Planes, Trains and Automobiles and now back in Eire

This trip was quickly planned and made possible by the availability of buddy passes from WestJet courtesy of my friend Jesse. The seat was Standby and fortunately, there was a nice middle seat in Row 12 with my name on it. My seating companions were quiet, the flight was a bit bumpy (rather like driving over the potholes in Ottawa), but I would not say turbulent. And I managed to fall asleep for a few hours, missing whatever was on offer as the meal around midnight.

Saturday, 27 September was a busy one. Thanks to friend, Peggy, I was driven to the train station to start the adventure. Thanks to VIA rail I had a lovely trip to Toronto. The only problem was I had chosen my seat as one facing forward, in the direction of travel. I guess someone forgot to tell whoever attached Car #1, to turn it around. I ended up facing the direction from which we had come. Ah well, I didn't really notice as my attention was diverted to the Detective story I was able to start and finish on the trip.

In Toronto's Union station I got directions to the UP (train link to the airport), used my Presto card, and travelled to Pearson International. There I enjoyed a supper at Fionn MacCool's pub. Fionn (pronounced FIN) was nowhere to be found, probably because the ceilings would have been too low for him. If you don't know what I'm talking about, look him up. 

Security screening was a breeze - I got to keep my shoes on, they didn't even ask if I had any liquids and instead of an invasive pat down because of my titanium knees, I only got a lovely dose of x-rays as I stood in the machine. Can you see my nice warm glow?

I briefly met with Jesse, whose flight was heading to Edinburgh and she walked me to my departure gate and introduced me to staff. That is probably what got me the good seat. Thank you WestJet folks. I gate-checked my carry-on and only had to deal with my backpack on board. With the number of carry-on suitcases jammed into the overhead bins, this was a good decision on my part.

It did necessitate waiting for my bag to appear on the luggage carousel and surprisingly, the wait was pretty short. Thank you again WestJet for the careful placement of my bag.

Then it was on to Budget for my rental car. There was a shuttle of course but standing in the sunshine waiting for it was no hardship at all. Picking it up, having satisfied their many requirements, was also painless. If you are over 75, be warned. There are lots of conditions to meet in order to actually drive away. But wow was this car worth it. I'm now driving an Audi with bells and whistles I'll probably never learn about.

All of this activity was interrupted, and still is, checking on the Ryder Cup. It's looking very promising for the Europeans. Hurray! This despite the nasty heckling US fans.  

Once in the car I relied on the Waze app to guide me out of the airport. Well, I don't know who is the voice of Waze but it's not the voice of anyone who knows that route. I drove in what I soon realized was the wrong direction, found a friendly driver at a service station, followed him to the correct turn for the M50 and after that it was a breeze.

I thought I had turned off Waze and turned on Google Maps. I hadn't. Once on the M50 both apps were telling me where to go. By that point I was OK for directions but couldn't turn off the apps while driving. Then, to add a lovely few minutes, Waze started telling me, time after time, without interruption, Turn right onto Hwy 132. Again and again and .... Finally, grateful I had an iPhone, I asked Siri to turn of Waze. Siri couldn't understand me over that repeating voice. Eventually she did and then only Google Maps was providing "guidance."

All was well until I turned from Castledermot onto the Tullow Road. Suddenly my guiding voice told me there was a 5-minute delay or slowdown. Yup. I seemed to be in the middle of old cars and tractors, and one old mini-tractor, heading to some sort of show. 

Now what I have not said, is that I hadn't had any coffee and had slept a mere three hours or so - managing to miss both feeding opportunities on the plane. 

I got to my first destination of Egan's so I could meet Tomas, the new baby. He's beautiful and at seven weeks is keeping his parents on a great schedule - for him. And Lar made me two large cups of delicious coffee and Mary provided a delicious ham and cheese sandwich on brown bread. Music to my mouth.

Paddy and I talked about some family history issues which I'm going to pursue in more detail while I'm here. Mary Egan brought up the subject of golf. AND, we're going to play 9 holes at Coollattin tomorrow. Yay. I knew there was a reason to pack the newly-acquired Interclub shirt.

