A somewhat more eventful day

Will a 12-hour sleep banish jet lag? You betcha. I was ready to roll at 10 am, having gone to bed at 10 pm. Eight hours should suffice tonight.

I agree it was a late start but a phone call from Mary Egan got things underway. Would I like to play golf tomorrow at Coollattin? Of course. And a tee time of 10 am would suit me just fine. I needed to call Eilish to set things up. 

My phone works on Whatsapp but the golf course doesn't use the app, so a personal visit was in order. I ended up confirming my appearance tomorrow, booking a buggy in case my feet don't enjoy the ups and downs of what they consider a flattish course. Well, except for the hilly parts, I guess it's flattish. The Par 3 in the walled garden is flat. Terrifying but flat. There's a small raised green that is more than adequately bunkered. It's certainly reachable from the tee but did I mention it's small? Photos tomorrow.

I have borrowed clubs, but no balls, tees, green repair tool, ball marker or hat. That has been remedied. Surely the five "previously enjoyed" balls will be enough. The weather forecast isn't what I'd call perfect. But we won't have to worry about the sun in our eyes. We might have to enjoy a few showers for about an hour. I'll bring along my raincoat, which isn't exactly typical rain gear. And I don't have waterproof shoes with me, nor did I bring a second pair. 

Eilish told me that I'd be playing with really nice people? As far as my experience goes in Ireland, everyone is lovely. And then I found out it's actually some sort of competition. Yikes. I will never have used these clubs, have a regular (slippery?) glove to use, and will have zero practice before teeing off. Ah well, it will be lots of fun anyway. I'm betting I can find a pint of Guinness when we're done

It could happen that my shoes will become acquainted with the hair dryer for a while later in the day tomorrow. Stay tuned. The only other footwear I have with me is a pair of sandals and they are not suitable for wandering away from my cottage.

Then there was a short trip to visit Bob's tree at Coolruss. It's probably at its peak of redness as you can see. I stop by to pay my respects at that tree on every visit. Planted in 2009, it shelters some of my Dad's ashes.

I'm not one for posting pictures of my meals, but here is a photo of my substantial late lunch. Seafood chowder with brown bread. Very filling and I could have waited until about 7 to have dinner, but I didn't get that chance.

Sorry this is not horizontal, can't change it here

I headed to Carnew to visit Mary, my oldest cousin who is closing in on 100. She still lives more or less independently. I arrived about 3:30. We chatted for a while and then I thought she was preparing something like tea and biscuits. Oh no - this is the wrong Mary for a wee morsel. She served a dinner of chicken, potatoes, carrots and beans (think baked beans) at 5. I protested that I was still digesting my lunch, but her selective hearing kicked in. Protests fall on deaf ears anyway. Eating dinner was not an option, it was an obligation. The main course was accompanied by a wee tot of Port and followed by endless offerings of apple tart and tea brack. 

Just as we started to eat, some friends dropped in to visit Mary and they stayed and chatted and helped to consume several rounds of the apple tart they had brought, along with the bread which Mary had on hand. While Mary was in the kitchen, we managed to smuggle 4 slices of the tea brack into my purse so she'd think we consumed it.

I asked Mary what time I could possibly visit and not get fed. Of course I knew the answer. No time. She will always have food for company and you simply can't refuse. And she absolutely refuses any help at all. You'd have to tackle her just to carry a plate to the kitchen, and tackling is not appropriate behaviour towards one's elders.

A friendly genealogy guru was expected to visit me around 7, so I had to make my excuses and leave by 6:45, promising to visit again. Next time I'll fast before showing up.

Genealogy alert:

John O came over as planned and he had some suggestions for tracking certain of my ancestors, but eventually we agreed that the Walsh family in question might never be identified positively in Ireland. However, he showed me ways to explore some of the resources I already knew about and we made progress on the Kehoe line. I think I've found them in Clonegall. They have living relatives in the same area. I've been in touch with them before but we couldn't decide on a connection. It's a pretty sure thing now.

