The MaLta Mission

Hello my little carrot tops,
As I type my fingers are a flash of tan across the keyboard as I just got back from sunning myself in the land of Maltesers. It’s a magical land, with a crispy centre and a creamy coating, full of sensible shoes and simple pleasures. Maria and I set out on our trip at 3 in the morning after having made the decision it would be best to drink ourselves into a coma thus missing the 1.5hr bus-ride to Girona airport and subsequent flight to Malta. For me this plan went swimmingly, albeit solo as Maria got caught skyping until it was time to leave thus missing the many virtues of alcoholic slumber. We then spent 2hrs enjoying the delights of an airport at 5am, and boy did we delight! After dutifully polishing off one of the airports recommended pastries and indulging in the social commentary of people watching we boarded our flight and crossed an ocean leaving Barcelona for a week of sunshine and happiness.
On arrival we instinctively sought out the bus system that would take us to Valetta, the capital city (I use the term “instinctively” loosly as the buses are bright yellow and usually with some sort of religious sentiment spread across the windshield – we were lucky enough to get “the power of love” bus, together with stuffed toys hanging from the ceiling). On arrival we ventured through the bus station, stealthily avoiding the many sellers of delicious Maltese breads and pastries in search of breakfast. We obediently followed the signs directing us to “the Malta experience” where 5 men sat beneath the sign talking about stuff, something we found to be the Malta experience everywhere we went. A sign invited us in, to have a full English breakfast for 2 euros 50, naturally we were persuaded. My chair broke, it was awkward, a graceful fall, but awkward nonetheless. We spent the morning walking around the city trying to blend in with our cameras slung round our necks. We went to the markets I bought a scarf and a tea-towel. What?! Its for my nan K. After haggling the price for a horse ride down by 5euros we triumphantly set fourth on our requisite tourist indulgence (only to later find out by our couchsurfing hosts we had been ripped off by 15euros). Tired from all that sitting we went and sat, to drink wine. and beer. and wine. in an excavated café that took us 15minutes to find as it was a tunnel in the rockface.
After having exhausted our people watching commentary we ventured onwards, to Spinola Bay where our couchsurfing hosts lived. This little bay was so cute, as with all of Malta it looked half finished and still under construction but this just added to the charm of the place. It was like a little fisherman’s bay with tiny little colourful boats and water that tried to fit in and be as blue as the boats. My outfit coordinated perfectly with the boats and the blue and yellow phonebooths. As it was only 3oclock and she couldn’t meet us until 530 we did some lying as we had done enough sitting for the day. I went swimming, it was cold yet delightfully refreshing. After meeting up with Laura (probably a little too excitedly as it had been a long day and we were a little emotional) we shopped for food and cooked a feast – chicken, mushroom and pesto pasta. SO good. Their house had a terrace looking down into a jungle of what I thought was weeds until I looked closer one morning and saw a little old man collecting beans, bag full and slung over back he walked back to his tiny house (that I had previously thought a ruin).
We spent the next day in Sliema organising a boat trip to Gozo and Blue Lagoon and the rest of the day at Golden Bay receiving as many cancer rays as the sun would allow. In order to organise said boat trip we had to bargain along the strip to find the best deal, each time we went to a new person they told us stories of their competitors to deter us, apparently we were among thieves, liars, cheats and pedephiles. Lovely. That night we watched the fireworks from a boat, made friends with two Dutch boys (of indiscernible age from anywhere between 16 and 22) who had missed their boat and spent the whole trip contemplating swimming the length to get to it, finally calling a family over in their tiny boat and asking for a lift. They left us a full bottle of Amaretto. Win! With them gone, we were left talking to the salty old sea captain Nick, whom we chatted to safe in the knowledge he was more than triple our age, naively we accepted free wine and food and a lift home and in our drunken euphoria accepted his offer to take us round the island on his boat thus giving him our number. It wasn’t until the next morning we realised his impure intentions as we remembered the conversation following his offer: us, “how much will it cost?” him, “Oh you can afford it ”. Nothing is for free my friends. We then got creepy texts with devil smileys and at our refusal “I’m too old for you anyways”, ya think?! We thus realised the error of our ways and vowed never to talk to sweet old men again.