A brief visit to Coolruss provided not only a lovely chat and a piece of very tasty apple tart, Mary gave me chicken and potatoes for supper. I'm enjoy them now. And, there's bread and butter for toast in the morning and some fruit. Everyone is already spoiling me.

Thus ends today's rather wordy "much ado about nothing." Bless you if you've read this far. I promise to be more interesting in future posts.

And now I'll say Good Night and hope I manage more than three hours. I want to be sharp for the golf game. Maria has kindly lent me her newly acquired clubs and I have the honour of being the first to use them. Irish hospitality knows no bounds.

And now back to the Ryder Cup. I want to know that Europe won before I retire for the night.

Home now and recovery has begun

Yesterday was not the travel day we had originally planned. We came home instead of heading to Amsterdam. That was because Malta Airlines cancelled that leg of our trip. It took some scrambling to adjust our itinerary to simply come home directly on the 25th. We thought the entire flight had been cancelled.

With our new flight being at 6:10am, we had our driver collect us at 4 am. We'd slept, briefly. Well, enough to get through what would be a day of tested patience anyway. 

Arriving at the airport, checking in, and clearing security easily, had us off to a good start. Then we got to the departures area and looked at the Flight Departures board. Our flight was on time, but no gate was posted yet. That was no big deal. What startled us was seeing the flight we'd been told was cancelled, flying to Amsterdam as we'd booked. 

Only later did we learn that airlines sometimes book blocks of seats on partner airline flights, but some backroom negotiations can result in those block bookings simply being cancelled. We don't know how or why, but we'd been tossed aside. Ah well, at this point, we were not unhappy to be heading home. My feet in particular were looking forward to wearing the shoes I should have brought with me.

The flight from Malta to Paris was uneventful. And then we arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. And the test of our patience was launched again. Our boarding passes said we would depart from Gate L30. We did nothing to check whether that was still true. Our mistake, as it turned out.

The journey to the L-gates of terminal 2E involved a good deal of walking to the connections area and then waiting quite a while for a shuttle. The shuttle ride was not nearly as long as last time and we duly emerged at the stop for the L-gates. Another step count of one or two thousand, earned on some non-moving sidewalks and some non-moving escalators, brought us almost to L30. And then we read the departure board to check the boarding time. WHAT??? the gate on the board was K35. 

There was a QR code reader that we used to verify our boarding passes, which now told us that indeed K35 was where we needed to be. K comes before L in the alphabet. It comes after L on the shuttle. So, as told on the sign, we had at least a 20-minute walk which brought us to a 20-minute wait for the shuttle to the next stop, and then we walked some more. Luckily, when we saw that yet another escalator was just a fancy-looking flight of stairs, we happily spotted the elevator. Finally, we were in the right area. If you add up all the times I mentioned you may not get the same two-hour total that I later mention. Have I told you that I'm numerically challenged? Well, we were not really checking intervals times as we went along either.

We had four hours from arrival to projected departure and by the time we reached K35 we had two hours to kill. Happily, there was a little kiosk selling drinks and food. I was able to get a Capuccino and a chocolate croissant so I was happy at last. As were my feet. We lingered at the table, tippy though it was, and then moved 100 yards or so to the departure gate where I read my e-book until time to board.

The Air France flight was great. The food was delicious and came with a small bottle of water and your choice of wine. Insert smile here. Later, we had a snack consisting of a bun with some sort of shredded carrot filling, a drinkable yogurt and an apricot thing that looked like a sunken muffin, but it was nice. The cabin crew were very good and all was well. The flight landed at 3:40. 

Passing through Customs and Immigration was easy and quick as I'd filled out the Arrive Can app and was in a priority line, received something like a receipt from the machine, passed it to an inspector where I got a customs pass and I was off to collect my suitcase. John and Glenn took a little longer in that process.

