The End of our Maltese Magic

Now, I shall finally finish my Maltese saga, seriously this time. I realize now that it’s nearly impossible to write about Malta and have everyone understand it. These posts are more just lists of things we did, but I guess it’s the best I can do until you all visit Malta… which I highly recommend. The last three days in Malta were less jam-packed as the others so this post should be easy. Here we go, Thursday through Saturday.

Thursday was the last day for two of the voyagers who were off to London next, where I would meet them on Saturday. Lisa and I woke up early to attempt to get our breaking boots fixed before we went to colder climates. Upon exiting the hotel, we looked at each other in total shock. It was summer. Once we met up with our Maltesers we found out it was 24.1 degrees out… that’s 78 degrees for you ‘mericans… and it was the second hottest February day in Maltese history. We’ll take it. We met the others on the beach after they had gone swimming, something I didn’t dare attempt, and we hung out on the beach (well, rocks) for a good part of the morning. Our pale skin needed that sunlight desperately and a couple people even got sunburned. We were in heaven. We then drove along the coast to a great little café called the Busy Bee, which came highly recommended by Krista’s mom. After filling our stomachs with sandwiches and cannolis, we set our sights on some more outdoor activities.

When it was suggested we go to the Maltese national forest, many of us were perplexed. No where on this rock of an island had we seen any semblance of a forest, but in fact, there is something one may be able to call a forest. I say this because, being from New Hampshire, my life is in one giant forest. You don’t need to drive to get to a forest, just walk across the street. Anyway, the park was great and we saw a castle-thing that I think is the Maltese president’s summer home. We romped around the woods, threw some rocks for a while and played some park games while the sun set. But the hour was growing late and to the airport we went. Two down, six to go.

That night we got our first glimpse at Paceville, an area (town??) near Sliema that is utterly covered in bars and nightclubs… we just got some pizza and Cisk beer and ate down by the waterfront, much more relaxing. After a few hours, exhaustion was setting in so back to the hotel we went. The next morning, Friday, was a morning I had been dreading. Well, dreading is awfully dramatic, but see this was a day we were meant to hike. Being me, I brought the most wildly inappropriate shoes ever for a two week vacation: reef flip flops, flimsy, crappy black flats and a pair of heeled black leather boots. What I was thinking, I’ll never know. Anyway, from these options, I chose flip flops and it was probably the best decision considering. So we were off, my intelligent friends in sneakers and jeans and Alissa… in flip flops, leggings and basically a wool sweater. Sighh. We hiked along the beautiful beach at Golden and Apple Bays (I think…) though I wish I could remember their Maltese names. Between each bay were gorgeous cliffs and at the top of the first one we reached were giant clay cliffs. Stefan joked, “we’re going to slide down those!” Did I say joke? Wait, it wasn’t a joke. One by one, we slid down a clay cliff on our butts, picking up tremendous amounts of velocity. FLIP FLOPS. I survived, but my feet were none too pleased. Then we had to get back up the cliff. Sigh. I had some people watch my back as we climbed back up the steep cliffs… then the clay started giving way so we had to run up the cliffs…. FLIP FLOPS. I survived, scolded myself and Krista for the strenuous trail we had taken. But then we found a sweet cave and ate a delicious lunch. While the others climbed the cliffs and rocks, I stayed behind and enjoyed the cave and not dying due to poor footwear. We returned to Krista’s house for tea and got ready to drop Darcy off at the airport who was venturing on to Iceland. Three down, five to go. That night we went out for a real night in Paceville and met a bunch of Krista and Stefan’s friends. We struggled to stay out with all the youngins, but our week of intense tourism was catching up with us, not to mention some people had relatively early flights the next day.

So sadly, the next day, Saturday, Sam, Wes, Katie and John were all brought to the airport in the morning and seen off. Seven down… one to go? Yes. I was definitely the smartest of the group and I got an entire afternoon to myself of Malta, Krista and Stefan. We went back to Valetta for lunch and some more exploring. We lied across the ramparts and let the wind nearly tear us apart. We went down to the seaport and sat by the water talking about what an amazing week it had been. I was so glad to be able to have this last afternoon in Malta, I didn’t want to leave a second earlier… well, I didn’t want to leave at all. So after tea and many patizzi at Stefan’s, I was the last to go to the airport. Off to London, I was, and off on some new adventures.