A tropical (I mean cloudy) getaway

cheap flights to Malta? I'm in

I had planned to publish this blog reliably on Sundays, but life happens. Or rather, the Italian lifestyle happens.

I have been staying up too late, too often (too much Italian karaoke, which I have a real love-hate relationship with). Eating dinner past 8:00, staying out later, taking the first and last trains of the day. I expect that as the weather gets warmer, this will only be amplified, and I can say goodbye to 8 hours of sleep a night. Once, when asking a friend about this phenomena of the Mediterranean up-late-up-early lifestyle (ma come?), she just finished her glass of wine and said, “Actually, yes this lifestyle is a real problem but it is also the best.” Certo.

*** 

Last weekend, I dipped down even further into the Mediterranean - to Malta! Our Airbnb was literally within a cave, and if you leaned against the walls a powdery clay residue would be left on your jacket. Despite this, the Airbnb was incredibly charming with some lovely views. 

After a leisurely wake-up, we took a taxi to the bay where our boat would be departing from, arriving at exactly 10:29 when the boat was slated to leave at 10:30. So we sprinted to the dock, ignoring the jeers of the folks on the catamaran (mind you they were dressed like it was summer…tourists!!). And, of course we made it with time to spare.

The boat weaved alongside the island, pulling up alongside cliffs, an elephant shaped rock, and various lookout towers. Being an island in the Mediterranean is not for the weary - Malta has been leased by the king of Sicily, was under British influence, and has been attacked many more times. The exhaustive list of influences includes: the Phoenicians, Romans, Greeks, Arabs, Normans, Sicilians, Swabians, Aragonese, Hospitallers, French, and British.

No filter, baby!!

Before I go further, an ode to the Maltese sea. 

The water was sensational. I knew it would be, because when I mentioned my trip to Malta every single person said, “ahhh the water!”, which to me, felt like quite the statement from a country known for il mare. 

The color was so alluring, this vibrant mix of cerulean and azure existing in huge patches by the shore and cliffs. Despite the sea breeze it looked so enticing, so much so that when we stopped at Comino, the location of the blue lagoon, some passengers sprinted into the shimmery pockets of the sea, only to exclaim how cold it was.

What made the blue even more special was how mesmerizing and sharp-colored it was, even on a cloudy March day. Against the sepia-toned cliffs and early spring blooms it was even more stunning. If anyone ever asks me about Malta, I’ll similarly exclaim with wide eyes and a vague gesture, “Ahhhh the seaaaa!”

Some aptly-placed flowers.

After a traditional lunch in Gozo - Rabbit, chicken mushroom pie, and Maltese ravioli - we boarded the boat to take us back. During the boat ride before Gozo there had been the occasional announcement via the loudspeaker in various, muffled languages, but you couldn’t really hear anything between the radio static, the wind, and other tourists. And then, rather ominously, a loud voice came on the loudspeaker and said, “THE WAY BACK IS NOT SO GOOD.”

At the time, we found this hysterical, until the light, charming sea spray turned into “gentle peppering” and then into full on blasts of water, soaking our backs and necks. Each time the boat hit a wave everyone on the upper deck laugh-gasped-yelped. We rocked so much that it felt like any minute, someone would fly off the deck (hopefully it would be one of the annoying boys in the back??). In the panic, some people tried to get downstairs; others just turned their face towards the water and became soaked. And at perhaps the worst stretch, a member of the crew was on the very top of the boat, above the captain, doing god-knows-what in the winds and rains on the slippery deck.  I’m convinced he was showing off. 

I think the “not so good stretch” was either 5 minutes or 5 hours, but we will never know…

*** 

We also spent ample time in Valletta, the capital, and Mdina, the silent city. Valletta was oddly San Franciscan, my friend pointed out, because it was really hilly, with streets stretching rather steeply up the city. All over Malta there are these charming, colorful popped-out porch seat windows that, it turns out, were designed to make for easy gossip!! I love the Maltese. 

A steep side street in Valletta, complete with a pose

Tell me EVERYTHING!!!

Because Malta has a strong British influence (driving on the left side of the road!), there were also some lovely British foods we indulged in. (Has anyone described British food as lovely before?) Indian food, burgers and chips (aka fries), beer and cider aplenty, and of course…Crunchie bars!! Crunchies are chocolate covered honeycomb, and I think we consumed at least one a day and then bought at least 5 to take back to Italy. We had a strict “no Italian food for the weekend” rule and enjoyed some traditional ftira (bread for sandwiches) and even cooked tacos one night. 

Mdina, the silent city, was our favorite. A towering, regal church, quiet streets protected by an oddly long-legged cat, and more beautiful sandy-colored stone. We also happened to be there on the day after the election, and the Labour Party had won by a landslide. People were crowded onto the flatbeds of dump drunks, day drinking and setting off crackers all day. 85% of Malta showed up to vote, their lowest number since independence from the UK. Lowest.

Malta was such an ideal travel destination because we spent 90% of the time wandering with cameras and turning down windy streets for pictures, a cafe, or a drink. You’d be hard pressed to avoid the sea on this island, and pops of blue and lush green farms could be seen all over.

It was strange to spend 5 days senza italiano-at the Rome airport when I frantically asked a Trenitalia staff member about changing my ticket. I spoke in English--only to remember, “oh yeah, I can say this all in Italian.”

Viterbo is very close to the airport, but naturally the trains make it very far away and cumbersome so I crashed with my cousin Fabrizio in Rome, where we enjoyed some delicious leftovers that his mom had made, salsiccia and friarielli, a Napolitano green, for dinner.

The next morning, I made it to Roma Termini unscathed. I watched some Americans fumble through the intricate bar experience while I smugly drank my macchiato, thrilled to be blending in in one of the most touristy of places…Until I glanced at my phone, seeing it was 7:21 and the train left at 7:27, and regional trains are always on the furthest, most inconvenient platforms. O diooo. I sprinted, and I mean sprinted, to the train, and made it. As I slumped all sweaty in my seat, I thought: yeah, I deserved that.

Ah, once more I rambled on and on but readers, I just had to tell you about the Maltese water and the gossip porches. We’ll return to Italy content soon enough.

A presto!

Liv (Leeeev as the Italians say)