The luggage came out in batches and were ours in the first batch?  Ha ha ha ha ... got the picture? Across the carousel were two CBSA officers with a drug-sniffing dog. They identified and removed several suitcases and put them aside. We never saw what ultimately happened, although one cooler was opened and obviously passed inspection and was given another ride on the carousel.

Then the second batch arrived. By this time my feet were sore so I found a seat within sight of the carousel, and I watched our suitcases NOT arrive. Eventually, in batch three, we got them. I called my friend for the lift home and arrived chez moi around 5:30. That's the longest I've ever waited for luggage. My air tag told me it was nearby so I knew it would eventually show up.

By this time we'd been up for 19 hours after only four hours of sleep. I managed to stay vertical until 8 pm when I went to bed. I woke up at 5:15 quite nicely rested. It might be premature to say, but I feel like I've already adjusted to Ottawa time now. We'll see how I feel at 7 pm tonight.

All in all, it was a fabulous holiday. We are still speaking happily with each other after the three weeks of sharing accommodations. And we are all glad to be home.

Thank you for joining me on this adventure. Rest assured that there will be another blog when next I venture to foreign shores. There will be no trips to the US in the foreseeable future. 

Wowed by opulence - an excellent farewell day

We were able to visit St John's Co-Cathedral in Valletta this morning, after thinking we would miss it. The funeral of the bishop took place on Saturday and it was reopened to the public on Sunday. Thinking there might be large crowds on the weekend, we waited until today. Arriving minutes after it opened we still had to wait in line to enter, and get "wanded" in a very cursory manner, and our bags were subject to a quick peek by security. Airline security staff would be appalled at the quick once-over we received. We were grateful.

The entrance fee included an audioguide, an absolutely essential piece of kit, to know what you are looking at. The information was lengthy and if you accidentally touched your cheek to the screen on the guide, you found yourself listening to a completely different narrative. 

In the end, I moved freely around the cathedral and didn't visit the various chapels in sequence. I listened to enough to situate the particular chapel and then just gazed, open-mouthed in many cases. Mass is celebrated in each chapel once a year, on the feast day of the saint represented in the paintings or sculptures. 

The recently deceased bishop lay in state in the Oratory where the Caravaggio painting of the beheading of John the Baptist is on display. His funeral was in the nave, or main body of the building.

The interior of this cathedral defies description. The opulence, the over-the-top "extras," the decorated floor, and the fact that this building is over 500 years old can't help but impress. Everyone visiting was blown away. And then I started to think about what the money spent on it could have done for those in need, the shine came off a little bit. But indeed ,I was impressed and glad that I'd finally seen it for myself.

I took far too many photos, some of which will be deleted, but here are a few to give you an idea.

An overall look at the interior. Even the floor is incredible. I'm not certain
if each rectangle is covering a separate tomb or just another piece of art
accompanied by a Latin inscription.

The oratory with the painting of the Beheading of John the Baptist by Caravaggio.
I was not alone in the room, I just waited my turn to stand at the rope to take the picture.

There are two sets of organ pipes, high up to the left and right of the main altar. I never did see where the organ is that is connected with the pipes. I don't know if there is only one organ or if there are two.

A closer look at one of the panels found around the chapels. Each one is unique.

Our Lady's Chapel where you can enter to pray but must get no closer to take pictures.
This is by far the most ornate chapel and has the most silver of any of them. The objects
that look black are actually silver, including the 'fence'. No, it does not need polishing at the moment
so I imagine there must be staff whose job it is to dust and polish at night. That's my guess, based on nothing at all. 

When we had seen enough, we exited and wandered up a side street looking for a small cafe where we could enjoy a final cappuccino. We found the Museum Cafe and indulged in our last pastizzi along with the coffee. It was in support of the local economy you understand. The diet begins on Wednesday. Tomorrow we're travelling and will be subject to airline food. The meal on Air France is part of the air fare. The food available on the Air Malta flight to Paris is available for purchase. I have my breakfast sandwich already made and in the fridge.

