Sunday 17 January 2010

Sunday the 17th Wake early to find sunlight. Decide to forgo the gym well it’s Sunday I tell myself as if the weekends have any significances when your on holiday, go down to breakfast the Maltese are down in force there is a young local girl in full karate outfit, now there are well over three hundred places in a large restaurant it never occurred to me I would have to fight for my food!
I’m out and on a bus by 8.45am it’s a promising day and I for one am not going to waste it, today I shall visit Rabat and Mdina the weather is far better than when I abandoned my visit due to a downpour a few days ago.

Other people must have had the same idea for an early start because the bus is rapidly filling up at each stop, this is very mountainous Island remind me very much of Madeira land of my Father, as we wind our way up a steep incline I’m struck my the fact there is a large group of guy’s on mountain bikes also making there way up, I think I must try that if I ever get fit again.
As you may have noticed I am a big fan of Maltese bus travel, all life is here aboard the bus dear friends, a woman gets on and recognises two other people her face lights up with joy, she shakes hands with the couple a tad later I look in her direction again, she is in full flow I can not hear her but she is so animated like a tick tack man at a race course, what tales she is spinning I wonder.

I’m listening to my Mp3 again and the Russian National Anthem is playing I daftly think good job no one else can hear this being played as half the people on the bus are Germans, I then notice a guy sniffing at the air with an intense look on his face, what can he smell I wonder, before long he has me doing it, and what do I smell ? Nothing.

Looking out the bus window I see a large black cloud over head, here we go again I think, no sooner do I think it than rain drops hit the window, I try to console myself by remembering that this time last Sunday I was not long into my flight out of snow bound Britain from Gatwick, everywhere else I look is blue sky, trust me to attract the cloud.

Then disaster strikes the pen I’m using to makes notes runs out of ink, now I have to rely on my memory till I can find somewhere to buy another.

I get off at Mosta to wait for my connection to Rabat, the rain has stopped, the church bells are ringing all is well in my world, soon I’m on my way to Rabat as we wind our way towards Mdina we pass a large open area and there’s a car boot sale taking place must be a world wide phenomena, a young guy gets on to the bus and starts checking everyone’s tickets this had happened a couple of time on other days, they just seem to appear from nowhere.

I arrive, this is not a large place but seems unusually busy for ten o’clock in the morning, there are horses and people everywhere, it reminds me of when the Irish have a meeting to race horses down the street.
I start taking photographs, then notice a horse drawn cart that has a wooden crate on the back with a goat in it, I run up the street trying in vain to catch up to take a snap, I return to the square a tad miffed and panting, little do I know what awaits me, I begin to notice people carrying cats others with dogs, at this point I hear a band playing I walk in the direction of the music to find a large religious procession coming up the main street, in the front is a man in full white smock carrying a large flag, followed by another four men carrying crosses and other religious paraphernalia, behind them was a sight to behold there were eight guys four in the front and four at the rear carrying on their shoulders a giant statue of Christ, the four at the front would have done justice to any Rugby scrum, they must have been bouncers in their spare time, while the four at the rear were by comparison wimps, behind all this came the band of at least fifty odd, another four men walk at the side of the statue holding poles with a “u” shape fitting on the end, soon it became apparent why, after a while I counted every one hundred and forty very small steps, the procession came to a halt, the four guys with the poles quickly stuck them under the statue for support and the bearers took a break, I follow this for some time, and why not the weather is now beautiful, I get well ahead of the procession, noticing a woman who looks Maltese to me, I ask her what the significance of all this is, just as I was beginning to suspect she tells me it is a religious festival that takes place once a year to bless the animals, her husband is in the procession she tells me and just then he passes by, it was started in the year 1556 by the Knights of St. John who brought their cattle up to Rabat to be blessed.

How true is the saying every cloud has a silver lining, had it not rained those few days ago, I would not be here now, this is magical, the lady informs me that the blessing will take place in the church in about twenty minutes, I watch as the procession makes it’s way towards the church, then decide to move to the church location, when I get there I find a large crowd gathered outside the church with a collection of animals and reptiles to make your eyes boggle, budgerigars in cages, well of course, monkeys, pigs, terrapins, rabbits, tortoise, horses, donkeys, cats, ferrets, dogs, fish in bowls, goats those are just the ones I saw.

Eventually the procession reached the church to great applause from the crowd, there were film crews milling around this was obviously an important day in the local calendar, I feel truly privileged to have witness this wonderful spectacle.

Now was a good time to move on to Mdina, I had no idea how far from Rabat it was, but I was prepared for the walk, I see a sign marking out the direction, but am not sure exactly were to go, I come upon a Maltese family walking in this warm Sunshine and ask them if they speak English? Of course, do you know the way to Mdina? Yes there it is, they point behind me, all that separates Rabat from Mdina is a moat, apparently when the Island was under Arab rule they wanted to distinguish the difference between the majestic Mdina that already had a high wall all the way round it but that was not enough so a moat was dug.

