Strummer in Malta - May 2011

WEEK 1

Adrenaline kicks in within a few moments of my arrival in Malta... not the relief of having my bags arrive safely, and not the prospect of starting a new adventure, but due to a near head on collision with another car at 50mph. My good friend Mark decides it is best to overtake the red sightseeing bus on a blind bend, thus setting the tone for what is to be a boisterous new phase for me (hopefully).

As I sit at Golden Bay calming my nerves, I experience a rapid fluctuation between feeling the serenity of the sea and sunshine- consuming the fruits of my labour, and the panic of now being unemployed in a foreign country trying to work out how I have ended up in this position.

Walking around in Gzira and Sliema, familiarity is clouded in the fact that this is now my home for the time being. I find myself more judgemental of my surroundings. At this stage, I see Malta as a juxtaposition of innovation and dilapidation in close proximity. I wish they would concentrate on refurbishing the existing infrastructure as well as all this new construction. But just as your thoughts stray towards thinking this is an unimpressive place, you turn the corner and there is a view that takes your breath away, whether manmade or natural. Hence, as I have experienced life on a plateau for so long in Crewe, this feeling already justifies my decision to move to make life more exciting.

Bin Laden is dead?

In the village of Mgarr, I wonder how anybody could live a fulfilling life here. It has a few shops and a large church but no signs of any sort of social life. I have to tell myself not to judge a whole country on one of its villages. An injured sparrow draws my attention to my love of animals. I suppose I am missing my cat a little bit and I wonder if it’s reciprocated. Further on I stumble across a heritage site from 3000BC, the Tal Hagrat temple. It is just there within the small residential area. It doesn't seem to be a big deal to anybody, just a piece of 5000 year old history that seems insignificant. Then I start to think these houses are probably hundreds of years old themselves... there is no rush to refurbish anything, so no wonder these temples are preserved. My mind wanders further... if they have the sunshine here then maybe they are not depressed like most of the UK appears to be. Does this mean they don’t feel the need to constantly update their surroundings in order to make things fresh and alleviate stagnation? I'm not sure if that is a ridiculous thought or not. I also notice there is no vandalism... this temple for example could not exist in England without security measures because the youth would not respect it so it would be destroyed. But there is no such thing as a rough estate here. Despite being slightly less developed, in a way it is more civilised. Maybe because it is so small- how would you ever get away with a crime when there is nowhere to escape to? From East to West here is a 30 minute drive, and North to south must only be about 90 minutes.

Nearly everybody understands English here, but having coffee in Ta' Xbiex with one of Mark’s friends who doesn’t- highlights my need to learn the Maltese language so that I can integrate better. There are many things I need to adjust to, but I am still enjoying the newness of my situation. As we go home we get stuck behind a nun for at least 5 minutes as she tries to reverse a minibus into a tight space with another nun helping her; not something I usually see in England. I am instructed not to heckle them like a Brit abroad as they are all trained in martial arts, but I’m confident I could take them. Next, I am reminded of the difficulties of trying to lodge with somebody who is too used to their own company- a situation I have found myself in a few times in the past. I have to be respectful but I can’t let myself become OCD by proxy. My mate is a good and interesting person, but has the same traits as mentioned earlier with regards to the country... randomness and unpredictability that can impress and frustrate in equal measure. The constant element of surprise tends to eat away at my short fuse, whereas obviously I am the perfect tenant.

In the following days, I am left alone in the daytime to scout for work, get my head around unpacking and to explore the locality. Going out alone in a foreign country is daunting at first, so I just need to do it more. I notice small businesses dotted around where you wouldn’t expect them. Nowhere is purely residential and I can see local knowledge is going to be important. Finding local supermarkets, corner shops and “Asia Food Store” makes me feel safer, thus I start to get a good feeling about living here. It is hard not to feel that way when it’s always sunny.

Food is quite expensive here, especially vegetables, so that could be the reason why 74% of the population are overweight. In order to not become one of those I check out the local gyms-Tal-Qroqq, Cynergi and Fortina which all seem quite expensive and packed out. Noble gym is cheaper but lacking in equipment so there is a reason why it is less busy. I have time to mull this over in local bars. Black Gold seems a good one, as well as Portside which seems to be a meeting place for the African community to watch Premiership games. There are a lot of English here though too which again makes me feel safer. However, I hate being in a pub on my own, I feel tense and left out, so I need to make more friends round here. St Julian’s needs to be explored as well as Qawra and anywhere else that can breathe new life into me.