As we sat waiting for the coffee, a crowd of tourists on a guided walk sauntered by. We felt like we were on display and contemplated giving them a royal wave. But, we didn't. It's not so obvious from this picture, but the seating was on a slant. Glenn and I were downhill from John. 

Then it was time to catch a bus back to Bugibba for the last time. The service is quite dependable, although we'd been warned otherwise. The trick is to get on at one of the first few stops on the route so that you get a seat. We've been exceedingly fortunate in that regard. I commented recently that I never saw anyone offer a seat to a person who qualified for the priority seating when the bus was full. It happened twice today so my opinion of the locals has risen.

How they maintain anything resembling a schedule is amazing. The traffic is horrendous no matter what day or time you are using the service. I suppose they build that into the time estimates.

A few more musings before I sign off. 

There is very little litter anywhere. Malta is very clean. They must somehow be related to Icelanders. Waste and recycling bins are found almost on every corner and they are well used. This is in contrast to the fact that bags of compostable waste (collected Mon-Wed-Fri), recycling,(Thursday) and general waste (Tuesday and Saturday) are placed in their colour-designated bags and simply left on the street in front of any apartment building or home. They don't have raccoons here so we've seen little spillage. Collection using large garbage trucks, every day, might be responsible for delaying some buses. What's magic is how the buses and trucks manouever on the narrow roads and streets.

There are human street sweepers who make sure that the streets remain clean, and that alone is impressive. They have a broom, a dustpan and a wheelie bin for what they sweep up. This morning we saw a group of employees hosing down and sweeping away the water from the area where we caught the bus. Imagine, washing the pavement, or maybe it was made of marble tiles!

Most of the staff in the hospitality industry are not native Maltese. They come on work permits that have to be renewed annually. If you come from a non-EU country it costs at least €300 to renew the permit. It is less expensive if you are from the EU. Getting permanent residence status is difficult, because this is the second most densely populated European country and immigration isn't really encouraged. Vatican city has 1800 people per square kilometre and Malta has a mere 1686. 

There are a number of derelict buildings in the cities. It made me wonder if they have a homeless problem. With so many empty buildings, isn't that wasting valuable real estate? Maybe they are awaiting renovations. Most people live in apartments and each one seems to have a balcony of some sort. The buildings seem to be joined together. You know when it's a different building because the balconies vary from one to the next.

The farmland consists of quite small plots and I've seen no evidence of motorized machinery like tractors. I've seen farmers working their plots by hand with hoes and rakes. Grapes are harvested in late summer when it's very hot, so work begins at 5 am and ends at 10 am. Irrigation is from the ground water that they are able to access for the irrigation systems. The soil is very sandy looking and to me it's a miracle that anything grows. But it does produce amazing strawberries.

The photos have shown how hilly Malta is. What I have not taken pictures of are the sidewalks. They are usually of rather badly laid brick, mixed with construction panels on top of open spaces where they are burying wires, and other assorted bumpy unstable materials. You really must watch your step. We often walk on the road and watch for cars. 

We've pretty much packed up our gear and enjoyed our final dinner at Michele's restaurant. We are in the midst of a final tidying up of the apartment and will try to get to bed early. The car taking us to the airport will be out front at 4 am for our 6:10 am flight to Paris. Alarms are set for 3 am. We don't anticipate the usual traffic at that hour.

This time we have four hours between flights in Paris. It took us three hours, with not a minute to waste, on our initial journey, just to get to the right part of the terminal, check in again and go through security twice. I hope we have time for a coffee and croissant between flights this time. 

I will write a final post after getting myself sorted out back in Ottawa. I welcome any comments you have on any of my posts.

The Wandering Genealogist

Underground at last

Malta has quite a subterranean history. Between the Hypogeum, catacombs and WWII tunnels where the Maltese sheltered, there are many places to visit underground. 

We'd been to the Hypogeum which simply means an underground cemetery. Although only one place is called "The Hypogeum," we visited another one today. I'd never managed to time my visits to various tunnel locations to gain admission, so I finally got to see some of the underground tunnels that protected the population during the bombings.

