Land and sea

The entire recorded history of Malta could be presented in a series of pictures of buildings, caves and seascapes. The caves featured in an earlier post, so only the buildings and seascapes remain. Many of the buildings are churches and this needs no explanation beyond dates, which go back to somewhere around 1640 and the early days after the island became home to the Knights of St John. For someone who has never been to Rome, Malta seems like an excellent second choice.

Fabulous baroque palaces serve as a reminder of how the aristocracy lived - and still live in some cases - outside the church compounds.


The art of dry stone wall construction is visible everywhere outside the city centres, and Roman aqueducts still stand in various cities leading into the capital.


New building is intensive and designed to service a growing tourist industry. Offshore, the island's natural harbours service all kinds of seaborne transportation.
This all too brief stopover in the central Mediterranean proved to be surprisingly informative and thoroughly enjoyable on many levels. Not least of which were the time to reacquaint with aging parents in a place they lived as newly weds, and a prompt to explore history older than anything previously encountered. The long days of uninterrupted sunshine were a bonus.

A troubled past

The story of Malta in WWII brings me perhaps closer to that awful event than I have ever been. Only 20 minutes away by Sicilian bomber bases and of high strategic importance to the Brits and their allies, the island was blitzed and almost had to give up under siege in the early 1940s.

Massive casualty lists and written reminders of how little food and fuel got through the blockade serve as sickening reminders of yet another arena where the war could easily have gone the other way. But it didn’t – and that is partly and quite amazingly due to three tiny planes, Faith, Hope and Charity that somehow managed to defend the island against vastly superior numbers. The Maltese are justifiably proud of their resilience record.


Of course, WWII was not the first occasion for major defense efforts by these tiny, historic islands. The legacy of the Knights of St John battling ‘marauding Turks' after their arrival in the 16th century is visible everywhere in the enduring fortifications and fabulous baroque churches and palaces. Those wars are old and remote enough to have assumed a cloak of historical romance - a richly embroidered one at that.



Restoration of the bombs, the wrecked planes and other remnants for the island’s many tourist attractions is a labour of love for those who remember and those who can. There is at least a lifetime worth of work in that, and many more in the effort to make sure this kind of awful destruction of fellow human civilization and its fabulous artifacts doesn’t happen again. Its amazing so much of the history survived.

Hal Far

This morning I got up and went for a walk. It was relatively cool at 7am. Yesterday, walking was at the pace of the 80 year olds, so I got up a good pace and kept on walking. I reached the industrial town of Hal Far up the hill behind Birzebbugia in less than an hour, with no camera, water bottle or cash. It had not been my intention to walk so far.

I had been intending to visit the area though, as this was where the 80 years olds (my mother and father) were stationed after WWII, she as an aircraft mechanic in the WRNS and he as a trainee fighter pilot on the Fleet Air Arm. Things have changed now, and nothing, they say, is recognizable.

From the buses full of North African refugees coming out from Valetta, we already found out that ex military accommodation has been repurposed as a refugee reception centre. Without wishing to go and gawp, I was curious to see how these exiles live in a country that reputedly doesn’t like foreigners.

The area is clearly industrial rather than residential. At first I didn’t realize what I was looking at as I approached what looked like a pipe store in an open field.

I mistook the regular row of peaks for piles of something like metal or shale. In fact, it is the skyline of a tent city where much of the well-dressed, ordinary looking African population lives. A row of portable cabins that appear to be made from containers and some relatively luxurious stone accommodation blocks add capacity to this unusual, small to average size village.
An immigration reception centre completes the picture. All I have to go on are impressions, as no information is readily available about the processing of these people, who are presumably asylum seekers. A few stories are told about boat people picked up in leaky tubs by the Italian Navy and landed in Malta. Desperate moves from desperate places. I watched a man on a bus watching a little girl with her mother, and wondered; did he have a daughter, a wife or a sister? Where might they be now?

Who are these people? How do they feel, living in tents and baking in huts in an unfamiliar land? Closer inspection of my pictures shows a few mod cons like satellite dishes around the site. I only hope there is more to home comfort that that can beam in.