My first interview comes with a small civil engineering company at a well decorated office in Mosta. They show a lot of interest but I have reservations... boring stuff not worth blogging apart from the fact that the wages here are so much lower. It’s hard to get your head around taking a pay cut of the equivalent of over €10K so I am holding out for now to see what lies ahead. Now my head is out of holiday mode and I realise I have to get to grips with the humdrum side of life again. For example, I’ll need a car soon and don’t know where to start looking. One thing at a time...

I stumble across more useful shops in Gzira, best of all being Olimpus Music- the largest music shop on the island right on my doorstep. They have everything I want here once I get my guitar shipped over. I don’t know if this feeling translates to others, but finding a shop like this for a musician is immense excitement and belonging- a feeling of unlimited opportunity. I set my sights on a Laney amplifier for €120 and the manager gives me advice on the local music scene. It turns out Black Gold is a popular venue for bands, so it looks like there is definitely an adventure to be had here. I go back home for wine in the roof garden and get some sun on my horrible leg psoriasis- I have to find a way to bring the mood down somehow.

This weekend starts with a trip to the capital, Valletta. The place has a great character and I am fascinated by its sense of prestige and its history. If only the derelict nightlife could be resurrected this would be an amazing city. There is a festival atmosphere as Valletta FC won the league this season and they are rubbing everybody’s noses in it with banners everywhere, decorated floats and a mobile brass band. It is a great place to eat out (especially Valletta Waterfront) but that is not on the agenda today due to my thrifty mood. They are knocking down the main archway to the city which I am told is a major irritation to locals as the money could be spent on more worthwhile causes i.e. repairing the roads, but the project is a political tactic for the upcoming elections. There is lots of activity and a party atmosphere, good for tourists I suppose but I’m not one of those anymore. There are many points where you get amazing views of the Grand Harbour and the lower lying surroundings. Back to nearby Floriana in the evening where a large crowd has gathered for a fireworks display. I don’t think there is any particular reason for the display, but it is impressive all the same. Driving around the nightlife on the way home, I get the feeling I am not part of it yet and have itchy feet.

The next day I am at a medieval festival in Mdina, starting with a tour of the dungeons and torture chambers. This is another great city to visit in the daytime, picturesque and historical with its narrow winding streets and medieval architecture. It is bustling with food stalls, museums, shows... There is a display of mock sword fighting which I’ve seen in England and always seems a bit nerdy, but here it doesn’t feel like that. Maybe I am just not in such a sceptical mood because everything is new. While avoiding the birds of prey that are flying around everywhere, I give in on the healthy eating and stuff my face with pies and a fried rice ball with chicken inside called arancini. Again, as this was a fortress city built on high ground, there are places you can stop where you can see across the whole of Malta. The only downside I feel when I leave is that because these towns are fairly small, you feel like you’ve seen everything and there is no point coming back for a while. I think the locals feel like that about the country in general. Afterwards, on to Ta’ Qali market, which is really just selling jumble sale tat... We stop to speak to a mate of Mark’s from his work at Prison Fellowship Malta... he seems pleasant enough until after when I am told he did time for strangling an old lady.





WEEK 2

I am starting to feel more organised. The interviewer from last week calls and seems keen to pin me down on a 5 year contract with low pay. I'm side stepping that one. I have two more interviews today. The first one is in Burmarrad, another quiet village, and it is for a job I have no experience in, so it doesn’t take us long to conclude that I am not suitable. At least it’s a chance to discuss frankly about wages... I am told I should still expect a €5 - €10K reduction from UK salaries. They say the cost of living is less, but I don’t see how. House and petrol prices are the same and food is more expensive. People seem to work harder for more hours and less pay. I have to keep telling myself I didn't come for the money, I’m here to de-stress myself... So the second interview is in Valletta, and is to be my first trip alone outside my neighbourhood. The buses are fairly mental, always packed out and feels like an earthquake is happening. I find my way to the office with half an hour spare for meandering. The band is still parading around the city with songs mocking the runners up in the football league. This interview is much better and there is mutual interest. Though I’d still prefer to be doing something more exciting to me than structural engineering, I have to get my feet on the ground for now. Afterwards, my sense of achievement prompts me to stand outside McDonald’s for a few seconds before deciding not to have a €6 Big Mac Mediterranean meal. They are upgrading the public transport system at the moment and I eventually find the right bus home amongst the chaos.

