Karen Gales Youngson: Birzebbugia on St Paul's Day

We spent the morning puttering around the apartment waiting to see if the weather forcast was accurate and the wind would die down. It looks good and there is heat in the sun.

As we are walking down to the Bay we stopped to speak with a man that was laying out astro turf carpeting around what looks like a small tiled swimming pool. I asked him if it was for people or fish. He laughed and said it was originally for 'the kids', but they are all grown up and now it is for the old people in the heat of the summer. Through conversation about our travels he told us that he and his wife had been in New York City on 9/11. They were on a tour bus going to the twin towers when the bus driver advised that a plane had crashed into the tower. He stopped the bus and told them that they would have to get out and find their own way back to their hotel, where they watched the events of that memorable day unfold. We agreed that this was an indication that it had not been 'their time'. They were scheduled to be at the towers in half an hour. Amazing the things you find out stopping to chat on the road.

There were three buses sitting in the terminal. We are opportunists and make our travel decisions on the spot, taking the bus that goes the least frequently. We are going back to Birzebbugia. It is St Paul's Day, a national holiday commemorating St. Paul being shipwrecked in 66BC on what is now known as St Paul's Island. It is said to have been the beginning of Christianity on Malta. The bus schedule runs like a Sunday. The #119 is once an hour. We ride it to the end of the run to Paci, which means 'peace' in Maltese. There is nothing remarkable beyond Birzebbugia. It is a conglomeration of container storage areas. It is also known for its holding area for illegal immigrants that come ashore from North Africa. This issue is something we know little about, but like many first world countries illegal immigration is a controversial challenge for both citizens and governments.

We rode the bus back to Pretty Bay, bought a slice of pizza from the local 'Sphinx' Pastizzeria, and took it with us to the promenade where we ate in the sun and then walked along watching all the container ships being loaded. Bob is taking pictures and I take the opportunity to do a quick sketch in my journal. We are so close to watch how the containers are moved from the dry docks onto the several waiting ships. Even as we watch, one that is fully loaded heads out to sea and another comes in to take it's place.

I love the bays full of all these little 'tenders' that carry the boaters and fishermen back and forth to their bigger boats .

I still feel somewhat in a flux between the places we have seen and experienced when we were in St Paul's Bay and those here in and nearby Marsascala. This area has the ancient history of the traditional Maltese but is more like the small villages on Gozo. I will always feel like I haven't seen all the things I want to see in Malta. The biggest problem now is that it seems we are counting down our remaining days, calculating the groceries and supplies we will need for our last two weeks.

As we ride our mini bus back Bob notices that St Thomas Market is open. We ask our driver to stop and let us out. We walk back and do a shop that could well last us till we leave.... except for bread and milk. He enquires about getting our groceries delivered. And the owner says of course. We put you and your groceries in the van and take you home:) ....and he does ....right to the door. So nice not to have to carry groceries up 'the hill'.

We have an easy dinner of cauliflower, broccoli and carrots, with fresh salami, parmigiana cheese and a little pesto dipping sauce. We are happy to be eating all things fresh and local. For the first time in two days it is quiet outside. No wind, no rain, no thunder or lightning. St Paul may have calmed things down a bit.

Bob has to share the table with all the art supplies:)

Observations:

I don't know what happens to the set up of my paragraphs sometimes. All of a sudden things go awry and I can't fix them. I guess that's what makes this blog mine, not perfect...I don't do perfect. But I can do smart sometimes. Rereading this I just figured out how to fix the margins. Now it could be considered perfect maybe.

Malta has wonderful public toilets, always clean, and even when they seem to be underground, they feel safe.