Glenn had made the trip already, but John and I set out by bus to visit St Paul's catacombs in Rabat. It was a two-fer, or even a three-fer, depending on your interpretation. With Glenn's directions, we easily found the site beside St Paul's Church. Mass was in progress so we were unable to see the interior of the church itself.

We paid the admission fee and a bit extra for the essential audio guide. Our first stop was the chapel/cave where St Paul was apparently held after he survived a shipwreck and arrived unceremoniously in Malta. The cave now has three altars, and yet again, I wondered why so many altars in a small space. 

I didn't linger long in this place because shortly after we got there, a tour group with a guide providing narrative in a language we didn't understand, arrived to fill it up. We criss-crossed with that group, or parts of it, in other parts of our underground visit.

The beginning of the underground experience

Fortunately, this warren of caves was well-marked so we didn't need to drop breadcrumbs to find our way out. Had it not been, we'd probably still be acting like a couple of rats in a maze looking for the exit.

The stairs in the photo above were the best we found. How nice to have handrails. Further into the catacombs, they became as essential as the stairs.

In the WWII tunnels we saw the individual rooms, dug out by or for families to have some privacy. I never did ask how long they stayed underground. There was no evidence of "sanitary facilities" so that was left to our imaginations. If you should visit, please ask and let me know later. 

Most of the personal spaces were simply dug out of the limestone and were maybe 8 by 10 feet on average. Some families must have thought that their stay would be a long one and they painted the walls, and some even tiled the floors. I hope the families were small because it would have been quite cosy (crowded). 

The tunnels with the family rooms. They might not have been as bright at the time they
were occupied, depending on the lighting available. On the upside, the lack of windows
meant they didn't argue over what sort of curtains to hang.

The "owners" of this room splurged on tile flooring. There is some evidence of
hinges, but no doors still in place, which would have provided more privacy.
To me, that would have been like living in a closet. Not for the claustrophobic.

A benefit at the time was that the catacombs already existed so they had a headstart on these bomb shelters. We didn't see any skulls or other bones in the maze of interconnected spaces of the catacombs.

The photo doesn't do a good job of showing the depth and the maze-like nature
of this underground cemetery. We didn't plumb the depths completely. Some of the
stairways were narrow, uneven and well-worn.

John decided to test the comfort of a final resting place. He declined to stay.

After rising from the depths, we spent a little while in the Museum which was all above ground. There were lots of religious artifacts, some very depressing paintings, and some recent abstract-ish paintings which were for sale. You may not be surprised to learn that we didn't purchase any. 

A pair of 17th century "ruby slippers" which I'm sure Dorothy would have rejected for use in Oz.

These had belonged to the Inquisitor in Malta between 1634 and 1639. Later they were donated by Pope

Alexander, to St Paul's Grotto in Malta.

The sedan chair for the sole personal use of the bishop. I didn't take a photo of the sign giving the name of the bishop, and I forget the narrative explanation from the audio-guide. My apologies. Neither did I photograph the two long decorative poles that were used to carry the chair.

And then we emerged into the light of the outdoors and decided to wander a little with a casual eye for somewhere to stop for a coffee. We happened upon an outdoor street market selling pretty much anything in the line of clothes and shoes. I think there were a couple of fruit and vegetable stands. It wasn't yet noon and they seemed to be packing up. Again, we didn't support the local economy.

A bit more wandering and a sign outside a restaurant caught my eye. 'Secret Garden out back' or something like that. My favourite childhood book was The Secret Garden, so I had to check it out. It was lovely. By this time the sun had come out and it was pleasantly warm and a bit humid. I could feel my hair rising to a state of frizziness. Here is what we found:

The after-church crowd was inside the restaurant, finishing up their breakfast, so the secret garden was not crowded. We chose a round table where we could enjoy the padded seat and view of the entire space.

And at 12 noon, the restaurant was able to take orders for lunch. We'd ordered drinks shortly after sitting down, but had to wait until 12 to order the meal. And this is what we had.

