Episode 10

Our next excursion was to take the ferry and visit Gozo, we had seen the port the previous day when we were at Blue Lagoon. Even the relatively short bus ride from our hotel to the ferry port at the western end of the island took a staggeringly long time. Then, when we did finally arrive the gates had just been closed as a ferry was about to leave so we had quite wait for the next one. On board the ferry though I met another travelling bear, one that lives in the Cayman Islands but with the unoriginal name of Teddy. Think I would like to visit those islands and check out where this 'teddy' lives. Although he hasn't been to all the same places I have he's still very well travelled. Once we arrived on Gozo we got on yet another hop on/hop off bus as we'd been told that it was by far the best way to see most of the island in just one day. Soon we were off, with almost a full load of camera tooting tourists. We soon discovered that this island was far more rural that the main island and seems much more hilly. We were either going down some narrow steep twisting road, or up one. there were some good views over the landscape from time to time though it wasn't always easy for L to get photos from the moving bus, what with light posts and such by the road side whizzing past or tourists jumping up in front of her just as she clicked the button, she was mighty glad she wasn't using old fashioned celluloid. Most of what she did take were scrapped, so if you don't think much of what's left I'm sorry but i'm afraid it's the best she could do. At the village to Xaghra we came to yet another ancient temple, this one not under cover. Along with many others we got off the bus and went into the temple for a look around. There was a very good museum in the information centre and it really warranted much more time than what we spent there. There is really not a great lot left of this temple that sits on the upper slopes of a hillside, overlooking a valley. Also, here is an even larger megalithic block, one supposedly weighing 50 tones, but despite searching for it as we walked around we didn't see one any where near that large. There are other ancient ruins around here too, a large stone circle for one, along the steep valley this temple overlooks but we could see no sign of them. Another attraction in this village is an old windmill that was in use to grind grain until the 1970's. The last fellow in the family who worked the mill had spent quite a number of years working in the sugar cane fields of Queensland before he returned to Malta and took over the running of the mill from his elderly father. When he was running the mill it could only work when the wind was strong enough and so he would hang out a flag that once seen by the villagers they would then bring along the grain they had to be milled. The rooms at the bottom of the mill were workshops where the miller kept his tools that are now set up as a small museum, while upstairs there was quite a good residence where the family lived, then the mill stone right at the top. One of his family names was Attard, it seems a popular name in the Maltese islands and is fairly common in the Bundaberg area of Queensland. Between the two sites we had spent quite a while here but were lucky enough to catch a bus as soon as we got back to the stop. Off we went again and again without a decent audio system so we missed most of the commentary. When we came to the major city on the island, Victoria, we got off here and had a walk around the town. It is another small crowded city with narrow streets and tiny squares each of which seemed to be packed with a bus load of elderly tourists who seemed,collectively, to have little interest in what their guide was telling them. We did visit the cathedral only to have one bus load on the outside and another on the inside, as well as plenty of us independents loitering about. My lot did get themselves another nice slice of pizza from one of the little 'hole in the wall' take away shops and sat themselves in a tiny piazza to eat it. We did set out to follow the signs to the citadel, however somewhere along the way we run out of signs and all we found was another church, where the priest invited us in to have a look. It was beautifully decorated inside. The day had galloped away on us yet again, with the bus not as frequent as on the main island we would only have time to make one more stop. We called at Dwejra's Bay where L would really have liked to have got off and spent some time looking around but we decided we would get off at the next place, Xlendi. This small town turned out to be a popular holiday spot. The tiny beach was packed with sunbaked tourists, this late in the day they were starting to pack up and head back to their lodgings. The bay itself is very deep with steep sides, on the one side there were houses and hotels backing up the steep slope, on the other was a viewing platform and walking path leading further on. We didn't have time to walk off up to the viewing platform so we just settled for a look around the town. Then it was back onto the bus that took us back to the ferry terminal. On our trip back across the strait to the main island the sun set in a blaze of golden glory, it shone a golden