A great start to the day and then ...

St Paddy's Day - the wearing of the green. Luckily, it was a bit cooler today than it has been and I was able to wear my green sweater and be comfortably and suitably attired. It's impossible to say if the green shirts I saw on other people during our wanderings were all worn for the occasion. We opted NOT to go to St Julian's to join the surging multitude celebrating the occasion.

We travelled to Rabat on our favourite bus, the X3, to meet our host at the National Archives. It was a short walk from the bus and decorations were in evidence as preparation for the Feast of St Joseph on Wednesday. It's a national holiday. The narrow streets sported banners in honour of the occasion. 

At noon we heard what seemed to be a loud cannon, but it turned out to be the first of a group of fireworks. Rest assured, that in the daytime the biggest bang IS the bang. There's nothing much to see but puffs of smoke. I think it was a dress rehearsal for tomorrow's beginning of the Festa of St Joseph.

But I've gotten ahead of myself. We got to the Archives and were met by Melvin who gave us an excellent tour. To work in such beautiful surroundings must be wonderful. The views from the courtyard alone are enough to make you agree that where you work is important. Of course, they are short of space for storage and conservation, but they have some amazing materials.

The building was a hospital until the 1960s when the last patients were transferred elsewhere. It also served as a long-term care facility and an orphanage. There was a niche where parents could anonymously place unwanted babies in the 1600s,(don't quote me on the dates) and they would be raised in the orphanage until the age of about five. Some were adopted but it wasn't clear to me at what age. Often the child's name was included in a note with the child, but only the first name. Over time, the surname "Esposito" evolved from the term used to indicate the babies who were left, initially on church steps, and exposed to the elements. 

There are some remarkable documents, available for research. The passport applications were particularly interesting and often involved correspondence as well as photos and family details. Church records dating to the 1500s made me jealous.

Passport applications and correspondence pertaining to their issuance

From there we wandered off to find the Crystal Palace for what are supposed to be Malta's best pastizzi. We each bought one (50 Euro cents each) along with a drink (water for me) and enjoyed them in the nicest park I've seen yet. There were large trees and lots of benches. The public washrooms, while handy, were less noteworthy in so many ways that I won't describe them.

My feet were unhappy so I splurged on a horse-drawn carriage ride around Mdina, the silent city. Getting into the carriage was a chore in itself. Standing on the curb made it possible for me to reach the 'step' and actually get in. Getting out was a bit easier, but no more graceful. I certainly hope nobody was taking a video as I got in or out. 

Mdina now has only about 200 inhabitants, all wealthy. Well, except for the huge Benedictine convent which currently houses only four nuns. It's a cloistered order. The streets are very narrow but there were a few cars, to my surprise. If you are looking to buy a historic home, there's one available for a cool €7 Million. It's been on the market for two years without offers. Here are a couple of photos around the town.

The main entrance to Mdina. The pointy red ears are those of the horse pulling my chariot.

St Paul's Cathedral

A typical street in Mdina, the silent city

After my carriage ride, I was heading back to the main gate and met up with John and Glenn and we tried to find St Paul's catacombs in Rabat. Rabat is mere metres from Mdina. My feet thought it was kilometres. But although the map seemed to indicate we were in the right place - no catacombs. So, we went to find some lunch. For me, it was lunch bag letdown and doesn't bear describing. I'll just say that a soggy bun doesn't make for a very tasty chicken burger that was just a bun and a fried breaded hunk of chicken - nothing else inside. There was a small side salad. BUT, the Cisk Lemon didn't disappoint.

Over lunch we were struck by an email message. Our flight from Malta to Amsterdam on the 25th was cancelled. No substitution was offered. No alternatives. We'd just have to figure things out when we got back to our digs. 

Heading back to Qawra we took a different bus than usual, which showed us more of the town of Mosta and included another look at the domed church we'd visited a few days ago. All public buses, for us, end up at the Bugibba terminal about half a kilometre from "home" - luckily all downhill. I stopped at a Pharmacy on the way to get some bandaids for my feet. I'm hoping the investment is going to prove its worth in the coming days.

So - once home we had to get our bookings changed. We settled on heading back to Ottawa two days early since there was no way to get to Amsterdam. The flight from Amsterdam to Paris was still on. Handy, eh? 

Glenn had booked directly with Air France and although it took a little time, he was able to get a seat on a flight to Paris and then on to Ottawa on the 25th. I'd booked John's and my tickets through Expedia for TD. Everything had always gone smoothly in the past. Not this time.

Logging into the website proved challenging as they wanted to send me a text message for security. I stupidly forgot to turn on Flight mode so opening up my phone number for this purpose resulted in a $16 charge for roaming. Okay - my bad. Well, once logged on, the itinerary showed up, including the cancellation. Getting it amended was a nightmare. 

The Virtual Assistant (online chat) kept repeating the same thing and showing me the itinerary. Finally, it said to call the helpline. It didn't work. We tried from two different phones using every possible combination of long-distance prefixes before the number. Call Failed. and failed. and failed. There's no email address to use. Finally, on the Expedia Facebook page, I sent a message, and that brought an instant response from a live human being - the very helpful Mae. 

But it turns out that Expedia and Expedia for TD are not quite joined at the hip. After explaining to Mae what had to be done, she couldn't help directly. Ultimately I provided my phone number, since I was roaming now anyway, she called me then conferenced in another woman also named Mae, from Expedia for TD. It only took three hours in total, but John and I are now heading home on the 25th with Glenn, and bypassing Amsterdam altogether. That will be a trip for another day - hopefully with happy feet.

Now to reserve our seats on the Air France flight. Fingers crossed that it's not as arduous as changing dates.