 is reached by crossing landing strips and then, despite the oval map of our route, we have to retrace our path to snake back to, finally, our stop.
Taxi explains he has to drop us off next to the tiny street where the Valletta Design Cluster is located. We turn down his offer to take our bags to our location and we promptly discover that we can't find where we need to go. Ask plumber in van where to go and he says that he's not from around here.....fortunately Jo had a Sim card installed in her phone so she is able to find directions, a minute walk. Stefan, the jovial, small security guard signs us in and Andrea the director shows us our room for the week. A centuries old, native stone building has been remodeled tastefully to create an ancient modern feel. We take a brief walk to a Discount Market which, when we find that it is cash only, the owner tells us he trusts us to bring the money later. Go to the corner store for more supplies. Dinner, shower, bed. |