Lost 17 times in three days and two nights, but every turn rewarded me with a wallpaper-worthy view.
Looking down from the airplane window before landing, the entire country appeared as a drab, gray reef. It took me three days to discover that the crevices of these rocks were bursting with color. 🌊
The wind upon landing carried a salty, fishy scent, practically pushing people out of the arrivals hall. The capital's narrow alleys were less than 2 meters wide, with yellow walls brushing against your shoulders as you walked, and only a sliver of sky visible overhead. The steps on Old Mint Street were ridiculously high; walking too fast could easily trip you. Clotheslines stretched from one end to the other, draped with faded sheets and striped shirts, flapping like signal flags when the wind picked up. 🍃
At noon, I turned into a high-walled garden—not the last one, but the Upper Barrakka Gardens on the other side. The cast-iron benches were scorching hot. I sat down to gaze at the silhouette of the Three Cities across the water. A cargo ship slowly cut through the sea, its wake trailing like a white zipper. On the hour, a faint clanging of metal came from the roof of an ochre-yellow building, not loud, but enough to send all the seagulls fluttering into the air.
You have to go to the Blue Grotto early. The boatman nudged the rubber dinghy along the rock face. Stalactites hung upside down just above my head, and light streamed in diagonally through the cracks, splitting the water into inky blue and fluorescent green halves. 🌌 I reached out, but my fingertips recoiled from the cold water. The waves tossed the dinghy up and down, splashing my back, which clung to my skin.
The Mdina city gate was like a wind tunnel, with drafts blowing my hair wildly. The cobblestones were worn smooth and shiny. Cats crouched on the walls, tails dangling, not moving even when you approached, just watching you with narrowed eyes. From the city walls, you could see the entire expanse of fields, with dry stone walls patching the earth like seams. In the distance, white smoke rose from the power plant chimney, surprisingly not an eyesore. 🌾
The ferry to the small island in the north swayed for over 20 minutes before docking. The water in the Blue Lagoon was excessively clear. Before the boat had even fully stopped, people were shouting and jumping in, splashing water that revealed every grain of white sand below. 🏝️ While snorkeling, I faced down, and schools of fish swam past my belly, their scales flashing before disappearing.
Popeye Village was tucked into a cove in the cliff. Colorful wooden houses were crookedly nailed onto the slope, some window frames rusted with orange-yellow patterns. 🚤 A few old wooden boats were moored beneath the houses, their planks cracked but unrepaired, left to soak in the seawater.
On Gozo Island, the grassy slopes slanted down into the sea. You had to dig your toes into the ground to keep from sliding down when sitting. At dusk, a crack appeared in the clouds, pouring golden light onto the cliffs opposite, transforming the entire rock into a gilded bas-relief. 🌅
The food wasn't worth writing home about, but the fried fish pieces sold from a street cart were coated in thick batter. Squeezing half a lemon over them, they were so hot they made my teeth ache, but I couldn't bear to spit them out. 🍋 There was also a honey sticky cake, served on a palm leaf. One bite pulled out threads, and it paired perfectly with a cool mint tea to cut through the richness. On Sundays, the fishing village pier had boats with eyes painted on their bows, red and blue clustered together. The boat captain squatted on the cabin roof, peeling shrimp shells and casually tossing them into the sea, attracting a swarm of small fish to snatch them up.
Three days without a schedule. Waking up in the morning, I'd walk east, stumble upon a market, buy two oranges to tuck into my pocket, and peel them as I walked. In the afternoon, I'd take a bus south, watching an old woman with a shopping basket chat idly with the driver while waiting for the bus—I couldn't understand a word, but her tone was pleasant. In the evening, I'd hop on any ferry, going to any island. After getting off, I'd find a flat rock to sit on, place the orange peels in a crevice, and return only after dark. 🚌
Remember to bring thick-soled sandals; the reefs are as sharp as broken porcelain. Change your phone charger to a three-pin square plug; they only cost 2 or 3 euros at convenience stores. Don't skimp on motion sickness patches; the small boat to the Blue Grotto will bounce you right out of your seat. Buses don't accept loose change, so you'll need to buy a card in advance, but the easiest way is to call a taxi via app and link your card.
On the day I left, I took one last look at the sea through the glass in the departure lounge. The midday sun bleached the water white, as if someone had unfurled a bolt of silk. That small city was still there, huddled, its drab exterior hiding an unrestrained blue. 💙
Benjamin Simmons Benjamin40