January 11th starts with a mild headache caused I feel from the carafe of white wine from the previous night, but must not let this hold me back, after all seeing myself naked in the bathroom mirror has been an absolute eye opener in more ways than one, so it’s off down to the hotel gym at 7.30 am, five minutes on the stepper machine will do as a starter, twenty five arm curls with medium size weights soon follows, it’s a start, I even find the will power to take a very quick dip in the indoor pool.
Breakfast is ok real sausages not those tined chipolatas you get at most foreign hotels, plenty to eat so I do fuel for the day, sugar puffs, egg, sausage, fried tomato, baked beans followed by a slice of toast, orange juice and a coffee.
As I walk through the reception area to leave the hotel, I’m confronted by the sight of at least one hundred young students filling in their detail cards, a requirement of staying at the “Paradise Bay” Christ I’m no longer the youngest resident, it crosses my mind that maybe the government have shipped them in to bring down the average age of the hotel that must have been around a hundred and six.
I venture out into the morning sunlight, stiff breeze but very pleasant compared with what I’ve left behind in the UK, I make my way down to the bus stop when another holiday maker from the hotel informs me it would be better to walk on down to the Gozo ferry landing area so I walk along with him for the few minutes it takes, he is staying for two months, and is in his second week, I should take the number 85 bus if I wish to go to Valletta, so I hang around in the very bracing wind hoping the bus will soon turn up, after standing around for some fifteen minutes looking at a number 45 that has been there longer than me, I ask the driver if he knows what time the Valletta bus is due? This bus goes to Valletta he informs me, it was just about to go, thank god I asked.
I climb aboard my first Maltese bus affectionately known as the bone shaker it’s I pay to go all the way to the capital, turns out the driver requires 58 cents off me, that’s about sixty pence, we set off and I soon find out why their known as bone shakers, I look around the bus taking it all in, I feel I’m being surreptitiously converted all round me are religious slogans, Love is God is Love, Holy is God is Holy, Merciful is God is Merciful, then there is a picture of Jesus with Mary with the words In God we trust, there is also a picture of the late Pope Paul, am I on a travelling church, bus or shrine? I’m also informed I must not smoke, drink, eat or take drugs!
The bus is filling up fast as it winds it’s way from town to town, we appear to be continuously ascending soon oxygen masks will pop down from above, why didn’t the driver warn us as they do on aircraft?
There are no longer any spare seats it’s standing room only, a young girl of African origins gets on the bus, and she’s pregnant, I find myself giving up my seat, for how long I have no idea, I walk towards the rear of the bus, to make room for others, it’s then my eye’s light up, Malta has an underground rail service, I’ll be using that, I read on, for further information it tells me to contact the following address, hold on the address is in London England, and this is an old London bus, they haven’t even bothered to take the notice down ( it turns out not only don’t they have an underground, there is no railway service of any sort) I later manage to find another seat.
An hour has passed and we arrive in Valletta I step from the bus thinking what an amazing bargain that was an hours journey for sixty pence, the terminus is a cacophony of noise and smells, bus horns hooting all over the place, the bus’s are of all different shapes and ages, some look fairly modern in comparison to others, by modern I would think about the 1970’s the older one’s may well have transported my great grandparents, I do not exaggerate, I find myself taking picture after picture of these diesel belching beasts, my Aunt and Uncle had told me about these buses but seeing is believing.
Now the guy who had told me back at the Gozo ferry terminus what bus to catch had also told me about the best view in the city, I have to walk through the arch and turn right I will see a bombed building from world war two, plus a great view of the harbour, this all sounded good to me, but where is the arch?
Walking and looking around no arch is apparent to me I see a large fountain gushing forth it’s jets of water, a statue celebrating Malta’s independence in 1964, then I see two small arches’ side by side, well no wonder I did not see them first thing, they are dwarfed by the other architecture surrounding them.
I walk though the arches’ into a paved area greenery and statutes with benches and place to sit and unwind in a busy city, no bombed building as yet or harbour, it soon become obvious to me I’m not where I was told to be.
Not long and I’m wandering down narrow streets taking in the sights, sounds and smells you can see the different influences in the buildings’ the balconies all colours and shapes, different textured doors wonderful variety of colours as with the balconies, I turn a corner cross the road and get my first view of the harbour, after the cold and snow of Britain this is a real boost to my wellbeing, the sea reflects the blue of the sky overhead only punctuated by white wispy clouds, ships and boats of all shapes and sizes some pleasure others cargo, as I look across the harbour there are building galore every so often you spot a church, easy to pick out as most appear to have red domes, I seem to be in the dock area of the city overhead cranes massive cargo ships from around the world, soon I leave this area behind me, it’s now parks, cafes and restaurants all around the city is in cased in a fortified wall around the whole length of the harbour I have so far walked, time has just flown by, I’m like a kid in a toy shop, not sure what to touch or look at next, this is only my first full day of twenty four, so must pace myself.
Time to leave the harbour area and start the arduous climb back to the centre of the city, the streets are arrow straight but steep as Everest, I can feel the back of my calf’s starting to pull, and think what a great idea it was to do that ten minute work out earlier in the day!
It begins to cross my mind I have no idea in what part of the city I am, a map would be a good idea at this point me thinks, so I start actively looking for a shop to purchase one, I come to the end of the street and stumble upon a square with a cluster of inviting shops, a map is bought includes bus routes a bargain, I walk about twenty metres away from the shop, and notice a collection of buses, I’m back at the terminus! And what’s more I’m under an arch, as I look behind me to the left I see a bombed out building, the guy was right, all the time like a good pantomime villain it was behind me when I first alighted from the bus.
Too early to return to the hotel, so off to snap more images and hunt out a bite to eat, nothing too much a sandwich will do must get this weight down, I spot the “Capri Bar” they do take away, so it’s an egg and salad roll plus the cherry juice I brought with me.
After consuming my banquet it’s off to find my homeward bus amongst the plethora of these diesel belching beasts assembled for my delight.
An hour later and I’m back at the hotel, quick shower then more wine and a couple of hours on the laptop before dinner, cauliflower soup, beef goulash with rice (will not be having this again) and a very nice lime cheesecake and a dish of lime jelly.
The evenings entertainment consists of a guy playing guitar and singing such songs as the streets of London and old Ralph McTell favourite of mine, sounds strange sung with a Maltese tilt, but I’m more concerned with trying to connect my laptop to WIFI with zero success, after an hour of failure it’s off to bed with a Baileys nightcap.
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