Things you notice in Malta

 

There are some things that strike you about this particular Mediterranean island that are different from other Mediterranean islands. One of them is the pic at the top, but it is far from the only one. 

Like most islands in the Med, Malta has changed hands several times over the millennia. The place we went yesterday, Xlendi, is popular with divers partly because it has a Phonecian shipwreck on its reef. The wreck dates from 700BC!

But phonecians were followed by Carthaginians, Persians for a bit, then Romans, Byzantines, Aghlabids, Sicilians etc etc. But for the last 200-ish years before independence, Malta was a British colony and it shows. 

The phone boxes are red, of course. The tea is probably very good but we haven't actually tried any because we brought our own tea bags after the horror that was Sicilian tea bags. We brought plug adaptors then discovered that all the plugs look like this:

Also, after a slight amount of confusion, I realised that, yes, they drive on the left here. So Brits on holiday have an easy time, but Italians coming over on the ferry have their steering wheels on the wrong side as they negotiate the hair-raising narrow streets. I have noticed hardly any SUVs at all (hurrah!) thanks to the same narrow streets.

I was also charmed to notice this police station in Nadur, where we are staying. It has a Dixon of Dock Green lantern and then a traditional Maltese/Arabic balcony above (with window props to let in the air in the hottest months).

Also we went for a drink in a random bar in Valetta and it turned out we were drinking in the local British Legion club (and I'd been in the Woodbridge BL club two days earlier)

There are a couple of downsides to this Brit-ish influence. For a start ,there are rather a lot of passive-aggressive signs warning about cleaning up your dog poo and not making noise to disturb the neighbours. Also, Malta's obesity rates are double those of its Mediterranean neighbours because the diet seems to prefer pasties and pies over healthy salad and fish. 

And, most shocking for me, when I went, as usual to find a trad local cafe on our first morning, I immediately spotted on in the square with trestle tables and old guys chatting in strong local language. But when I ordered the coffee I realised to my Sicilian-fed horror that there was no espresso machine and she was spooning Nescafé into the glass.

Oh Britannia, what a price your colonialism has exacted!