Malta

I’m not sure what I expected landing in Malta. It’s just a short half hour flight from Catania in Sicily, or a half-day ferry ride. Sicily has tiny islands to its south, even further south than Malta — wouldn’t it make sense if Malta were similarly Italian in character? But it’s also a stone’s throw away from North Africa, and the Maltese language is closely related to Arabic. Wouldn’t it make sense if Malta were an Arabic-speaking Muslim country?

That’s the logic brain talking. Ignoramus brain only knew of Malta as a hedonistic destination for nightlife party-seeking Brits and festival-goers, and a microstate playground for the rich akin to Monaco.

So imagine my surprise that my logic brain wasn’t right at all. Not only that, but my ignoramus knowledge was but a footnote in a stay that provided the kind of genuine surprises that I find increasingly uncommon after so much travel.

The Italian connection? Generally just present in the local love of pasta. The North African connection? Maybe the architecture in some of the more residential towns. The hedonism? Generally compressed into the town of St. Julian’s, mwalking distance from the quiet residential town of Sliema that I stayed in. The riches? Well, there’s a little bit of that everywhere, but it’s definitely not universal.

Religion? Well, Malta’s very Catholic. Unlike Sicily’s cathedrals, generally open for public access yet sparsely attended, Malta’s are well-attended, and generally closed when mass isn’t held. There’s a couple notable exceptions though, the primary one being the St. John’s Co-Cathedral in Valletta: having been a member of the St. John Ambulance Cadets program in my youth without really thinking about it, I was shocked to realise the shared insignia of the 8-pointed star belongs to the Order of St. John and the Knights of Malta, the multi-national religious military order dating back to the 1100s, ruling over Malta in the 1500s, that still exists today as a sovereign state with no territory. That order defended Western Europe from the Ottoman Empire and was what kept them Catholic — a sharp contrast to the Muslim countries a stone’s throw away in North Africa. Flags of the Order and the Vatican fly all over Malta, arguably moreso than the modern-day Maltese flag.

As for the cathedral itself? I’m quite jaded from visiting European cathedrals in general, but this… Wow. Not only is it blindingly gold and jam-packed with the typical religious references, but various chapels are dedicated to Spain, France, Italy, and more states with nods to them too. The ceiling’s painted with the entire life to death of John the Baptist, and the floor’s covered with inlaid marble tombs. I’ve never felt more overwhelmed. (And on top of that, they house a Caravaggio painting. The Knights of Malta sheltered Caravaggio after he fled Italy as a murderer, pardoned and knighted him, received his stunning painting of The Beheading of Saint John the Baptist, then expelled him after he seriously wounded someone in a fight. Whew, how did this ever fly?)

The Knights were the ones who built all the fortifications on the island, and Valletta, the gorgeous capital, is just one of them, with panorama points to the Three Cities (Birgu, Senglea, Cospicua) just across the water, each with their own forts. Valletta’s own Fort St. John houses a war museum that was an excellent crash-course in not just Malta’s role as defender of European Christianity in the Middle Ages, but its stints as a French and British colony, and its important location for shipping and war supply for the Allied Forces leading to its title as most heavily bombed place on Earth in World War II by the Germans and Italians.

While Valletta retains beautiful alleys, retro signs, distinct historical architecture, and notably shallow stairs on the hilly streets for knights in heavy armour to walk waaay back in the day, other towns (yes, plural) on this tiny island have completely different characters. Nearby Sliema, where I stayed, feels residential in its interior, but is ringed by glitzy real estate, beach clubs, and a big mall. Next door is St. Julian’s, the nightlife spot with glitzy towers and international restaurants. But most of the time, I found myself further afield, taking bus after bus (partly for the air conditioning!) and zigzagging to the point that I’m convinced the island is a TARDIS: geographically tiny, but seeming a whole lot bigger than that on the inside. The island may be some 30 km at its widest, but I frequently took bus rides of over an hour.

Further south is Marsaxloxx, a sleepy fishing village that comes alive for the weekly Sunday market. In the centre is Mdina, where a fortified old town is still inhabited and glows in late afternoon light, directly abutting the more residential town of Rabat, home to some truly impressive catacombs of varying Christian, Jewish, and pagan origin, reflecting a variety of burial rituals and repurposed underground gathering spaces. In the north is Mellieħa, full of tourist resorts (and weirdly, a Popeye theme park which I didn’t see) but also home to some gorgeous sunsets on its coastal west side.

