Childhood Memories

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Our ever reliable guide Louis picks us up and we set off on this morning's tour. He takes us past a German restaurant which he says is infamous in Malta. He tells us that the nightly routine there consists of filling everyone up with wine and beer, and serving them so much food that no one can possibly eat it all. At a certain time someone then rings a bell which is the signal for the patrons to start throwing the leftovers at each other. This sounds like a lot of fun… and probably would be … well unless of course you didn’t know the drill and happened to be wearing your best suit.

We go to a nursing home to visit Issy's Auntie Lina, who was married to Issy’s father’s brother and is the only surviving relative on her father's side from his generation. She’s keen to hear all the news of the family back in Australia. Lina's sister‘s there visiting her as well, and tells us that she remembers very vividly waving goodbye to Issy and her family when they left to come to Oz back in 1964. I’m not sure it had ever occurred to me before just how incredibly hard this would have been for everyone.

We drive onto the San Anton Gardens. Issy left Malta when she was only three and a half, but she has distinct memories of playing here as a child. We didn't get a chance to come here two years ago, and she was determined not to miss it this time. The gardens are green and peaceful. They’re only a few minutes walk from the house she lived in as a child, and I‘m not finding it too surprising that she’s got such fond memories of the place. I‘m feeling a bit emotional and I suspect that she is too. She particularly remembers one of the ponds we stroll past from pictures from her childhood.

The gardens are next to the San Anton Palace, which is unfortunately closed today for an official function. The palace and gardens were built in the early 17th century by the Knights of the Order of St John, and the palace subsequently became the residence of the Grand Master. Under British rule it was the official residence of the Governor and then the Governor General, and it‘s now the official residence of the President of Malta. It‘s become traditional for visiting heads of state to plant trees here as a memory of their visits, and Louis remembers being taken out of school to watch some of the ceremonies.

Next up is a local eatery which is well known for its cheap traditional Maltese food. We leave Louis to order, and the waiter comes back with Ftira - delicious giant sandwiches made from Maltese flat bread. We’re noticing a definite pattern here; as was the case last night there’s enough food on each plate to feed a small country.

We head to the mall next to the apartment to stock up on supplies. The lady at the checkout tells us that because we’ve spent so much money we’re entitled to a free bottle of water; at least that's what I thought she said. It seems we’ve instead earned ourselves a six pack of giant bottles. We‘ve now got more supplies than we can carry, and most of it‘s water. We stagger back to the apartment, stopping several times on the short walk to rest our shoulders which are now in serious danger of coming loose from their sockets.

We‘re picked up for dinner by Issy's cousin Nancy and her husband France, and they drive us north along the coast to a restaurant near the sea at Naxxar. These guys are putting us to shame when it comes to populating the planet; they’re not much older than we are and they‘re already great grandparents; Nancy became a grandmother when she was only 39. We enjoy a very pleasant evening. They tell us that they’re off to Sicily tomorrow for a holiday with seven of their children, grand children and great grandchildren. They’ve got to get up at 3am to catch their flight, so we’re careful not to keep them out too late.

We agree that Malta feels very much like home after the craziness of Sicily. Everyone speaks English, they drive on the left hand side of the road, and only some of the drivers appear to be mad.

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