Malta 2006 - Day 4

During our visit to the useless Welcome Session one of the other snippets of information from Sandra was that a bus trip to Valetta, the capital city was not to be missed. The bus was cheap and Valetta was the sort of place it was impossible to get lost in no matter how hard you tried. The reason for this was that once you arrived at the bus station there was nowhere for you to go except straight on into the town. Valetta is one of the oldest cities to be built on a grid system so consequently, if you carried straight on it was a downhill stroll until you arrived at the sea where you had to stop. Now came Sandra’s special rep’s inside knowledge. “Most people,” she told us, “reach the sea front, turn around and find they have to walk back up through the city to the bus station again. Not as easy and enjoyable walking back up a constant incline as it was walking down by any means.” But wait for it…here’s the tip. “All you have to do,” she said, “is when you reach the sea front, hop on a cheap ferry across to Sliema, see the sights and then bus it back from there. No hard work involved at all.”

So off we went to Valetta.

The bus trip was fine and getting off at the bus station we wandered down the main street which stretched out before us in one long straight line gradually taking us down to sea level. We stopped only once and that was to have something to eat. I had a tuna salad which was served on a plate the size of a dustbin lid and had enough tuna piled to the ceiling to have decimated that day’s fishing quota. Emma, Hollie and Sam ordered pizzas which were so large they could only manage to eat half at the most. They could have just ordered one between the three of them had they known. Meanwhile Pauline ordered a pasta dish. Basically because it offered a free glass of wine with it…not that she’s an alcoholic or anything…

As we carried on down towards the coast (we had a map) everyone decided it would be a good idea to visit the old fort which was overlooking the sea and offered ‘The Maltese Experience’; a cinematic slide show with headphone commentary which you could switch to your language of choice. When it was over we started off to find the ferry to take us across to Sliema.

We were on the coast so we had a choice of going left or right and although the ferry wasn’t marked on the map it was obvious that left was the way to go as that was where the bay and Sliema were. It was an unbearably hot day and we walked…and walked…and walked. We appeared to be walking along a major coast road with a sheer drop on one side down to the rocky coastline a long way below. All the time we were walking we didn’t see any access points down to the shoreline so we assumed the ferry would be just around the next bend…or the next one…or the next one. So the five of us with the one map kept walking. (The map didn’t walk, silly). Hollie, Sam and Emma were up front followed by Pauline with me bringing up the rear. I was so hot that my body had filled up with perspiration which had reached the highest level it could before it started running out of my eyes, ears and nose.

“Where’s the bloody ferry?” I kept asking but of course nobody answered because, as I couldn’t see anything through my perspiring eyes and sweat-stained sunglasses, I didn’t realise that everybody else was 200 yards or so ahead of me and couldn’t hear me. I knew we were in trouble when Pauline and Hollie were huddled over the map when I caught up with them. How could we have missed the ferry?

Jesus, not again. How many holidays, how many times have we been in some God-forsaken hole walking for miles in the blazing sun not knowing where the hell we were? We’re experts at it. We could get lost in some of the finest cities in Europe – easy, map or no map. That’s what we’re good at. That’s why we come to these places in the first place. We don’t bother to see the sights, our objective is to see how long we can walk in 100 degree temperatures before we collapse and die of heat stroke or dehydration.

I think the damned heat was getting to me so I tried to pull myself together. Don’t let them see it’s getting to you. Put on a brave face. Whistle a happy tune. Remember, your daughter looks up to you for guidance and inspiration in times of trouble, your wife needs your support and you’ve got the added responsibility of returning two of Emma’s friends safely back to their parents.

Take a deep breath.

Stay calm.

We’ll find the ferry eventually; it’s only a little bit of hot sun after all.

Keep your dignity.

“Oh God, I can’t stand it anymore. I’m so hot. I’m so hot. We’re never going to get back. I can’t go on. I’ll never again see the white cliffs of Dover. We’re doomed, I say, doomed. Where are we? Where are we going? Where have we come from? The heat. The heat. It’s killing me. It’s killing me.”

Pauline said, “Emma, go and give Dad a slap around the face and tell him to put his shirt and shorts back on before he gets arrested will you?”

Once I’d recovered from Emma wrestling me to the ground and she’d given me a good talking to I noticed that we’d stopped by a sort of car parking area; it was an open piece of rubble strewn land with one car on it. I saw what appeared to be a local young woman striding purposefully towards it and shouted to no one in particular, “Quick, ask her!” By now Emma had felt confidant enough to release the head lock she had on me and let me pull my shorts up. “What did she say? What did she say?” I shouted.

“Well,” said Pauline, “as far as I can gather, she said the ferry is back along the way we’ve just come.”

“How can that be? How can that be?” I shouted.

There had been a sheer drop between us and the coast below with no access at all ever since we’d started walking. It didn’t make sense. “The other thing she said,” said Pauline, “is the bus station is just five minutes walk away ahead of us around that bend.”

So what had we done? We’d walked straight down to the coast from the bus station in the first place, turned left and walked miles along the coast road until it veered inland and back to the bloody bus station again. In all that time we’d not seen any signs directing us to a ferry, there’d not been any way of reaching the rocky coast below us and even more importantly we’d not seen any evidence of ferries crossing the bay below. It was just another mystery. I’ve a good mind to get a bus to Sliema and get the ferry across to Valetta just to see where it bloody well disembarks. It’s got to be here somewhere hasn’t it?

During the bus journey back a woman got on with a push chair and a baby. The woman looked just like Quentin Tarantino in drag, not the prettiest sight. She sat immediately in front of us and spent the whole journey staring bug-eyed at the poor little sod in the push chair. I couldn’t see the baby’s face but I bet it’s been traumatised for life. She certainly scared the hell out of me.