Do as the Maltese do

by Brendan Honnery (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

A leap into the unknown Malta

The heat was forgivable. Warmth seeped into everything and everyone. Hues of the sunset splashed our 7th floor apartment – white walls transforming into a fiery Jackson Pollock. The table on the balcony still radiant at the touch. My friends and I were eating in tonight, being careful to remember that we had a ferry to catch within the hour. The dishes we had prepared were placed on the balcony with chairs facing the unobstructed views of the harbour. We sat for dinner in t-shirt and shorts – island apparel. Beer and wine was quick to lose its cool. I don’t remember what we were talking about, or why we laughed so much, but all notions of time managed to fleet us, and we were running late for our ferry. We now had 15 minutes to finish up and get the ferry across the harbour, but we did not fret, for we had achieved ‘island time’ - a Maltese ‘Hakuna Matata’. This was a leap into uncharted territory; it was a difficult ability to shake, and even more difficult to forget. Three days earlier, we had a very different outlook. “Merhba! Merhba!” Paul shouted. We had arrived in Malta with an air of urgency – one that the locals could smell. Having Maltese heritage myself, I knew little of the language, and even less of the local attitude. “Welcome!” I replied with such excitement, a word that I recognised. Paul nodded, accepting my translation. We needed to rush to get our car. Paul, the hire-car employee, sat us down in the airport Costa coffee shop, not at all in a hurry to move through our transaction. We remained polite, but festering inside to get a move on. We had spent months planning this trip, and we had just landed in Malta – we wanted to dive straight into it. After documents were signed, our trip had begun. Valletta was first on our list as we needed to get to our Airbnb. A beautiful penthouse overlooking the harbour with places to swim just 7 flights of stairs down. It was difficult to settle into our accommodation, knowing that the very reason of our trip was so close to reach. Our bags were thrown onto our beds, and after admiring the view, we found ourselves in the crystal waters of the harbour. We were glad we rushed: the more time we had to swim, the better. It was at this little swimming spot we realised that we were the only tourists. Locals were spread across the rocks, none of them had run down like we had. Families, couples and friends were simply enjoying the company of each other, the warmth of the rock, and the relief of the water. But this was a passing moment, although one that I’ve remembered clearly. The second day in Malta involved driving, and plenty of it. Valletta to Marsaxlokk. The narrow streets of these towns weave and wind amongst wonderful limestone buildings. Pastizzi shops are relentless along these streets – a savoury pastry, and a favourite of the Maltese people. Signs advertising Kinnie, an orange and herb flavoured drink, scattered the local shops. On these streets, you will also find drivers of the nonchalant kind; blasé to put it lightly. Nothing seemed to faze them. It was us who stressed over the small things at the beginning: cars parking in the street; people driving slowly; and cars turning without looking. However, throughout the 30 minute drive, the Maltese attitude was quickly embedded into us. Let’s just say, that the drive back wasn’t as stressful when you adopt the local mindset. By day three, many more opportunities arose for us to learn the lifestyle, to stay on ‘island time’ and to not sweat the small stuff. Malta is a country of simplicity; the Maltese people have mastered the casual way. We all were in this head space that evening on the balcony. As our plates were cleared, and our beers almost drunk, the sun had found its way over the horizon. The ferry arrived every 45 minutes. We had missed the one we planned for, but that truly didn’t matter.