Malta to Istanbul
Malta
29 January
“Movement Sociale”
In
any other language a “Movement Sociale” could be a very good
thing - a social club, a continuous party? One can only imagine the
full set of possibilities! But malheureusement, (sadly) – we are
still thinking in French!, roughly translated, it means STRIKE! Oh
yes, the very day that had to drag our 60kgs (and Paul NEVER
exaggerates) of luggage across Paris on the Metro and RER (Regional
Rail), was the one that the workers of the Paris public transport
system chose to 'take to the barricades'.
Some
trains were running and we had made good progress, reaching the
enormous Gare du Nord in very reasonable time for the second of three
connections we had to make to get to southern outskirts of Paris and
Orly Airport. The station was alarmingly quiet for a peak hour
Thursday? Yep. All trains to the south of the city had been
cancelled. So, along with 10 million Parisians, we sought an
alternative. Luckily we had considered a bus option the previous day,
so off we traipsed with our 60 kgs of luggage.
To
cut a long story short, we made the plane in good time and tonight we
are settled into a 16th century apartment in the very centre of the
old city of Valletta.
It's
very early in our stay, but so far we love it! Not just because
everything is half the price of mainland Europe, but also because
the city is a living museum. We are in a back street, two blocks from
the tourist area. The bakery is next door, the corner shop seems to
have most stuff we need, but it is like shops in Australia were when
we were very little kids – apart from its tendency to disappear
behind closed doors! You have to ask at the counter for what you
want. Stuff is stacked all over the place and the locals seem to go
there for a chat as much as to buy dinner.
Language
is no problem in Malta. Maltese is spoken amongst the locals,
sounding like a mix of Arabic, Italian and Spanish, with bits of
English thrown in. However, as a result of their history, they all
speak good English as well. Too easy.
31 January
Being Maltese
For
an island that one could drive across in less than 30 minutes and
drive the length of in 40 minutes, Malta has had a significant
influence on European history – or has European history had a major
influence on Maltese history?
Malta
has always been at the cross-roads of the Mediterranean, the local
language having its roots in Phoenician, the ancient language of
Carthage. However, its size, combined with its strategic position,
has meant that it has always been more of a 'host' to the great
events of the world than an actual player and never more so than in
“its greatest hour”- the Siege of Malta during the Second World
War.
In
1940, Malta effectively became a British 'Aircraft Carrier' in the
mid-Mediterranean. This tiny island and its people held out for more
than 3 years against all that the Germans and Italians could throw at
them. And throw they did – more than 3000 sorties – more than
those recorded in London during the Blitz! The physical destruction
of the island was almost total.
Today,
we visited one of the few remaining air-raid shelters from that
period. The soft rock of Malta allowed the Maltese to build very
effective shelters more than 40 metres beneath the surface and, as a
result, very few (relatively) civilians died during those raids.
Now
mostly rebuilt , the harbour areas of the 'Three Cities' (medieval
villages situated on the other side of the Great Harbour from
Valletta) that we wandered through, on a very warm and sunny day,
were just spectacular. The local stone has a cream colour that turns
golden in the winter sun. Fantastic!
So
being Maltese?
As
Australians, we know many Maltese people at home. The story is that
there are more Maltese in Australia than in Malta (probably true). At
home, they are much the same as anybody else. In Malta, the 'real'
Maltese are something a little different. They live in a modern
European country, they have all the trappings that go with that -
Cable TV, Internet - the lot ...
but
...
Somehow,
the country is frozen in a bit of a time warp. Supermarkets are
almost non-existent – as far as we can tell from the info
pamphlets, there is ONE on the whole of Malta! The local shop is
where you buy your daily needs, IF it happens to be open. If it's not
and the doors are closed, there is nothing to show that it even
exists – very Brigadoon! There is no train system, no Metro, just a
(very efficient) bus network that uses vintage buses, some as old as
the 1950s. The capital, Valletta, is not a real city at all. It is a
group of inter-connected villages where people know each other, chat
on the street and carry on life much as they did 50 years ago, at
least in mid winter. Things are definitely more hectic 'in season',
but now... this is heaven! Yet another reason for travelling in
Europe 'off season'.
