Spring has arrived in Malta and I am into barefoot mode. The sun in the mornings has moved round enough to shine on my front windows for a few hours and the warmth wakes me up like a hibernating tortoise. But it also means that I can't read the screen on my laptop where it is set up by the window. I have to put a sun hat on to stop my glasses going too dark!
To really be at home somewhere, you have to spend several seasons there and learn to deal with the different conditions. Last week was windy and I just had my back courtyard windows open. On Wednesday afternoon when I got back from my lace class in Marsaxlokk, I called round to my neighbour to give her some old magazines from the newspaper. We chatted about her grandsons. The wind blew the door shut. We both stared in complete silence as we contemplated the implications of being outside the door in my socks (it was still cool then) without a key. This eventuality had crossed my mind before and I thought I must do something in preparation but of course I hadn't taken any action. We dismissed some of the wilder solutions like abseiling down from the roof. Solutions from another world such as phoning a locksmith were dismissed by my neighbour. It seems that in Malta, locksmiths don't sit on the phone in the afternoons waiting for distress calls from old ladies. In the end, my neighbour woke up her husband who was having his afternoon nap and he spent an hour and a half forcing my lock. My door now looks bedraggled but I can still lock it by turning the bolt into the top and bottom of the door rather than into the side which is stuffed. I have learnt always to have a key with me if I poke my head out of the door and I will make arrangements for a spare key to be left somewhere.
The photo is of a front door in Birkirkara that is completely covered in squashed Heineken beer cans. I may have to find a similar solution for my front door.
Last night the International Fireworks festival started on Grand Harbour. I watched from the roof. Like band clubs, fireworks in Malta are competitive. The fireworks are made at local village factories by volunteers and every year someone is killed in an explosion somewhere. At the festival, the displays are set up on barges moored off Kalkara. There were five of them last night with at least one overseas guest display. Everyone gathered along the bastions or came in boats to watch. I have never seen fireworks so close up and it was stunning. I took up a glass of wine and felt my brain exploding with the noise, the bursting patterns of light and the smoke. After the second barge finished, I noticed flame starting in the stern and sure enough, there was a long pause in proceedings as small boats investigated and a tug was dispatched to pump water onto the blaze.
Today the lift is out of action again. Last night, my neighbour's daughter got stuck in it. Awful thought that I will have to deal with!
1 comment:
Hi Jo, I really enjoyed this blog. Especially the way you connect all the threads to make a whole. Loved the picture, as usual. And your perceptive comments. My next blog is on the history of lacemaking on Burano. I'll be interested in your comments on lacemaking in Malta, when and if you have time. I never knew anything about this particular craft until my Venice trip.
Post a Comment