It's late now and I have to be up and about for golf, so I shall bid you adieu for today.

A"Mews"ing myself today

Today's journey was to Aldi in my Audi - and that killed about an hour. I made it without having a coffee when I woke up - possibly the first time I've gotten behind the wheel while suffering caffeine withdrawal. 

Actually, if I'd had a coffee for each awakening during the early hours, I would have been hyper-caffeinated. Unlike other visits, I did not fall asleep early, despite being awfully sleepy, nor did I sleep long. I did manage to tack on a couple of hours after being awake from 4 to 7:30. So, after 9, I finally decided to get up and start the day.

Sometime after the third awakening around 6 am, having opened the skylight window a bit, I captured this beautiful sunrise through the opening. The magnificent colours didn't last long so for once my timing during a "golden hour" was spot on.

A beautiful view to start my day for about the third time, then I went back to bed

There wasn't much photo-worthy at Aldi, as I'm not much interested in posting pictures of food. I stuck to the task of buying essentials, and even without a list, I remembered milk for coffee, and enough food for the next four days. You gotta love prepared soups, salads and dinners. AND ALDI'S SIGNATURE MOSER ROTH CHOCOLATE! Yessssssss - they had my favourites. The price has gone up considerably, as has the exchange on the Euro, but sometimes you just have to buy something that's been whispering your name. Hopefully, the price will keep my consumption somewhat controlled. 

The plan had been to play golf with Mary Egan this afternoon, however, I was still so sleepy after the brief sortie, that I begged off and hope we can manage a game another day. Instead, I had a nap. 

After that bit of shut-eye, I did a bit of online research to prepare for meeting with some genealogy contacts, in between nodding off again. Determined to stay awake, a walk outside in the rather fresh air, I wandered around Minmore. Each new season brings new views and new attractions within 100 yards of my current digs. What would I find today? 

It was cool and a bit overcast but dry!!! And there were mushrooms galore of many sizes and shapes. I got quite excited about finding one that seemed to have polka dots. Closer inspection showed that bits of the top "skin" had been removed in a remarkably organized pattern.  I do remind you that my brain was still on "wake up you fool" mode and possibly I wasn't seeing clearly.

But there were a few other gems - like the last rose of summer

And a spot of FUNghi

And then there was this - looking and feeling like a fallen pinecone tree, hiding among the vines. The undergrowth was so dense I couldn't decide if a couple of branches had been cut and dropped there, or if it had really taken root. Do you know what it is? All will be revealed in a later post. But do go ahead and busy yourself with research if you like. Or show off with a comment if you already know.

And this being Ireland - the compulsory photo of sheep, as seen through a holly bush

At one point I glanced at the ground and saw something that looked familiar. It's a shame I don't have an open fire on which to roast my two chestnuts. Then again, it would hardly be worth the effort for two.

Genealogy alert: (read as an insomnia cure)

I made a few possible discoveries online today, using sources I dig into all the time, but just finding the right name in the right timeframe does not mean you have the right people. As it happens, none of my ancestors had unusual names.  In fact, they all seem to have had the most common surnames in their areas of origin. And they all liked using the same restricted list of first names. Surely there's a Thaddeus or a Persephone or an Augustus back there somewhere, along with every Mary, Edward, James, George, Arthur, Eliza and Margaret, just waiting for me to discover them. 

My fingers are crossed that when I meet my Athy connection, he might be able to confirm the information with more certainty. This time, my Whelan ancestors were the subjects du jour. The others just have to wait their turn.

Blame the fatigue for the short post, and thank the familiar roads for the successful shopping trip. The excitement should ramp up in the coming days. One meeting is planned for Sunday to see if we can sort out a Byrne connection, and dates have yet to be added to the calendar for a couple of other lines in Co. Carlow - McDonald and Walsh for the most part. Then there are the .... OK, I'll keep you in suspense and save Kilkenny for another day.

Sadly, I've eaten my allotment of chocolate for today, so I'll just go to bed – after a bit of yoga to promote a good sleep.

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.