A
good indicator of the Maltese view of the world can be found in the
bus timetable. Local buses leave from a large, seemingly chaotic,
square in front of the Valletta city gates. The published timetable
is well designed and printed in a neat, glossy brochure. However, we
were puzzled by the departure frequency information that was printed
as “ 5/15/30 minutes”. Did it mean that the bus left on the 5
minutes, 15 minutes and half hour? Surely not. What, no buses for the
second half of the hour? No. Could it mean different frequencies for
different seasons? No. There were no time spans for the seasons in
the brochure. Confounded, we asked at the Tourist Information Office.
Looking at us as though WE were stupid, the girl explained that buses
will leave at 5 minute intervals if the driver feels there is enough
demand, 15 minutes if there are just a few people and 30 minutes even
if nobody is at the terminus! How simple. Why didn't we think of
that!!?
On
our return from the Three Cities today, we jumped on the bus that was
waiting at the bus stop, only to be told that this bus wasn't leaving
now and there was one coming soon. Everybody arriving at the stop got
the same story and happily stood and waited for the other bus. We
suspect the driver was just having his lunch. All part of like in
Malta.
1 February
Getting in the rhythm
Under
our apartment, the baker started work late today – it was Sunday!
7:00 am is a late start for him. Every other day he kicks off at
4:00am. The smell of fresh bread hits us about 6:00 as we have
drifted off to sleep again once his dough machines have stopped.
We
love this place! Weather is great, prices are reasonable - nothing
is cheap in Europe any more - and, without being condescending, Malta
is just so 'quaint'.
Waiting
for a bus in the square this morning, an elderly gentleman almost
pushed us onto the right bus, gave us a timetable and wished us well.
We actually knew which bus to catch and already had a timetable, but
it would have destroyed him if he couldn't have helped us!
Maybe
it's the lack of a language problem, or just the easy flow of off
season life in Malta, but we seem to be getting into the swing of
Maltese life. The fact that the route numbers on the front of buses
are often different to those on the back and buses leave when the
driver is ready, just doesn't matter anymore...
Today,
with our usual efficiency, we saw all we need to see in the beautiful
little walled town of Mdina and its surrounding villages of Rabat and
Mtarfa, had lunch and were back in Valletta by 1:30pm, just in time
to take in a movie at the local 'multi-plex'. Now, when was the last
time you went to a movie that had Intermission? 1960? Well in Malta
they still 'do' Intermission. How fantastic!
We
have also discovered that they have football clubs and social clubs,
with cheap food and drinks, much like at home. We'll try one in the
next couple of days.
2nd February
Random Russian Girls
There
we were, walking down a country road between Xaghra and Xewkija, when
it hit us! We WERE on the tiny island of Gozo in the Mediterranean,
wandering down a country road on a warm, but windy, afternoon to
catch a vintage local bus back to the ferry to take us back to the
main island of Malta - a place we had never imagined we would visit.
What were the idle rich doing, we thought?
Until
we started to think about going to Malta, we had never heard of Gozo.
We are sure nobody has heard of the villages of Xaghra and Xewkija.
(Have you?) Many of the places we have found ourselves in were never
in our plans (for all sorts of reasons).
The
day had been fair
An
added, and very Maltese, event that brightened our day, was a free
trip on one of the vintage local Gozo buses.
Wandering
around the Victoria bus terminal on Gozo, which is about as big as a
petrol station, we spotted a very old and beautifully maintained
Bedford bus, circa 1960. While we were oohing and aahing at it, the
driver came along and asked us, and a very confused Russian girl, who
happened to be walking by, to take a seat while we waited for our bus
that wasn't due for about 20 minutes.
Before
we knew it, we were all off on a free ride on his bus to the small
village of Xlendi and back. Admittedly, we were a bit concerned, the
random Russian girl more so, that we would all miss our bus to Xaghra
(see above). We shouldn't have worried. At precisely 30 seconds
before our bus was due to leave, we chugged back into the terminal
square and jumped the #62 to Xaghra. And the 'random/confused'
Russian girl? Last time we saw her, she was trying to work out the
ticket scanner at the temples of Ggantija at (Yes - you guessed it!)