Rabbit Ravioli in tomato sauce. It was very tasty, but the only taste we could identify was the tomato sauce. For all I know they'd used finely ground chicken, or pork, or beef, or horse but probably rabbit. All of those meats are available in most restaurants.
We stick to the familiar and leave the horses alone.

On our way to find the bus stop for our return to Qawra via Bugibba, we finally found a Maltese Falcon, or rather the ingredients required to make one. 

And that is the sole reference we found to a Maltese Falcon in the entire country.

And for the good news – tomorrow St John's Co-Cathedral in Valletta is open for visiting and we plan to make an early start and hopefully avoid long line-ups. We weren't sure we'd be able to visit because of the closure due to the death of the bishop. He very kindly had his funeral on Saturday and we thank him, posthumously. That will be our last stop before packing up for our return home. Our flight is at six am, so our driver will collect us at 4. Maybe we'll see a nice sunrise, or maybe I won't even notice.

Mellieha in the sunshine

We've all ticked most of the places we wanted to see off our list, and after a couple of weeks, our pace has slowed down somewhat. My feet keep me slowed down more than somewhat, but I've found a pair of stretchy sandals that allow me to escape much of the grief. The fact that the sandals are stretchy means that if I slip on uneven pavement (it's everywhere), the shoes just kind of wander in the direction of their choice and test my balance. Luckily there are walls everywhere to grab onto when needed. 

Speaking of walls, the terraced hillsides are criss-crossed with dry stone walls, usually about three to four feet high. Because it's so hilly, the areas used for agriculture are mostly terraced. Here and there you find valleys which, in my experience, would usually have a river flowing at the bottom. Nope, not in Malta. There are no rivers. Right now the hillsides are green and almost lush. In a couple of months, they'll be brown in the hot, dry summer season. Ten percent of the agricultural land is used for vineyards. 

There are small plots with grape vines scattered among other fields, although there are also areas with more extensive space given to the vines. I wonder if individual farmers sell the grapes to the vineyards or if they make their own wine for personal use. 

Today I chose to take my new stretchy sandals on an outing to Mellieha. I'd passed through there en route to Cirkewwa where we got the ferry to Gozo. The scenery en route was lovely, and I wanted a closer look at part of the city. The bus ride was a little more exciting than I'd counted on. The driver must have been practising for the Indy 500, driving a bus loaded with passengers for a bit of a challenge. We had more than one close encounter of the accident kind. But, they were close encounters and not actual accidents. How? I don't know. I'm sure there are road accidents here, but fortunately, I have not seen any, let alone been in one. There have been police cars and ambulances racing around though.

The buses are equipped with a rolling screen that tells you the next stop. Well, not always when you need them. I knew the name of the stop I wanted in Mellieha - Adenau. Fortunately, I'd used Google maps to not only look at the route but I'd checked the streetview and knew what the area looked like. None of the stops in Mellieha showed up on that rolling screen. BUT, I had prepared well and disembarked at the right place by keeping my eyes open. 

The distance between stops is not always short, nor are they always at the same altitude. If I had missed the stop I would have required climbing gear to return to my chosen spot. Well, maybe not ropes and pitons, but given that I was wearing those stretchy sandals, it would have been a challenge.

Safely off the bus, I walked towards the church and onto an area with incredible views over the valley, down to the largest beach in Malta, and over the stretch of sea to Comino and Gozo. And I could see the Red Tower. Remember that from last weekend? 

The graveyard next to the church in Mellieha
There is no cremation done in Malta so how do they fit so many graves into this small space?
And every grave has a photo of the "occupant" and often his/her family

View to the beach from the area of the Church.
Do you see the Red Tower?

Part of the road I would have had to walk if I'd missed my bus stop. This shows the downhill
part that is followed by a mini-mountain

I spent about an hour just wandering and taking lots of photos and eventually ended up back at the Church. It was open and I wandered in. It was quite beautiful and had at least a dozen altars. I'm really not sure why so many are/were needed. This year that church celebrates its centenery. It was in perfect condition and I think there might have been recent cleanings for the occasion. 