And of course, dotted around the island are various deep-blue swimming holes and beaches, never far away from wherever you may be, and a dire necessity in the sweltering summer heat and humidity. Looking at the Blue Grotto from afar was good enough for me, but the waters at the tour boat dock in Wied Iż-Żurrieq were too inviting to ignore. And under that water all around Malta are lots and lots of shipwrecks, and I took the opportunity to do my first wreck dive, a gentle walk into the water and swim just offshore from where I was staying in Sliema.

But up north beyond the namesake island of Malta, there’s Gozo, a far quieter island once you get past the throngs of tourists doing daytrips to the Blue Lagoon, with a placid residential character. The town of Victoria, the Gozitan capital of a mere 6000 people, is home to a large citadel built in the 15th century AD on top of an acropolis dating back all the way to the Punic-Roman era in the 15th century BC! As if that weren’t old enough, there’s the Ġgantija Temple ruins in nearby Xagħra: older than the pyramids and dating back to possibly 3600 BC, the feat of construction is so impressive for that era (before the invention of the wheel) that its name comes from a conspiracy that it was built by giants. The town of Xagħra itself, on the other hand, has an almost North African feel, yet also contains an old windmill built in the imported style of Mallorca’s.

Likely from the same era and unknown civilization as Ġgantija is Ħaġar Qim in the southwest of Malta island, even more impressive in scale and preservation. Who knows why they built things aligned with the sun during solstice? Who knows how they excavated and carried those giant monoliths? What are all the discovered figurines for? That something this large can stand for millenia yet have its purpose lost in time truly boggles my mind.

It’s a far cry from the Malta of now that I’m witnessing, aside from the jarringly densely populated and traffic-choked capital region. While the Maltese language shares a lot in common with Arabic, and is in fact the only Semitic official language in the European Union, for most of my stay, English is what I heard most. And beyond the pastizzi (flaky pastries I gorged on for most breakfasts, savoury or sweet) and ftira (sandwiches with a local bread in Malta; “sauceless pizzas” on Gozo), most of the food you see isn’t traditionally Maltese. Maltese people aren’t who I see most of either: it’s a heady blend of internationalism, with a whole lot of Asians.

But it’s a Maltese friend who planted the idea for me to come visit — and it took me a whole 10 years to do so! Martin, who I met way back in Ethiopia, invited me for a couple of lovely meals with completely different vibes: one at a casually upscale yacht club overlooking Valletta from across the water with his friend Jonie, and another in a middle-of-nowhere village tavern west of Rabat. The former: some lovely Italian food, and all foreign staff. The latter: all Maltese food — rabbit and horse dishes included — and plenty of spoken Maltese. Both delicious!

Perhaps this study in contrast may have just summed up the island life. On one hand, there’s people like Martin who live in a 400-year-old house. On the other, there’s the fact that Malta’s population has increased by around 30% to nearly 600,000 in the last 10 years. Foreign residents almost entirely make up that number. Some of that is likely due to desirability from rich foreigners and those associated with online gambling, one of Malta’s largest industries.

But most of the foreigners come due to high demand for service jobs in a country with an aging native population, and those folks remit money home and don’t have a path to citizenship. Well, that explains all the South and Southeast Asians working in restaurants and other lower wage jobs, and the foreign businesses catering to them: sounds a bit like a Qatar or Singapore situation.

And then there’s the mass tourism and swelling summer crowds, of which I find myself a part of. Combined, this has further set off a construction boom in what is already one of the most densely populated countries in the world, and housing prices are rapidly rising. Sound familiar?

While the risk of overcrowding the straining infrastructure exists, for now, there’s a delicate balance. It’s one where access to almost everything you could ever want exists in close proximity: a mountain of history to delve into, life on and along the water to enjoy, quiet corners and sleepy fishing villages, hustle and bustle, cheap thrills or upscale hobnobbing, busy nightlife, arts and culture, the latest trends, food from around the world accommodating any diet… Six days seemed like a lot coming into such a small place, but I didn’t even manage to cover everything that interested me.

But if you’re somehow sick of it all, or at least of the heat like me, it’s gotta help when your flagship carrier is an ultra low-cost airline!