Someplace in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea there sits a small island, actually an archipelago of islands that qualify as one of the smallest countries in the world. (10th) Historically it has played an outsized role in history. This means that everybody and his brother has fought here for either control or ownership of this strategic location. Now we’re here too, adding to the amazing density, and forming opinions. So, I’ll share.
We are in an Air BnB, chosen for its location and other stuff too. We didn’t want to stay in the capital city Valletta ( size .24 sq miles) because we heard it is wall to wall with business and tourists. We are in Birgû, nearby, peering out our window at a harbor of boats and sparkling blue water. Below our window, I can hear the buses, street traffic, pizzeria customers, and people chatting, or yelling which they do a lot by American standards. Our building is several hundred years, built of this strange tufa rock that everyone here uses This stonen is soft, and scratchy, and can be dug out easily. This place has secrets. Tunnels, caves, giant walls, turrets, cannons, arches bridges, deep harbors too.
We did get to the once-a-week market that goes on for about a kilometer, selling everything. No, I saw no drugs or enslaved persons. No grocery stores here where we are, but the market truly sells everything.
Our BnB owner took us out on a walk last night to tell us some history of his country. Passionate and informed, he elucidcated about Phoenicians, Ottoman Turks, Sicilians, Napoleon, Brits, Knights of Hospitaler ( Order of St. John, a military force ) slave traders, Greeks, Romans, and WW2 blockages meant to starve them out, Catholic saints ( 300 churches here, one right next to the other, and one that might be Episcopal, but also Catholic ) and Arabic background too. Catholic is the official religion, and we’ve seen some nuns in various garb around town. Lots of statues of virgins and saints in niches on corners, above houses, tucked around for protection. And water, surrounding all.
I keep listening to people speak, picking like a prospector looking for gold. And they sound like some Italian and English words, coming out from around the sound that only Germans, Jews, and Arab/Israeli’s seem to make naturally in the backlot of the soft palate, a bit like clearing one’s throat but isn’t. It’s Semitic I think. There is probably a name for it in German, in 14 syllables. Then they end with Ciao Ciao! They switch languages on a dime, too, and write with accents and umlaults, dicrits too over vowels, so being American, I am just befuddled.
We wandered around the capital Valletta today, making people-observations. This used to be British, until 1967 and they drive on the left-hand part of the road, which is hard to get used to, as I keep being nearly run over. The folks here seem to be very casual, more often dressed in their sweats. The overwhelming numbers of British and Germans tourists are really fair-skinned, like they’ve seldom seen sunshine – Lew was finally around people whose skin is paler than his. There are, in Valletta, lots of British stores, since they managed the country for over a hundred years, and this is a UK holiday destination.
The Brits and Germans are big people, compared to the Maltese, who tend to look like Greeks, shorter in stature, and dark. The Africans are tall and rangy mostly. After seeing all the trim Italians in their stylish ways, I was surprised at how different the populations look and sound, since they are so close geographically, and somewhat culturally. But really, the Italians as a whole have no hips, and style is easier without those intrusive body parts.
Over lunch ( yummy pasta ) we noticed a somewhat steady stream of navy-suited men with blindingly white shirts all looking like they were going someplace intentionally, not fitting in. They stood out and looked vaguely ominous. I figured salesmen of something we really didn’t want — no timeshares here, thanks so much — and then in one more adventurous moment (another time let me tell you about navigator Lew and his google directions ) we were denied entrance to what might be called their government building, — we were looking for the ferry, really! — the puzzle came together and is now clear why those men looked so devious. They were politicians. They had me at Navy Blue Suit!
This place was basically demolished after WW1 since it was holding down the Mediterranean against the Axis powers, and since this was heavily utilized by England. Their treasures were bombed, the old buildings were blown back to rubble. If I heard correctly, they rebuilt the major damage from the demolition, back in 3 years. It is obviously a tremendous accomplishment, and so the country of Malta is both very new, and very old, and probably wiser and stealthier for all that. The walled city of Malta seems proud.
Tomorrow we are going to see where part of Game of Thrones was filmed. I expect a lot of films are produced here, in this dramatic setting, with curiosity tugging for attention around every corner.