Malta

June 9, 2009

After getting our breakfast in bed again, we went out to the balcony to watch the ship pull in to Valetta, Malta. What a beautiful coast! I made a mental note of all the prominent buildings because you never know when you will need to know a city’s skyline.

Dean arranged a private car to take us around the island, which was SO nice. Instead of piling into a dusty ol’ tour bus with a bunch of tourists (we hate tourists), we slid into leather seats in the back of a Benz. The driver took us anywhere we wanted to go, stopped if I wanted a picture of something, and waited for us if we wanted to explore on foot. Really the way to see the island! He chatted with us the whole ride and answered my incessant questions. Maltese is a very mixed language with very diverse influences, but English is the second language so communicating was easy.

One of the highlights the driver suggested was the president’s garden, so we stopped there. We hopped out of the car and walked through the peasant’s entrance (the presidente has his own entrance, of course). The flowers were bright and lovely and there was an intricately carved fountain with angels, but what shocked the heck out of me was rounding a corner and running smack dab into a peacock. No cage. Just a bright-blue, huge-feathered, kind-you-see-in-National-Geographic peacock. He was strutting about with plumage at full mast, so I whipped out my camera and started clicking. He didn’t actually seem to like that very much, or maybe he did, but the actions he took was he started to make noises and really get his tail feathers wagging and then he started toward me. So I quickly jumped up and advised Dean calmly to run very fast in the other direction.

We also went to Ta’Qali, a village that is a creative commune of artists making and selling fine goods. The driver walked us directly into a glass store whose sign quite plainly read “closed,” proceeded to turn on the lights and then marched us back to the glass blowing studio where we were, much to our relief, greeting by jovial hello’s. The artists made animals for us, twisting the molten glass into the shape of a rabbit, then a swan. Next we were taken to the pottery store, where the Queen of England had visited years earlier with the Maltese Prime Minister. To round out the village we saw some gorgeous handmade Maltese lace and delicate filigree making. Dean bought me a little silver filigree heart charm with my birthstone in it for my charm bracelet.

We drove to the center of the island to see Mdina, which depending on who you ask, was constructed right around 2000 BC. It is the old capital of Malta. We walked around with our necks craned looking up at all the marble and impressiveness. There is a vantage point from there where you can see about three-quarters of Malta. It. Was. Awesome.

We decided to get dropped off in the center of Valetta, the port city next to the cruise. I could hardly wait to see St. John’s Cathedral, which I’ve read so much about. I have to lay down some background now. The Malta sun gets brutally hot during the day, and we’d been warned by several people. Out of respect to my dear sister’s choice in bridesmaids gown which I will wear here in just a little bit (June 21), I chose a strapless sundress to wear today so I would not get unsightly tan lines and ruin her wedding pictures. (Lookin’ out for ya, T.) Also, I will point out that I have been told time and again by my wonderful and very Catholic mother that shoulders must be covered whilst in church. All of that stated, as I was walking into St. John’s Cathedral, I was accosted by a frenzied older woman who had to jump to get the piece of cloth she was carrying to my shoulder height, since I am, of course, nine feet tall. Immediately realizing the issue of my bare shoulders, my face flushed and I quickly complied but the image of the woman treating the situation like she’s jumping on a (very tall) grenade is so funny to me I just had to share. Even though I am sure I just embarrassed my poor mother, who admittedly has taught me better.

Crisis averted, we began to look around. Sumptuous is probably the best word for it. Lavish. Gold. Even with my eyes taking it in, it was hard to believe how rich everything was. Seriously, it looked like Donald Trump’s penthouse on steroids. (Anyone else watch MTV cribs?) We saw several Cavaggio paintings in the attached oratory, including his famous Beheading of John the Baptist. Then there were the huge illuminated carol manuscripts and floor-to-vaulted-ceiling tapestries that were so intricately woven, they looked like paintings. A gift from the Flemish in 1702. People really knew how to give gifts back then. Dean thought the Church should sell the building and its contents, and they’d surely be able to end hunger in Africa.

After the church, we wandered around Valetta a bit more, saw the Prime Minister’s office, shopped a bit, and headed back to the boat when we were a few minutes away from heatstroke.