I've never seen an open confessional before

One view of the exterior of the church

And the inside

And the usual view from the front

Back outside I decided to take the staircase down (yay!) to see the WWII air raid tunnels. They are open from 9 - 3 according to the sign on the door. It was 2 pm. They were closed. Ugh. But I had a brief conversation with an Irishman who was also disappointed at the timing. 

If they had been open I would have been able to see the WWII air raid tunnels

And then it was time for a gelato. 

Although it was tasty, it was a mere shadow of the gelato available right across the street from our digs in Qawra. The "scoop" must have been a teaspoon and it was in a skinny little plain cone. A couple of licks and it was gone. Tasty, but gone. Here we get a large scoop in a sugar cone for the same price. 

Luck was with me as I only had to wait a few minutes for the bus back to Qawra. It was late, but so was I. This driver was not quite so determined to break land speed records. I managed to get a seat on this bus, but had I embarked two stops later I would have been standing. To date, I have not seen anyone give up their seat for any "person of a certain age range" within which I exist. If seated, the young occupant just doesn't seem inclined to make sure that older folks can enjoy a seated experience if the bus is crowded. 

We dined in this evening, eating up most of our remaining groceries. Tomorrow I may return to Rabat to visit the catacombs. The weather has been glorious, and always windy. Very windy. 

Nothing much happened today other than hanging around, picking up a couple of things at the local convenience store, and resting my sore feet.

We went for dinner at a nearby restaurant called Michele's, and met a group from Ottawa on the Travac Tour. Glenn even knew one couple. It's almost inevitable that someone in your group, in our case a trio, meets someone they know from home on every trip. Small world.

There's a glimmer of hope that we might get to visit St John's Co-Cathedral on Monday. The bishop's funeral is tomorrow and the Cathedral is supposed to reopen on Sunday. If we pack up and get organized on Sunday, then we might get into Valletta for that last visit. Fingers crossed.

Breezy day in Valletta

I got off to a lazy start and took a bus to Valletta at 10:30. The chaps had left at 8. Once again I marvelled at the traffic. Do people here really just drive around cutting off other drivers, and buses, for entertainment? Sometimes, it seems that's a national pastime. But I must commend their parallel parking skills, slipping into spaces barely longer than their vehicles. I've never noticed any driver having to make a correction when squeezing between two other cars. One and done!

The risks the drivers take in roundabouts and pulling out from parking spots or side streets is enough to raise the blood pressure. There have been many close calls that I've seen from the safety(???) of a bus. I suppose safety is a relative term, and in this case only because the bus is bigger, is there any feeling of security. But I digress.

On disembarking from the bus at the terminal in Valletta, I headed directly to the Malta Memorial to the War Dead. I was on a mission to find the name of a particular airman who lost his life in the Battle of Malta. By a stroke of fate, I walked directly to the panel on which his name was inscribed. The names are organized by year, by service (RAF, RCAF), by descending order of rank and then alphabetically. This is the memorial.

From the memorial it was a short walk to the city entrance and onto Republic Street. The original plan had been to visit St. John's Co-Cathedral. It's home to the original Caravaggio painting of the beheading of John the Baptist, but that is only one of its attractions. Sadly, because the Archbishop had not been informed of our plans, he died at an inopportune time, and the cathedral was closed in his honour. It will not reopen during our visit. We'd been about to visit shortly after our arrival in Valletta during our first week, but seeing long lineups, decided to postpone the visit. Bad decision. We have to resort to googling or using the website to see the interior.  

https://www.stjohnscocathedral.com/

Not to be deterred I carried on to the Grand Masters' Palace and it did not disappoint. The interior courtyard was lovely, but the many stairs were somewhat less lovely. It's an immense structure and is currently used for special events, mostly involving the reception of monarchs and heads of state. In this place was displayed the George Cross and the letter from King George VI, to the people of Malta for their heroism in WWII. Malta was the most bombed country during the war and much of Valletta lay in ruins. The citizens had sheltered in the many underground passages which are found under the city.