I’d already had about 10 interviews in Malta since November on previous visits. Now I am hopeful that I have narrowed down two companies where I want to work, and who will offer me a position. However, I continue to attend all interviews that come up in order to have back up plans. The next is at a road engineering company, which is not what I do, and they want to send me to Gozo. The interview is held at the director’s house and there is a little girl screaming “daddy daddy daddy” as I’m trying to give an account of my experience on past projects and pretend this is normal. It reminds me of a similar interview I once had in the middle of a noisy playground at Naxxar. So there’s another one crossed off the list. My friend picks me up and we go home via the post office. A conversation starts up between the people queuing where I can’t tell what they are saying but it seems odd when they all start chipping in. Shouldn’t they all be uptight, looking down at their shoes and horrified that a stranger has dared to speak in a quiet public place? But no, they don't seem to have social awkwardness here, which is a good thing. Also I randomly notice that there aren't many flies around despite the heat.

I am forced to watch the Eurovision semi final, where Malta don’t get through, but neither do Norway and they had the best song. I am still trying to gauge what the preferred styles of music are around here, and figure out the lifestyle in general. The mood swings that I had in England haven't disappeared and I have cycles of becoming disinterested in things and feeling flat, then feeling excited and hopeful again. I am putting it down to pressure from the interviews, being restless and unsettled, and not getting enough sleep. I need to choose the right gym to join and to get involved with bands, football, and social activity as soon as I can. Other chores are tying me down though, e.g. writing this, which defeats the object a bit I think. I do get an encouraging call from Transport Malta about the coastal job I want in Birzebbuga, and meanwhile there is a whole country to explore so there is no real excuse for being miserable at any point. I still get a whisper in my ear everytime I leave the house asking me what the hell am I doing in a foreign country, but I quite like that.

The next outing is a drive south to Marsascala. There is nothing much to see, mostly run down residential areas, synonymous with small suburbs of north west UK cities. But it looks nothing like England so that’s a bad analogy, apart from the fact that there is no way to entertain yourself around here and it feels a bit small-time. I am definitely happy with the location of Gzira where I am staying and as it stands I’m feeling full of potential again.

In Qawra, it feels more like an English coastal town, though the sun and palm trees certainly add something more. However, once you have looked at the souvenir shops and stopped at a cafe, there is not really anything left to do. It seems to be a haven for 50 – 65 year olds to vegetate on the beach with fake sand and say "isn’t it nice here". I’m glad Malta isn’t a place for lads' holidays and stag weekends, but at times a part of me wishes it was like that. Perhaps I’ve got it wrong, this is only a Thursday afternoon after all. This place just feels like it’s missing something and there should be more atmosphere. If I am ever going to be impressed by a place I need activities such as beach sports, with music and crowds gathering to watch events. Perhaps Mellieha Bay will be a better place for that kind of thing. Here, the only stimulation seems to be to walk along the rocky front or to eat and drink. This could be another indication for the problem of obesity here- there is nothing to do for locals when they go out other than to eat. I set myself a mission of answering 1) why everyone is overweight and 2) why there is no violence. Before returning home, I stop for a spectacular apple sorbet and to watch an outdoor pub game called bocci, which is a bit like boule and I have visions of becoming a local champion at it. On the way home I look back on Qawra as a good place after all and will definitely be back to see what the nightlife is like.

Evenings are slow for me due to my unemployed status which allows me to enjoy the daytimes so much. Once I find work, it is inevitable that I’ll be moaning about this situation in reverse. The only noticeable thing tonight is that Eastenders is a month behind and between each scene it doesn’t cut immediately, it fades out, which looks weird.

A quiet but pleasant weekend follows, starting with a visit to San Anton gardens... There are busy arrangements of flowers and trees with the odd peacock scurrying around. The place is also inhabited by wild cats, as are most public places, but they are not a nuisance. A turtle has made its way onto the edge of the pond area and as I tap softly on its shell it squirts urine at me and jumps back in. I’m wondering if this is normal and whether I deserved it or not. Back home past Zmerc which is a great little bar for Monday karaoke nights, and through Birkirkara, the largest town, but another where nothing seems to happen, apart from street markets. A midnight stroll in shorts and sandals through the Gzira / Tal Qroqq area renews that feeling I got whenever I have been abroad in the past- content to be somewhere new and unexplored. As I’ve noted before, there is no threat of violence, no gangs of youths and no hint of crime.

Blue don’t win eurovision for the UK, but the terrible songs inspire me to get back into songwriting to justify my scathing analysis of everybody else’s. I am definitely missing my guitars.