Xaghra.
We,
on the other hand, strolled off to the country road towards Xewkija
and the ferry back to the “Big Island” of Malta.
3 February
Nasty shadows of development
Just
across the Grand Harbour from Valletta is the modern city of Sliema.
Most of old Sliema has disappeared, some as a result of the war time
bombing of the harbour area, but more through the sort of waterfront
development that lines the Mediterranean from Gaza to Gibraltar.
Every area of the coast seems to have its own particular 'invader
nation'. On the Moroccan coast, it's France, for much of Spain and
Portugal it's Germany and the UK. Here, the British alone seem to
dominate. And why not? Beachfront apartments here are plentiful and
relatively cheap. English is universally spoken and the waterfront
kiosks serve fish and chips.
For
Malta, this 'invasion' is probably fairly welcome. They have a good
relationship with the British people and there are strong historical
links. For us as visitors though, modern Sliema held little interest.
Retired Brits filled the streets, most of the old charm of the city
has been lost amidst new beach 'condos' and the character that makes
the rest of Malta so attractive is all but gone. So we did what one
does at the 'beach' - we had an ice-cream, walked the promenade and
then caught the ferry back to beautiful, old, character-filled
Valletta.
The
forecast maximum temperature tomorrow, for our last day in Malta, is
20C! At the moment, London is snowed in, with temperatures of -5C.
Little wonder the Brits who can escape come here!
4 February
Good-bye Malta
For
probably the first time in four and a half months, we did nothing
today..
Well,
almost nothing!
We
walked around half of the peninsula on which the city of Valletta is
situated, having walked the other half a few days back. We watched
and heard the mid-day cannon salute at the Saluting Battery, walked
up and down Republica, the main street, and watched the “tourists”
- there was a cruise ship in town. We went to the Malta
Archaeological Museum, had lunch in a little back street cafe and did
a guided tour of the magnificent 18th
Century Manoel Theatre, earning the undying love of a British couple
who, on a previous visit to Valletta, had waited an hour, only to be
told that, because the minimum number of people had not been reached,
they couldn't take the tour. With them and another British couple who
were just walking by we made up the minimum.
It
was such a beautiful day 20+C – what else could we do but take it
easy? - And besides we have to be up at 3:00 am to catch our plane to
Istanbul in the morning!
Bye,
Malta. We have loved you!
Istanbul
6 February
What a difference 8 years make!
Calls
to prayers echo from a thousand minarets just on sunset over Galata
Hill as we listen and watch from our balcony. Last time we were in
Turkey was 8 years ago. The sound of the call to prayers is still a
powerful memory.
Yesterday
we managed to get ourselves to Malta airport by 4:45am for the 6:45am
flight to Istanbul – although it seems like days ago now! After a
bit of a mix-up about the pick-up arrangements at the airport (the
driver was late) we headed off, at speed, through this city of more
than 13 million people.
Our
memories of our last visit were of dirty crowded streets, frantic,
unregulated traffic, goats on the road and all the other trappings of
an over-crowded 3rd
world city. It was an exciting and very different place for us!
Was
this the same place?
Slick
airport, uncrowded motorway to the city, motorists keeping to their
lanes, flowers thick on the median strips and block after block of
new housing developments set in parklands; was this Istanbul?
In
short – yes and no. Many parts of the city are new or renovated.
Traffic is much better controlled, streets are clean and systems and
services seem to work. There is no rubbish on the streets anymore.
Dusty lanes are now paved and regularly washed down. (The city is
cleaner in fact than Paris!) All this is very different. The people,
though, are much the same. There are always enormous crowds in the
streets. People are uniformly friendly and happy.
Today,
after we did a few touristy things, we went looking for the old
Istanbul that we remembered. After searching through streets lined
with banks and modern offices, we eventually found it (sort of). In
the back lanes behind the New Mosque near the Galata bridge, we came
upon the garment district and the spice market. Narrow streets packed
with people, noise, smells – just as we remembered - but now, oh
so clean. Glass shop fronts are replacing the roller shutters –
very clean glass at that – streets are all paved, with not a paper
or a cigarette butt in sight. The excitement of the crowds built as
we walked through these streets down to the ferry docks under the
Galata bridge. Hundreds of thousands of people teemed through the
streets on this mild and sunny Friday afternoon as packed ferries
came and went at a rate that would make Sydney's Circular Quay look
like a sleepy Murray River town.