Temples, bones and burial chambers

The age of things found in Malta is mind-boggling. As if the story of the Knights of St John, their fabulous baroque churches and impenetrable fortifications is not interesting enough, temples, bones and burial chambers date from an era when numbers are made hazy by sheer magnitude.

A day’s outing in the mid-western towns of Paola and Tarxien (pr. tarsheen) first took in relatively recent remains from the temple period - circa 2500BC. Exquisitely cut and carved stone structures are adorned with a prize example of the intriguing, apparently female statues found at various sites. The proportions are suggestive of a sumo wrestler. The craft work is incredible for a pre-metal tool age. The purpose remains a mystery. The temple was discovered during excavations, buried beneath a bronze age burial ground.

I was able to secure places on a much coveted, midday special tour of the Hal Saflieni Hypogeum. If initial explanations had been accepted, I would have believed that this was really booked up until two weeks after our departure from the island. All the guide books warn that advance booking is necessary as only 12 people may enter at any one time. The small print says that a small number of tickets for a special (and more expensive) tour are sold at various locations a day prior. Persistence and gentle persuasion managed to secure two of these.

No photography is allowed inside – which is a pity because the scale and the sense of antiquity are hard to describe in words. These pictures from a brochure show what some of the chambers look like. Carved, not constructed, in sandstone, a complex of large and small interconnected caves occupy three levels extending about 40 feet below current ground level. The chambers were found filled with human bones from what appeared to be mass burials. Paintings remain on the roof of some and stone ornaments, including the famous sleeping lady were found inside. These chambers were first discovered by builders in 1902 digging cisterns to store rainwater underneath new houses. This is a common system on an island that gets very little rain over the long summer months. They kept quiet about the find so they could finish the project – why does it not surprise me to hear this? After they owned up, the government acquired the site, which was dug out over many years and now remains almost invisible, surrounded by houses in a residential area, but surprisingly different once inside.

I’d like to know more about the age of the bones and what form of human life they represent, so will read up on that later. What did human life look like in 3500BC and therefore 5500 years ago?

All this is just a 47c bus ride from where we are staying. But then most of Malta is no more than two such journeys from anywhere. Buses run on time, come in old, new, cramped and comfortable styles. All bought up when overseas countries have finished with them, they might last forever in these efficient, industrious islands if they follow the trend set by temples, bones and burial chambers. At the end of the journey home, the sad fact of more recent human remains appeared before the camera.

The last stop on the archaeology tour is within walking distance of the Birzebbuga apartment. Ghar Dalam Cave puts the Tarxien Temples and the Hypogeum in the realms of mere teenagers. The cave sits amidst fields and old dwellings, and like the Hypogeum, is quite a contrast to the rest of the setting.

A huge collection of truly ancient animal bones overlayed by remnants of human activity is on show. Not just one Pleistocene hippo tooth and ankle bone, but an entire case full with a few impressive stalactites and stalagmites to round off the picture. The cave was formed by a river flowing towards the sea, hence such a large collection of relics in one location. Bones can still be seen in the clay deposits and in layers of ground cut away inside the cave.

A cold glass of local wine a 1.75 Euros and bottle added a touch of the modern to reflection at the end of a mind blowing day.

Arrival in Malta (population 410,000)

My parents met and got married in Malta 59 years ago, so this was a trip down memory lane for them and an opportunity for me to learn more about their early lives than I’ve known until now. They signed the deal at St Andrews Church of Scotland in Valetta, because Leith born dad wouldn’t dream of entering the house of any other lord. The minster’s parting shot ‘I hope I’ll be seeing you again’ probably raised the silent response ‘not likely!’ They moved from ‘his and hers’ navy barracks to live at 55 St Katherine’s St in the south western town of Birzebbugia for their final six months on the island. Mum became a navy wife as WRNS had to be single women. Dad stayed in the Fleet Air Arm through this, and later postings back in Scotland and Germany.

The house looks exactly the same, apart from a new coat of paint, and massive fuel storage tanks are still around the corner. Things staying the same is not an uncommon scenario on an island where remnants of the built environment date back to 3000BC and buildings from the 16th century are still in daily use - more on this in later posts.

Much has changed however, and development shows no signs of slowing down. After the Brits left and the Navy Shipyards closed down, independent Malta needed some means of making a living. The strategic position that had served it so well and so disastrously during WWII came into its own in peace time, and a massive transfer station for container cargo coming and going through Suez and throughout the Mediterranean is right on our doorstep.