I spend more hours on a local rocky beach to get tanned so that I can trick people into thinking maybe I’m local. I get bored sunbathing though, as my mind ticks over too much for me to do nothing for more than 10 minutes, so I create stress to occupy my mind. Being jeered at by some adolescents doesn’t help and I have to control the urge to go over to them. It looks like they do have scrotes over here after all, and also it seems I still have a lot of aggression hiding inside me. But what is to be gained by punching a stranger? Sometimes everything around me gets on my nerves and I have to go for a walk alone to calm down and stop myself taking it out on the person that is putting a roof over my head. As most shops do not open on a Sunday, at last I give in and end up at McDonalds. I now have the excuse of self pity and the fact that I finally joined a gym. I chose the cheapest option- Noble gym for 3 months at €72 and it is great to get back into a training routine. No doubt exercise increases the dopamine levels and releases all the demons for a while.

 

WEEK 3

A second interview follows at the small office in Valletta. He is very interested but comes up with an excuse to pay me less- that my degree is not compatible with Maltese construction law so I can’t sign off my own designs. Therefore I find myself in a tough situation where I am being pushed to make a decision between this job and the one I really want at Transport Malta which is a much better salary. But I could lose out on both if I am not successful at TM and if they take ages to decide it. I suppose it’s a good problem to have, and I figure it is worth the risk to hold out for the better wage as my general outlook is always to make more out of my life than what I currently have.

Meanwhile, I approach the YMCA in Valletta who I notice are offering guitar lessons and I am invited to get involved with the teaching. Hopefully I will follow it up and not convince myself, as I usually do with these things, that it would be awkward or a waste of time. Other activities of the day include getting my head around tax & national insurance and discovering quinoa.

I am disgusted by a huge semi-alive cockroach in the flat with long antlers, so I escape with a trip to St Julian’s. The first thing I notice as I look for a healthy dinner is that no shops sell sandwiches. The only options seem to be greasy pastizzerias which I need to avoid. Eventually I find a sandwich bar called Luke’s on the steps near all the gentleman's clubs. I keep a note of all the other bars and restaurants I’d like to visit in future, mainly Piazza Cascata. I notice some lads acting the fool on a stag do and I immediately think “nobheads”, but then I realise it’s a good sign that a more lively atmosphere does exist on this island after all. Further on, amongst the ubiquity of souvenir shops and construction works, I discover various live music venues, thai massage, and a strange chill out area with fruit tobacco pipes which doesn’t actually seem to be under the ownership of anybody.

As far as I can tell, the area of Paceville within St Julian's is really the only place for proper nightlife. It has a good vibe even in the daytime and I don’t really have any scathing comments for once. Before I leave, I wander around the outskirts and come across this peaceful open chapel. I’m not religious but I do believe there has to be a God, and such places give me a feeling of calmness. On the bus back, it hits me that there isn’t really anywhere else left to explore now. Obviously, I haven’t seen it all, but there are no towns or attractions left that I feel I want to go and visit by myself, so now I must create my own adventures. I get confirmation that the cockroach has been ejected, and am told you see them frequently in summer, so I’ll look forward to that.

This weekend starts with an impromptu visit to a podologist in Valletta, who ends up ripping half a dead toenail from my big toe. This is one of the worst things that can happen to me in terms of being squeamish about pain. I calm down in Cafe Jubilee where I get jealous of the acoustic duo that are playing as I want to be up there myself... The next morning I am woken by the chavs in the flat below having an argument at 7:30. Without thinking I open the door and shout for them to shut up, which they do, but then I feel like I may have been a bit brash and I should remember that I'm the foreigner. I go for a walk round Gzira and discover more new shops, but I start to feel lethargic and unable to find any excitement from my surroundings. Maybe this is just a trait in me and will happen wherever I live. In my defence, this is the first time the weather has been “bad”, as in it’s a bit cloudy and windy, but still good for shorts and T-shirt. The gym revitalises me and I get talking to people I've met. Interaction is what I need to lift me out of these moods. However, the lack of funds prevents me from going out this Saturday night and instead, my mate’s friend, an ex-boxing instructor, pops in to kindly show me how phyically underdeveloped I am.

I keep having dreams involving scenarios of just before I left England... I find myself too busy at the last minute to do all my packing before the flight. Who knows what that means. What I do know is that I’m fed up of the talks on the radio about the upcoming referendum... “Iva... Le... Ghaliex?”... voting yes or no on whether to introduce divorce. The Philippines and Vatican City are the only other countries who don’t have divorce, so I suppose this makes Malta sound backward and reinforces the jokes from friends asking if they have running water here etc... That is of course an ignorant way to view the country. I am very happy to be here, but having money will be the catalyst for better stimulation. We go for a drive in a random direction, ending up at the coastal construction site where I “want to work” at the south east of the island. On to Marsaxlokk- a pretty harbour town with a market and a few cafes. The problem is, similar to with Qawra, you’ve seen it all within half an hour and you are thinking what can you do next... I don’t understand why there isn’t more to do here, but I can’t necessarily think what that would be.