path across the calm sea, quite a site. We had quite a long wait for a very crowded bus back to our hotel. Suddenly it was our last day on Malta, where had our time gone! L had decided that she would like to see the catacombs we had missed at Rabat, now that David's foot was somewhat better and he could walk a bit further. She did have some notion in her head that after the catacombs we could go into Valletta again and have another look, what she hadn't allowed for was the great long wait we had for the bus, any bus, as it turned out, from our nearest bus stop. We waited and waited, both of my lot wilting in the hot sun at the bus stop. There were lots of busses going the other way but nothing coming our way, expect that is for two 'out of service' busses. What was gobbling them up at the end of the line? Eventually after well over an hours' wait one came along, and although he wasn't really the one we wanted he told us to get on and he would put us down where we could catch another bus to our destination at Rabat. This worked well and we had only a short wait for the next bus. Once we arrived in Rabat we quickly and easily found our way to the catacombs. Many of these date from pre Roman times; it is a well documented fact from those times that the Romans had to bury their dead outside the city walls, and this place was the best part of a kilometre from where we had visited the Roman villa some days ago. The catacombs are underground burial chambers dug out of solid rock. Some are quite small, just infant size, whilst most are large adult size and seem to be in groups. In many chambers there is a round 'table' dug out of the rock in front of the tombs, this is believed to be where the most important of the funeral party sat and ate the funeral repast. Even today, in some countries you see picnic tables beside a group of family ancestral graves where families come and have a picnic surrounded by their ancestors. These catacombs had all been robbed of the most valuable items and were used and reused over the centuries. Some are of obvious jewish faith being decorated with a Menorah at the entrance, though beside them there are other faiths including Christian and Moslem. There are many that have been elaborately decorated though it is very hard to see much trace of any such decoration. These are tombs of the wealthier, more influential members of the community, whilst the poor merely had a 'hole in the rock'. Little changes even over thousands of years: We spent a good while here then made our way back towards the bus stop and came across a small kiosk selling local pies. They looked good even to a stuffed toy like me. L got a slice of ricotta and spinach, David chose something different and we sat under a shady tree while they scoffed the lot. As the lovely old church at Mosta was sort of on our way anywhere we took the bus to there then had a short time to wait until it opened again for visitors at 3pm. We then went inside for a look. This is the church with the 3rd largest unsupported dome in the world. It is considerable smaller than both St Peters in Rome and St Sophia's in Istanbul. It can't be much larger than any number of large cathedrals around the UK and Europe. Someone was kind enough to point out to us where the bomb that had been dropped on it in WW11 had fallen through. Although there had been many people sheltering in the church during the bombing raid the bomb had missed everyone and didn't explode so is perceived to be a miracle that no-one was even injured, probably was: A replica of the bomb sits in a back room. Some time after the end of the war the pilot of the plane came to the church and apologised for dropping it. It seems his apology was accepted by the parishioners, wonder what the outcome would have been if it had actually killed people. L did have some vague idea of going into Valletta again, however after considering the time the busses take to get from point A to point B it was decided we would head back to our hotel where my lot could then shower and change and relax for a while before heading off to the airport for our flight back to the UK late that night. Our transfer bus arrived to collect us right on schedule so we bid farewell to the hotel people and headed off. At the airport when we were in the immigration queue for exiting the country L had a couple of blokes that were totally pi—d out of their brains standing in front of her. When they finally go to the desk it turned out that they were entering the country not leaving, how the hell they managed to get in our queue L couldn't work out. Still it seemed to provide some entertainment for the immigration official who thought it was really hilarious. We had the rear most seats on the plane and arrived back at Gatwick in the early hours of the morning. Found some seats in a draughty hall and settled down to rest and wait for our train at 7am. Some others were prepared for long waits having settled on the floor in sleeping bags. So, here i am again back at Brookside and sitting here doing nothing again. L and D seem to be busy sorting something out about going home but I'e not been kept in the loop, so you will just have to wait, like me, to see what is in the offing. © Lynette Regan 31st October 2017