Tag Archives: Malta

Many Harbours

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It’s our penultimate day on Malta and time do use our ticket for the harbour tour, which was part of a bundle of tickets for sightseeing. We’ve been unable to use the ticket due to choppy seas and high winds, but finally, on Friday the winds calm a little and the boat can go. This does not, however, signify hot- or warm weather, so we choose to sit inside, which is very comfortable and pleasant.

Valletta’s harbour is an amalgam of many harbours, the coast of Malta here serrated like a pancake edge and dotted with tiny islands. Almost every part has a fortification looming high above the water with watchtowers. One huge area is for cruise ships, a couple in today getting refurbished as a jaunty crane embellished to look like a giraffe swings its neck back and forth.

Another part of the harbour houses cargo shipping and ferries- one massive catamaran the ferry to Sicily, Malta’s nearest neighbour. Then there’s a section for private yachts, of which there are a few large and luxurious specimens, of course. Here, also we spot the other side of the science centre we’d passed on the bus, the water side boasting a huge globe.

In the afternoon we wander to the back of Sliema, which has a pleasant enough seafront though nothing outstanding- no promising restaurants either. And it’s windy and a little chilly.

The next day is our last. Another look at the old town seems essential and there’s still much we haven’t seen, so we get a bus this time, round to ‘bus station’ which is next to some gardens. They aren’t spectacular, but the upper level has some colourful flower beds. There is a beautiful arched wall giving views over the harbour and the canon, which are fired each day at 4pm.

We walk back to the city centre and to the main square, where some kind of event is being set up, then get tickets for a peek at the Archbishop’s Palace. By far the most astonishing sight here is the collection of armoury- housed in a vast, long hall- cases and cases full of ancient weapons, from bows and arrows to rifles and pistols, canon, full suits of armour, chain mail, helmets, breast plates- every ancient weapon and item of warfare is here.

We cross an elegant courtyard to view the state rooms, although they are less impressive. The eagle-eyed staff that police each room are fierce guards, one nudging me away from a model table I inadvertently touch!

We leave the palace and stroll down to the ferry terminal, getting a beer in a waterside restaurant while we wait. There’s a long queue for the ferry but we are board ok and return to Sliema and our last evening on Malta.

It’s an island I’d return to, and there were plenty of sights and experiences we neglected. Another time, however I’d go a little later in the year, waiting for warmer temperatures and less of a breeze!

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

…And then the South…

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Thursday of our week in Malta and time to take out second bus tour- this time to see the south of the island. Whilst in the ‘Queen Elizabeth’ pub I’d become absorbed by a tourist video of a fishing village. I thought I’d love to go there. It turns out the village is on the bus tour of the south. Hooray! We can stop off and have a quick look. The village is called Marsaxlokk and it’s anybody’s guess how it’s pronounced.

The day is just a little less breezy and slightly warmer than the previous day, when we’d had to sit inside to avoid getting blown to smithereens, so when the open-top comes we clamber upstairs and sit as near to the front, undercover part as we can, which is not under, but nearly!

Our first stop is in Valletta, which is familiar territory by now, then there’s a lot of twisty turns and narrow streets to negotiate before we’re out in the countryside. The outskirts of the city are densely built, blocks of flats piled in, pastel coloured and higgledy-piggledy, a forest of aerials flying above.

Driving out of Valletta this way is a complicated business of circling around each harbour as well as a lot of ups and downs, but at last we’re in the open.

We arrive to Marsaxlokk, stopping at the end of a curving quayside where a string of restaurants are serving luscious looking seafood- and all look busy. We’ve an hour to wander before the next bus comes but first we make for a bakery selling coffee and a range of delicious things. We opt for spherical apple pies and sit in the sunshine. The far end of the quay hosts a tourist market, stalls selling all manner of edibles, ceramics, flags, lace etc

It’s all very beautiful here- and by far the most spectacular sight is the fishing boats, which are painted in bright, primary colours and have a protruding eye of Horus either side of the prow. Most are bobbing about in the little bay but some are drawn up on the slipway or in the process of getting refurbished.

the hour passes quickly and we walk to the bus stop. Soon we’re underway again. We’ve no interest in the ‘Popeye’ village- an ageing film set for the Popeye film, which, I have to admit passed me by when it came out in the early eighties. I’d no idea there was such a film, which apparently starred Robin Williams.

Back in Sliema, we attempt a read by the hotel’s pool, which is across the road, or can be accessed by a tunnel underneath, past the spa and beauty salon. We manage an hour before the cool wind drives us back into the building.

In the evening we decide to try another pub, further down the street. It’s tiny, but looks promising, initially. We order a pizza [Husband] and pasta [me]. There is a loyal gathering of Brits who clearly love this place and return- not only to Malta, but to this pub, year in and out.