WEEK 4

I want to start feeling like I’m moving forward instead of wasting so much time in the flat on the internet. I dread starting work, though probably my mind needs it as I am thinking and writing too much about things that are not interesting. But the problem remains that I find myself stuck for new places to go. I look on a map and after only 3 weeks and a few past holidays, I can’t see anywhere I haven’t been to at least twice. I can see the potential to get frustrated here until I get involved with bands, gym, meeting people, work... and I keep having silly irritable mood swings. I think I’m over sensitive at times, but my mate is not helping when he either behaves like a mute or constantly interrupts me, never anything in between. Also, despite being a teacher, he refuses to teach me any of the language, but then blasts me for not practising my (limited) Maltese with people. I find it annoying to be around somebody who you never quite feel is listening to you, but maybe that points to a problem in me. Who knows... it all comes back to the fact that I think too much. To escape, I do some exploring at Dingli cliffs... a perfect place to look at the stars on a clear night, but in the day there is an equally spectacular view. I climb down to find a steep path on the cliff face with large hollows carved into the rock. I imagine making a den here and getting drunk with someone, watching the sunset or whatever. The problem is then you’d have to drive home, but that doesn't seem to be as much of a taboo over here (not that I'm planning to do it).

During one of my hangover days, I am compelled to visit Chick King- a fast food restaurant which is really bad and over priced. I pay €4.50 for 2 pieces of chicken and chips, no drink, the place is dirty, and the chicken tastes rancid, though you do get it served on a plate. Alcohol is an enemy in many ways- to mental health, fitness and finances. Inevitably the whole of the next day is wasted and the perpetual cycle reaches the stage where I contemplate doing without drink altogether, then moves on to the next phase where it seems like a good idea again. Having said that, I am not a big drinker these days by any means, so I could easily cut it out. Summer is nearly here and I am fed up at not being proud of my own body. I have to stop the little chocolate binges too, so I scour Pavi supermarket in Qormi for cheap lean protein. I notice when they want to make out a certain food product is posh, they call it Sicilian... e.g. finest Sicilian tripe... synonymous to English supermarkets selling the finest cream from Guernsey or something like that, as if it’s better quality just because it comes from a remote place.

As I sit at the bus stop in the morning, gathering my nerves for an important job interview, I have a feeling a car accident could happen as it all looks a bit mad on the roads. Then a few seconds later there is one... my eyes even latch on to the driver of the scooter before he is hit hard from behind, accompanied by a loud crunch. He goes up the car bonnet then gets dumped on the road, accompanied by loud gasps from everyone around me. I get up straight away and I want to go over but there are plenty of people already helping. I feel reserved as if it’s not my place to go and help because it’s not my country- a regrettable attitude in hindsight. The man is getting on a bit, but must be as hard as nails as he gets up and runs after his bike and the situation slowly resolves itself, unlike the sheepish look on the young driver’s face.

Stood in the aisle of the packed bus, the noise of the impact rattles around in my head, but I get to the interview with time to spare and collect myself. It goes well and they hint to me that I’ve got the job if I want it, which is a great relief as it’s the best option by far in terms of salary and my past experience on coastal construction sites. Afterwards, I am released to roam around Valletta again. I love this feeling of freedom, as if just finished an exam and there is no need to feel guilty about not being productive with my time. I hunt for pastizzi amongst all the tourists in the blistering heat and feel satisfied that I live in a place where people would want to come for a holiday.

Just before the weekend, I work out that I’ve lost €50 cash somehow (how is a whole new conspiracy story in itself). Now losing money is something I never do and it really hacks me off. I go for a late walk to cool off but I end up getting lost amongst the residential grid patterns and I emerge onto the seafront near St Julian's, miles away from where I thought I was. So that doesn't help then, although the exercise is welcome. This feeling stays with me all weekend despite trying to blank it out with house chores, workouts, films, watching Man U get stuffed by Barcelona in the champions league final, and discovering a documentary about Kymatica - suggesting a whole different way to look at life which I identify with.

Malta vote yes for divorce in the referendum, which, after being irritated by all the debates recently, I see is a huge landmark for the country. Now the law and the church are separate and being an atheist I have to say that is a sensible thing. Other than that, I feel too uneducated about religion and politics to make any further comments. I am just a scientist and a musician (a bit like Professor Brian Cox).