Malta was the last country in all of Europe left for me to visit. Surprisingly there were a number of tourists on the main island….they came by ship, by plane and with multiple tour companies. More Americans are exploring there now that Carnival Cruise Lines have added this shore excursion.
My hotel was filled with a large group from Finland who had a plan that included both breakfast and dinner. Consequently the food served was buffet style and pretty much tasteless. Their wines were decent however!
This small country is known to have more UNESCO World Heritage Sites than any nation and a great deal of religious and military architecture still intact from ancient periods. I did a bus tour of the southern part of the island that included Valletta, the capital. Unfortunately the audio system with historical details about the various sites was not coordinated with the route. I saw many interesting places but had trouble understanding which was which and who did what etc. Plus it was pretty windy and cold on the upper deck!
Returning from the tour I took a city bus from Valletta to St. Paul’s Bay and unintentionally got off about 5 miles away from my hotel. As I don’t have phone service outside the USA I was in a bit of trouble. Luckily English is the second language everyone speaks (Arabic is the first) and I was able to interact with many different locals in my attempt to find my hotel and had a great workout to boot!
Malta’s Co-cathedral of St. John’s hosts two of this artist’s original paintings. While I find art interesting I certainly am not well-versed in the subject in spite of the art appreciation course I took in college about 50 years ago.
A while back one of my friends suggested I read a book called “The Last Painting, the Caravaggio Trail ” by Jonathan Harr and I loved it. When I found out this cathedral in Valletta, the capital city, housed some of his work in its museum I realized it was a must see. The church itself was also worth a visit. In fact there were lines of tourists doing just that.
As a non-surfer I was surprised to see the number of boards being loaded off the plane. I didn’t realize that one or two of the atolls were ranked in the top 30 best surfing spots in the world. My prior knowledge was mainly about the over water bungalows, expensive resorts, and the fact that the country is sinking! This is the closest I got to one of those luxurious accommodations:
I stayed with the locals on the most populous island of Male, also the capital city.
While it took forever to get there from here….San Diego to Seattle to Tokyo to Singapore to Colombo to Male and many many hours in airports between flights….it was an enjoyable visit albeit much shorter than the journey.
The streets were more like alley ways and bikes were the preferred method of travel along with boats. Because it is part of a traditional trading route, the food embodies the spices and tastes of Indian food combined with lots of fish. Since it is a Muslim country one is not allowed to bring in any alcohol or pork products. And one is forbidden to take out any sand or seashells! Tourism and fishing are their major sources of income.
Villingili is an island just a short ferry ride away where one can leave the heavy foot traffic of the city and enjoy some peace, quiet and cooling feet in the warm Indian Ocean. Western style swimsuits for women are restricted to the private resort atolls.
I was lucky to discover an alternative to exploring the underwater caves and reefs. There is a submarine that has been outfitted with a large porthole at each seat that descends over 130 feet stopping to see colorful reefs, fish and even what looked like a two-headed eel!
Truly a paradise….hard to tell the sky from the sea!
Before leaving I read an account of how millions of dollars of foreign aid to Haiti, after both the 2010 earthquake and the 2016 hurricane, were not spent wisely so I knew not to expect to see a country in recovery. I soon discovered a gross understatement of any relief success. After a couple of hours I was ready to leave. My hotel room was not ready and I was told to wait there because it was not safe for me to go “exploring” alone. So I was forced to spend a couple of hours in their patio restaurant with a sandwich and bottle of water at high resort prices.
Later I was able to hire a local guide to walk with me through the city. Jean was originally from Uganda but had lived in Haiti for years. He showed me the scars on his head where he was hit with falling bricks and was most gallant in leading me through the ravaged neighborhoods making certain he was on my outside navigating through traffic and then again when some men on a corner made some, what I assumed to be, disparaging remarks about me.
There is no traffic control and the huge potholes are the least of their problems. When a gust of wind hits it’s not dust that flies up, it’s dirt and garbage. There are make shift shacks everywhere and the famous iron market runs around and through the area.