I enter as all have done for over five hundred years through the large stone gate way, Mdina is called the silent city, the cool city temperature wise would also apply, the reason for both being that it was designed to have very narrow streets, one because it was a defensive town built on probably the highest point in Malta
It would and was very hard to attack, the streets are narrow not really suitable for vehicles’ hence very little noise from any form of traffic even in bygone days, and being so narrow sunlight does not beat down on the streets as the buildings on each side cast shadows, they take the silent city serious even to this day, I notice a sign telling horse drawn taxi’s they must have rubber fitted to their wheels and also to the hooves of the horses, delightful

Now ever since I arrived in Rabat I have kept an eye open to purchase a new pen, once in side Mdina there are shops that could well sell pens, the first one I enter does not it’s a glass shop displaying all sorts of ornate glass ware, some beautiful stuff, the second shop has pens, I purchase a nice chunky one, I have gone a few yards and decide to write down a few things I noted at the festival, the pen will not write, I turn to the hard cover press down hard and try to scribble it into action, no luck, so back to the shop, the young lady bring three pens that are the same, none of them work, I then join the lady and another woman assistant where the pens are situated, they go through one pen after another none of them work, is this a sign I should stop writing?, eight pens tried without success, they laugh I laugh, the ninth pens works it’s a miracle.

unfortunately I chose a chunky pen, I now have one with a little Bunny Rabbit on top with pink ears!

Mdina is easy on the eye and not too large a place that you could not see most of in in just a few hours, what is outstanding is the view below it is a joy on your senses, you can understand while it was able to withstand any invasion, it really feels as if you are closer to the heavens than you have a right to be, in the distance I can make out the Dome at Mosta, the view all round is spellbinding.

My camera is working overtime, there is so much to capture for future viewing, it occurs to me how much better our photographs would be without bloody cars in them, they are an eyesore.

Soon I return to Rabat, notice there one of those train’s that run round the town on wheels think about doing the tour then notice I can get it reduced as a duffer so will come back another day when I have proof that I really am a dinosaur, a Euro is a Euro, I wander down to that cemetery I’d seen some days before in the rain wishing to look into those faces again to see if I can make a connection, guess what it’s closed on a Sunday, you can’t visit your loved ones on the most religious day of the week, even pagan Britain let you do that.

Time to leave Rabat I go down to the terminus to wait for my bus, there are a couple of buses at the terminus but not mine as yet, one bus has a few passengers aboard but no driver, then the young ticket checker appears gets on to the bus then gets off shouts across the road (in Maltese) in the direction of a bar called the Windsor Castle, out come a much older man, the driver, he quickly makes his way to the bus, that told him I think.

Back at the terminus in Bugibba I take a stroll down to St. Paul’s Bay, this is where the saint and apostle was ship wrecked on his way to Rome, stayed for about five months and helped to spread Christianity on the Island, I’m not overly impressed, nice enough clean and tidy reminds me of a British holiday resort from the 1950’s but nothing really eye-catching, I fancy a bite to eat manage to find a café that does take away pies, what’s on offer I ask, the girl starts to go through a list of item, she mentions tuna and spinach, I stop her there, that will do, remembering the one I had in Valetta the previous day, she micro waves it for me, two Euros twenty please, I’m at the sea side no wonder I have to pay one Euro twenty cents more, and it is not in the same league as yesterdays, where’s the Capri café when I need it, I sit on a bench look out to sea eat my pie well at least it’s piping hot, quick snort of juice from the flask, then back to the terminus.

As I get on the bus there are two other people on there from my hotel, Mike and Sylvia, we start talking what amazes us is the fact no one else is on the bus not even the driver, yet all his taking for the day so far are there in a tray, how trusting can you be, if you applied the same scenario in the UK not only would the money be gone, so would the bus! M&S tell me about their bingo exploits, they had told me a few days earlier they have never played until coming on this holiday, they won the first time they played, now they tell me they have won a hundred and sixty Euros plus a bottle of wine, for an outlay of about thirty Euros, I ask them if there going to turn professional and can I be their agent.

Back at the hotel a few drinks then it’s time for dinner, I plump for the turbot, tasty, in the lounge the entertainment starts, most of the Maltese are packed and leaving the hotel, but a large group remain and are joining in with the dancing and singing with glee, then a young girl from the group no more than very early teens but dressed like fem fatal gets up with the microphone and starts singing a Whitney Houston type number, not a bad little singer but the body movements seem out of place for one so young, she goes on to sing a further two songs, that’s enough for me, I head for my room send a few emails and wait for the sand man to take me.