When it comes to the George cross, there is no mention that it is a duplicate and the same can be said of the letter beside it. But, at the same time, at the War Museum, they have what is the original. I have not been able to figure this out. There would be no shame in saying it is a copy of the one at the museum but nowhere could I find any information about that. If you are so inclined and eager to research something of this high importance, please advise me of what you find.

So is this the original or a copy?

One of the places I really wanted to visit was The Malta Experience. There is a great deal of fuss made about this presentation and I was hoping to learn more in terms of geography and places to visit. Learn I did - the history of Malta. Not what I'd expected. Talk about the target of attack, this place has an invisible "hit me" target, although I can't find an actual painted target. Supposedly this was a 5D experience. It was 2D. But the theatre was large and at each place was a headset and controls. You could listen in any one of about 20 languages. I didn't count. Not surprisingly, I chose English. The Maltese must be the most resilient race in the world. Interesting but not a mind-blowing experience.

What followed, however, was the tour of the hospital established by the Knights. I enjoyed it and our excellent guide. It's on two levels, the upper of which, was for the rich and the lower for the poor. The "room" is 155 metres long, 10 metres wide and 11.5 metres high. This space was being prepared for a conference and the displays hid most of the features, other than the immense size. Each patient had not only his own bed, but his own washroom, and a curtain surrounded each bed for privacy. The colour of the curtain denoted what the person was suffering from. A glance at the scene told you the nature of the various 'ailments du jour.'

The poor would be treated on this level

Downstairs, in the poor section, between the niches housing the toilets, was a very large bed for four patients. As above, they usually used only one side of the room, but had the other side in case it was needed for more patients. Both of these wards treated only men. Women would seek help at convents. If they were very ill a doctor would be called. The nuns learned to almost be doctors by their hands-on experience. 

The hospital is now an event space and they were preparing for a conference when we were there. The setup in the poor section still allowed you to get an idea of the structure and setup. The upper level was full of display areas for merchants? companies? candy?

After having lunch at the cafe, I decided to walk back towards the main city gate via Merchant Street. It is parallel to the main Republic Street. What I had not bargained for was that this street, while home to many restaurants, is even steeper than the one parallel to it. How is this possible? 

Merchant Street - I started at the bottom

By this point, my painful feet were almost screaming, but I wandered to the Upper Barraka Gardens to enjoy a fabulous view over the Grand Harbour to the Three Cities. You can see the Gun Battery where a noon gun is fired daily.

Not a bad view 

I met with John and Glenn at the Triton fountain at 4 pm, and we went in search of our bus to Bugibba. The route ends at the bus terminal up the hill from our base. Luckily, returning 'home' is all downhill. Yay. We communicate by email when not all in the same place.

We caught the #48 bus, which takes a somewhat different route than the #45 which had been our transportation into Valletta. Was this designed to be snarled in the worst traffic? It took us 90 minutes to get back but had taken just under an hour to get to Valletta. There were lots of near-misses, in my opinion, but nobody on the insanely crowded bus seemed to notice. Except for the three of us and we were lucky enough to find seats. I saw no examples of courtesy to any standees who should have been the occupants of the courtesy seating.

The evening was spent icing my feet and dining in on whatever could be thrown together. I had a prepared meal that included couscous and some kind of vegetarian meatballs. The packaging was in Maltese. I managed to pick out the olives. Not being able to read the label (sorry for the rhyme) meant that I had bought food containing my least favoured (most hated) ingredient.

A slow day today - Friday. We have two sets of keys for three people who don't always travel together. I'm currently trapped in the condo as both sets have gone off in other directions. Without a key I can't use the elevator, but there are stairs. There is no way other than by mobile phone, to contact the others if you are out and they are in. There is no buzzer to open the outer door from within. But, I'm catching up with this post and apologize that it wasn't on time. I hope to take a bus to Mellieha just to have lunch. Why not?