A tanker depot sits to the landside on a point between two sandy beaches, and the next town round the coast Marsaxlokk (pronounced Marsaslock) is the main fishing port for the southern and western ends of the island. There'ss also a major power station there. It’s all amazingly clean for all that industry going on.
A large, ornate Catholic Church sits at the heart of Birzebbugia, like all other Maltese towns. It is also home to many smaller churches dedicated to different saints, and for the pleasure of passing amateur photographers. A tour guide told us there are 365 churches on the island – one for every day of the year. Not bad for an island with less than half a million people! Many churches have two clocks - one with the correct time and one wrong to trick the devil who may be waiting to catch the faithful as they go to mass.
More about Malta in later posts - for facts, figures and a better picture of the history than I am going to produce in two weeks check details on Wikipedia.

A warm welcome back to Youkay!

1st June, BMI flight 58 LHR – EDI
BMI stands for bl***y-near missed it today! As I politely informed the ever so slightly stroppy lady at the departure gate, this was not through any fault of my own.

On the advice of the transfer desk, I went to the BMI Lounge where the flight would be announced and the gate closer than the alternative option of the Star Alliance Lounge.

I passed a pleasant few hours of safety margin between arrival from the US and departure to my final destination of the day in Edinburgh. Wireless internet wasn’t working because of a change of service provider (yeah, right!). The resident laptop refused to access most of the sites I wanted (blocked pop up windows I suspect), and was completely disconnected from the printer .

But no big deal, a copy of the Guardian and a passable cup of tea were acceptable alternatives.
The first boarding call came. I packed up and set off at a fast trot, as gate 78 didn’t sound too close to the lounge beside gate 2. It wasn’t – and I barely managed not to bowl slow moving old ladies over in the maze of long narrow corridors that reminded the kiwi gal in me of sheep dipping pens.

I got to the gate just after my name had been removed from the passenger list and my flight-weary bag ordered off the plane. All the way from Auckland – LA – Austin – LA – London Heathrow without a hitch just to be nearly tripped at the last hurdle!

But after some serious negotiation, all ended well. The lady did tell me pointedly that everyone else from the lounge had managed to get there in time. This is Youkay – to borrow that moniker from Jonathon Raban – where the customer is always wrong! The baggage handler drove the point home, but graciously enough, after putting my bag back on the plane. I decided to fall somewhere just offside of that sword and only commented on the poor timing of the boarding announcement.

Finally on board a more than half empty plane, I had time to appreciate that Star Alliance Gold membership is acknowledged by a seat right behind others that are exactly the same but have a gold dandruff-catcher / napkin rather than a blue one. Reminds me of traveling first class on a train, where a snowy white napkin emblazoned with a large number 1 was the only discernible difference from cattle class.

On flight 58, just to rub the noses of the 'almost rans', in the fact that status matters in this fair country, after take off, the empty rows for the privileged few were shielded from the gaze of the plebs in the back by the closure of a set of very tatty blue curtains.

I hardly dared break into that sanctuary of the better off to get to the loo at the front of the cabin, though when I did, was relieved (!) to find they haven’t yet installed the coin slots that soon may have to be fed to get through the door. To be fair, it is another airline announced plans to introduce this, but the fast food style catering on offer at no small cost on this flight suggests the idea could well catch on.

I would not have been at all a happy bunny if I’d been charged for the disgusting state of this airborne loo. Without going into too much detail, the floor was wet and sticky and the seat wet and shiny with no seat covers available. YUK!

I decided not to fork out the astronomical price of a cuppa or accept a meal deal that smacked of that world famous Scottish sounding chain feed trough, and thought WELCOME BACK TO YOUKAY! I SEE THE SERVICE HASN'T IMPROVED!

Tomorrow promises another interesting experience as we travel the cheapest airline of them all to Malta - the one that did announce a plan to introduce charges for using the toilet (maybe a cheap advertizing campaign?) and is openly proud of offering not a single frill with the service. I guess we’ll take packed lunches and hope they haven’t thought of a byo food surcharge! Maybe I could sell them the idea!