We’ve been dropped off in Valletta’s big square, flanked by the Grand Master’s Palace. While the golf cart transport had boasted its ‘hop-on-hop-off’ facility, this turns out to be the one and only ‘hop-off’. Hmm…

But we’ve arrived at the top of the steep climb from the harbour, at least and can wander a bit. I’m fascinated by the architecture- especially the ‘gallerija’- the protruding windows everywhere, mostly painted green. They were constructed to allow ladies a view of the streets.

While yesterday had been sunny and breezy, today is overcast and breezy- but we’re undeterred and can get a first look at this most beautiful and historic capital. The palace is open to visitors but we’ll leave it for now and stroll [carefully] the streets to get a flavour of the place. The square is at the end of a main street, Republic Street, a wide, paved, straight road lined with elegant old buildings of honey coloured stone. This large square leads to a neighbouring, smaller one housing a library, in front of which a terrace is crammed with cafe tables.

The entire street is thronged with tourists, even on this cool, windy, overcast March day. the rest of the street is lined with gift shops, cafes, bars and the art gallery- which is not the home of the Caravaggio exhibition, we are to learn. It is housed inside St John’s cathedral- further back, where a long, snaking queue is waiting. We continue along to the end of Republic Street and out into another large square with a vast, elegant facade. A throng of flag-waving, whistle- blowing teenagers in matching T-shirts is on the steps, just as a cavalcade arrives bearing the prime minister! There is very little in the way of security. We could walk right up to him and splat a custard pie in his face should we wish- which we don’t. He spends some time chatting to his young fans.

On the way back along Republic Street, we decide to join the queue outside the cathedral, since it hasn’t grown. We reach the entrance and get a bag search then enter the cathedral- and it is breathtaking, every surface an intricately decorated work of art. The floor consists of colourful scenes in marble, the main body of the building a riot of silver and gold, each tiny chapel encrusted with decor and the ceiling astonishing.

As for the Caravaggio ‘exhibition’, it consists of one painting, accompanied by video footage of his life and work. He was an interesting character and a bit of a rogue- having murdered and escaped capture- but I already know about him, so we drift off and make our way back to Republic Street, from where it’s all downhill to the ferry.

On Sliema side, there’s a wealth of cafes and restaurants to choose from. Most offer a mainly Italian style menu, although Malta is noted for rabbit dishes- not an ingredient I’m drawn to. But pasta is fine by me. Next to our hotel is the Queen Elizabeth pub, too, peddling a range of British pub grub and almost-beer. It’s convenient for us and an improvement on the hotel dinner offering.

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com