I had an opportunity to talk with various aid workers, volunteers and directors of projects. While I have no expertise in how to solve any of the problems facing the Haitians nor do I speak Creole or French, I was amazed with the people’s fortitude and ability to survive in such conditions.
My observations confirmed what I had read about misspent funds, NGO’s not knowing how to best help, and countries like the U.S. hiring their own companies to do the work even though they didn’t speak the language or know who to trust. A representative of Alnap, an international network of humanitarian agencies explained that: “The coping strategies of local people were overlooked. Opportunities to support local businesses were missed and this explains the mixed reception foreign humanitarians get in the country. With an estimated 10,000 non-governmental organisations operating there, locals ironically refer to Haiti as an “NGO republic”.
Seven years later the country has little to show for the billions of foreign cash received and the economy doesn’t show any signs of improving. However there are a few areas of Haiti that exhibit a different lifestyle like the hillside suburb of Petion-Ville with its beauty salons, fitness gyms and restaurants as well as the private cruise ship port at Labadee.
Since my divorce 20 years ago I have lived alone and have slipped comfortably into the skin of an introvert. The fact that I have a large loving family made it easier to not seek out new friends. I am working on this however.
Recently I went on a group hiking trip in Italy with my two daughters, 10 strangers and a couple of guides,also new to me. On day one we started out at 11 in the morning and hiked for about four hours, waiting until evening to formalize introductions.
Inspired by a glass of wine (might have been two) I somehow suggested that it would be fun if I introduced everyone instead of going around the circle and telling something about ourselves. What was I thinking? My daughters thought this was hilarious and encouraged the group to let me give it a try. While trudging along I had time to visit with others as my daughters surged ahead and the new me was practicing their names and asking questions instead of talking about myself.
my My new friends were intriguing : among them were a former competitive ballroom dancer, an international driver of road rallies, one of the best orchestrators in the world and of course, local Italians, with many talents!
By the time I reached number fourteen I was actually sweating. Thank goodness everyone was gracious and helped me out when I got stuck.
I’ve always made use of public transport while traveling and have found it to be reliable and cost-effective. However, this time I was staying in a less touristy area of Paris and found many of the streets to be under some sort of construction. No one at the hotel seemed to know where the alternate bus stops were or perhaps they simply could not explain it to someone with severely limited comprehension of French.
My daughter and I were off to the French Open Tennis Tournament, a bucket-list item, and were frustrated with our inability to find the right bus. After several attempts at asking for help, a gentleman responded to my inquiry with a sexy accent in English and said, ” oh no, take oohbear, and hurry, the tennis starts at 11!”
A word of warning to others who have used viagogo to buy tickets: The official French Open site has broken ties with them and made it most difficult for us to enter. After waiting in line with everyone to gain access to the site, entrance was refused and we had to wait in another long line to fill out forms and answer questions. The stress level when we finally were admitted kept us both from even remembering who we saw that first day. Luckily the second day tickets were official and some of the best seats in the stadium! We watched Rafael Nadal at close range win his first match as easily as he won his last one.
In 1990 all 13 of my mother’s children got together to celebrate her 70th birthday in Minnesota. Some of us came great distances including my brother who buzzed the house in an F-86 Sabre Jet from Pt. Mugu, CA to Duluth Air National Guard Base, scaring everyone but announcing his imminent arrival to her party. I don’t really remember which one of us helped organize this tribute to Mom but it was a grand occasion that all of us will remember for the rest of our lives.
With my 70th approaching I wanted to make sure that I too would have my children with me. They are both accomplished young women who could easily afford their own trip but their vacation time from work is probably more valuable to them and I wasn’t convinced they’d want to spend it with me especially since we all live within a few miles of one another. So I did what any “tiger” mother would do and bought a package for the 3 of us!
We met in Turin, Italy after flying different airlines to ready ourselves for a 6 day hiking adventure with Backroads Active Travel, staying in delightful inns, getting our daily exercise and enjoying both the scenery and each other. Pictured below is the finish line in Portofino after the last hike followed by the good-bye dinner the next evening!
It was time that my mother’s gifts to me were paid forward. Truly this experience was one of the best birthdays to date! P.S. my cake……chocolate lava with gelato.