The "lift" takes us up to the second floor. From there we go down a corridor, through a defunked hotel bar, then up four long flights to reach the top floor. A skeleton key turns the lock, and we have to crouch so that we don't bump our heads to get into our hotel room (I've bumped mine several times now). Not much more than a garret ("garret": a top-floor or attic room, esp. a small dismal one). But, the little veranda that comes with our garret has the most spectacularly gorgeous view of Malta's grand harbor and the Mediterranean Ocean We are in the British Hotel, the oldest in the city of Valletta, the capital of Malta.
Yup, Stacy and I are back in Malta, a little group of islands south of Sicily in the Mediterranean. I know, wasn't I just in Prague a month ago? That was an unexpected trip to visit Ben. He asked (I hoped he would), I couldn't refuse.
Malta has to be one of the most beautiful spots on earth. Many of the cities date from the 16th Century and virtually all of it built out of a creamy yellow limestone quarried from the island.
We decided to visit during "Holy Week" (the week around Easter) because of the elaborate Good Friday and Easter celebrations. Malta is 95% Catholic with more churches per capita than any other country. Religion is a way of life, here, with Catholic icons adorning most buildings, houses, and even buses, and genuflecting as common as sneezing.
Thursday, our first full day, we spent being driven around by our guide Vince Debono. Since we had hit most of the must see places during our first trip, this time we wanted to see some of the smaller towns and villages. One of the points of interest were the WWII bomb shelters. Malta was a British Colony, an outpost for the British fleet, and surrounded by axis countries during the war. It was bombed more than any other single place during WWII, in fact, more than any other country in history (so they say). There are long tunnels with adjoining rooms carved under most of the island where a hundred thousand people spent a good part of the war.
Thursday night as we were relaxing on our porch all the church bells on the island began ringing at the same time. This amazing and fabulous cacophony of hundreds of bells lasted for over 30 minutes.
Friday most everything was closed for Good Friday (a national holiday). We took one of the 60's vintage buses over to the "Three Cities" on the other side of Grand Harbor to check things out. We strolled about working class neighborhoods until we bumped into Jesus Christ and his apostles. Well, actors playing the parts. We were invited in (50 Maltese cents) to see a reenactment of the last supper. Thirty of forty others on rickety fold up chairs. Of course, it was in Maltese (a weird blend of Italian and Arabic) so we couldn't understand a word, but we got the gist.
Friday night, back in Valletta not far from our hotel, we watched a procession from a Cathedral that included marching bands, people dressed as Romans, pagans, Jews, and Christians, and the carrying of huge icons of Jesus et al out of the church and through the streets. This parading ritual takes place from many churches throughout the country and different parishes vie for the most elaborate. You would have to see to believe.
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