The meals come, remarkable only in that they are two of the worst meals out we’ve ever had. We won’t be joining the loyal clientele here…

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

Breezy Bus to the North

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We’ve to fit two bus tours and a harbour tour into our week in Malta and it’s Wednesday already. But high winds and choppy seas have anchored the harbour boat, so a bus trip it is, to enable us to see as much of the island as possible. The tour of the north includes a visit to Mdina, Malta’s old capital, which is perfect. We can have an hour looking at this ancient city and get on to the next bus, which allegedly comes round in an hour’s time.

We head into the inside of the bus, since it’s neither warm nor calm enough to sit upstairs in the open, although a few hardy souls are attempting it. Once we get underway, some of them decamp down inside, looking battered!

I like getting a chance to see some of the interior of the island. I always like to see what grows and how the people live. The rural areas are criss-crossed with dry stone walls, much like our Dorset, UK countryside, except that it’s divided up into much smaller areas like allotments.

The roads around Mdina are very busy and once we get to the approach road, on a hillside, we’re down to inching upwards towards the top. We’d seen the walled city as we approached as it’s set up high in the landscape.

We’re dropped outside the walls by a kind of park, where patient horses are waiting for sightseers to take up an offer of a carriage ride. There’s a public toilet here, but judging by the queues- [especially for the women’s, as usual] it may be the one and only opportunity, so we have to use some of our precious hour to queue up.

There’s a short bridge over a moat then we’re in through the gate and it would be like stepping back to medieval times were it not for the throngs of tourists everywhere. There’s more shelter from the stiff breeze here inside the walls and it’s pleasantly warm. Horses and carriages clatter around the streets, looming up alarmingly from unexpected corners. We stroll. It isn’t a large city but the buildings are magnificent- in particular a church with a most beautiful, painted ceiling. Further up the street we emerge into a small square and a portion of wall that can be walked upon. There is a smattering of gift shops, although it isn’t too commercialised.

An hour is long enough to get a flavour of Mdina, so we wander back and across the bridge to the park, where the loo queue is as long as ever. Husband, of course, reappears in no time and goes over towards the area of bus stops, little knowing that my queue extends inside the toilet block. When I emerge he is shouting for me to hurry as the bus is about to leave and he’s prevented the driver from leaving- phew!

We stop at a few more places pass by some of the large resorts that dot the north coast, like St Paul’s bay. Looking at these, I’m glad we’re based at Sliema as the weather isn’t lending itself to lolling around on a sun lounger.

Later, we walk down the road to ‘Giorgio’s’, where we get a very delicious meal. We still have a bus trip and a harbour tour to fit into our week.

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

Small Island

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Once upon a very long time ago, a beautiful, olive skinned Maltese woman met and was courted by a red-haired, British sea captain. They married and she was brought to live in Plymouth; at least- that’s the vague bones of the story of my great grandparents and I may have embellished even this, sketchy tale. But my mother somehow inherited the olive skin and the jet black hair which I assume were attributes of my great grandmother.

It has taken me all these years to visit the small, Mediterranean island of Malta, birthplace of my great grandmother and ideal, we think, for an early spring break.

We can fly from our local airport- a mere 10 minutes taxi ride from our house. I’ll skip the grim realities of flying with a budget airline this time, having detailed the joyless experience in a previous post…

We arrive in the dark, mid-evening and are transported to our hotel- an enormous, shiny block at the end of the peninsula of Sliema, which faces, on one side, across a stretch of water, the beautiful and historic capital, Valletta. We have not stepped out of the plane into a hot and balmy night. It’s breezy and tolerable- warmer than at home in the UK but not ‘sitting outside’ weather. Still…we’re here.

After being shown to a vast room complete with vast bed, we return down to ground floor and are just in time to consume the remnants of dinner- which had been ‘Tapas night’ but was now a range of tenuously described tapas in a less than newly prepared state, for which we pay a princely sum- not being in a position to seek an alternative. We repair to the bar, whose meals would have constituted a better proposition, had we known they were available. Still…

After breakfast [the usual hotel buffet-style bun fight], reception furnishes us with a map and we’re lucky to meet Karen, who is a fount of information and ideas- then we set off to explore, although in a slow manner, due to my incapacity of the hip. It’s sunny but with a cool wind as we walk [hobble in my case] down past the conglomeration of high rise flats and hotels that comprise Sliema’s waterfront towards the bend housing ferry terminal, bus stops and cruise jetties. The other side of the road is lined with cafes and restaurants- all busy.

We’re beginning to find our way around and Karen has given us some good ideas. We can get a pass for two bus tours plus a harbour tour, which seems a good deal and will give us a chance to see as much of this small island as possible in our week. For now, we’ll attempt a ferry crossing to Valletta for an initial look round, which might be challenging for me, given that I’ve acquired a hip problem. Still…

The ferry is efficient and only takes a few minutes to travel the short stretch of water between the two cities, although when we disembark, the first hurdle looms- an extremely steep climb up to the first level of Valletta. There are, however, a couple of ‘golf-cart’ type buggies offering ‘hop-on-hop-off’ tours for 5 euros, which seems cheap- and we are about to discover why. The buggy takes us up and around a few of Vallettas narrow streets then stops in the main square- and that’s that. Still…

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