Our
apartment in Galata, the newer part of Istanbul, is within walking
distance of the old city. And it's the richer part. Streets around
here are lined with all the big name fashion shops and the usual crop
of western franchises. Strict Muslim dress is rare, almost
non-existent here. Everybody under 30 could have walked off the
street in any major city in the world.
What
a difference almost a decade makes!
8 February
Yes, we probably are adventurous.
The
Bosphorus is the first link between the Black Sea and the
Mediterranean. Further down stream is the Dardanelles, famous seaways
in both war and peace.
Apparently,
quaint fishing villages line the Bosphorus.
Apparently?
We
took a ferry from central Istanbul up the Bosphorus in our quest to
find the old Turkey. For mile after mile along the Bosphorus, all we
could see were multi-storey modern residential blocks and
multi-million dollar houses. The seafront on both the Asian and
European side comprised walkways and parkland , dotted with
children's playgrounds. Very Sydney North Shore! But we plodded on to
the 'quaint' fishing 'village' of Sariyer. Our plan was to walk
around the village, check out some of the old wooden Ottoman houses,
have a 'quaint village' lunch and catch the local bus back for the 20
km trip back to Istanbul.
On
the ferry, we met an Australian couple about our age who were a bit
stunned at the way we had been, and were, travelling. They thought
our plan for the day was fairly adventurous. What - catch a local
bus? We don't think much about how we get about these days. We get
lost. We get confused, but we have some fantastic experiences on the
way and we always find our way home.
Adventurous?
Maybe, but it's the way we like to travel – not too down and
dirty, but making contact with the locals on some level.
As
to the quaint fishing village? It was a bit of a disappointment.
After some searching in the back streets, we did find some old wooden
houses of Ottoman vintage, but on the whole the 'quaint village' had
turned into a modern outer suburban shopping strip with the added
attraction of a flash fishing quay and some nice seafood restaurants.
The
bus trip back to town took the best part of two hours along the
shores of the Bosphorus, past million dollar yachts and hundreds of
fishermen trying their luck with long rods off the neatly-paved and
well-manicured shores of outer suburban Istanbul.
But
was it adventurous? Once it might have been, but today it was just
another suburban bus ride through some very well-heeled areas of this
enormous city. Never mind, we have found some old parts of the
central city that we will revisit over the next few days.
12 February
How “Bazaar”!
Leaving
Istanbul today, we had another early start for the medium haul trip
to London. Our driver was late (as usual) and the roads were very wet
so it was a wet and, therefore, scary drive. But, having driven
ourselves in some fairly hairy situations, we weren't as fazed as we
would have been 5 months ago.
Istanbul
was great, but not as exciting as it was first time round. We
probably should have expected Istanbul to change, but not this much!
After our attempt to find the old Istanbul on the Bosphorus ferry
trip, we just gave up and went with the flow for a couple of days,
playing tourist at the usual sights, Topkapi Palace, the Grand Bazaar
and the Turkish Military Museum, all great 'attractions' and
definitely not to be missed. The Military Museum was new to us. It
was huge, covering several hundred years of Ottoman and Turkish
military history. Political correctness has not yet impacted on the
Turkish Military. Old enemies and new are treated with disdain while
all Turks who die in battle are Martyrs. Still, this was a great
museum AND we had the whole place fairly much to ourselves.
After
our long exploration of the glories of Turkish military victories
(and defeats) we decided to use up the remainder of our transport
passes by jumping the metro to an 'outer' suburb to see if there were
any remnants of the 'old Istanbul' to be found there. Of course not!
Suburban Istanbul has also 'grown-up'.
Now,
through the magic of modern transport, we have flashed across Europe
from East to West in time for lunch in London. Back in the familiar
world that most Aussie tourists feel at home with, we are approaching
the end of our odyssey, staying a night in the apartment of our
cousin, Alys.
Tomorrow,
off to Edinburgh.
Comments
Post a Comment