The next day we were picked up at 8am to go on the boat trip to Gozo and Blue Lagoon where we made friends with a sweet old man on the bus. We ferried across and bussed around Gozo looking at cultural shit like churches and stuff. Our bus driver was about 4ft. We ordered a bottle of wine for lunch and rabbit stew, we sat with our wine and our shawls being middle aged having a lovely conversation with a 60 year old British couple. I complimented her bright pink lipstick, half in jest – she gave it to me, I wore it, I was a vision as you can imagine. Then we got a speed boat to Blue Lagoon and I went all gilligans island on that shit exploring the cliffs and swimming and playing like a small child while Maria sunbaked like a 22year old. That night we had a dinner of maltese cheese, anchovy stuffed olives, prosciutto, maltese bread, and bean dip. Win.
The night we had gone to the fireworks and charmed quick nick we had also come home to a house full of frenchies (and swedes and a Norwegian), and somehow invited ourselves to a party at the Norwegians. So the next night we went to said “party” with Laura and Tibo. The “party” theme was western but pretty much an excuse for this Norwegian guy to dress as a sherrif and serve drinks from his tequila belt (I’m not gonna lie, it was actually pretty cool, the belt I mean). When Tibo pulled us aside and said “this is really boring” we agreed and left shortly after.
The next day we went to The Blue Grotto, but it was stormy and overcast so we couldn’t explore the caves and crevices on the colourful boats. Fail. That night we made an awesome soy chicken stir-fry and afterwards Tibo and Laura drove us to Mdina, the walled city. It was amazing! Only residents can drive cars in and there’s no horns allowed. It was a really cloudy night and as we walked through the tiny deserted streets it felt like we were walking through ghosts, the residents shushed me from their windows. It was awkward. We went to a winebar with a view of the whole of Malta. We ate cake and drank wine. Win! After that we drove into Sliema again to continue drinking. We walked along the water to get to this little shisha-bar where the water was literally lapping at the edges. We sat on colourful, hippie[dirty and possibly lice-ridden] rugs and drank cider and listened to the sweet sounds of the ocean, well I imagine that’s what we would have heard had they not been playing ounce ounce electro. Oh yeah and these random guys asked us to take a picture of them with OUR cameras, they practically insisted. That weird right? Its weird!
So this last day was the best weather of the whole trip, our skin was just recovering and BAM we fried the shit out of it again. We decided to go to this cute lil place for brunch. We were so seduced by their business philosophy which was all peace love and brown rice that we completely forgave them their shitty shitty service, (going back for cheese and cocktails that evening we could NOT forgive them the mojito – fail). We ordered orange juice and they were so excited about their fresh produce they pulled me aside and explained in frenzied enthusiasm that the oranges had JUST been picked less that half an hour ago and they STILL had dew on them!!!!! His smile was so sweet and expectant, I felt compelled to engage in the excitement of it all. (The juice was a total win ps.) After breaky we had to get a bus to Golden Bay where we would walk along the limestone cliffs and explore the nudist gay beaches. In the excitement of it all we forgot the bus number and after cursing maltas bus system realised it was entirely our fault and sulked until the right bus arrived after having waited 45mins and even completed a survey (did you know Malta is an up and coming medical destination – huh.) So here we are at golden beach on our way to be all Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn (I was Tom obviously) and we unwittingly stumbled across the hottest gardener ever, like, ever, like you know that sex and the city epi…well he was hot. But maybe we had been so scarred by our experience with Nick any guy was a win? These beaches were ah-mazing! The water was blue and speckled with snorkelers (I know they don’t count as nature but they kind of make it feel like a holiday ad campaign, you know?) and there were rocks and crevices and naked men and crev…well anyways it was definitely hmm how you say, inspiring.
The next morning we said goodbye to our beyond lovely hosts and flew far away from the land of Maltesers, within seconds the island had been reduced to a speck in the ocean. Amazing!
And that my friends is why Maltesers are awesome. Good talk.
xx