For my third and final post on Malta in World War II, I’ll relate a little of the horrendous living conditions in wartime Malta.  A list of the sources I used can be found at the bottom of this post.
As previously discussed, Malta’s location in the Mediterranean made it strategically important to both the Allies and the Axis.  Malta was heavily bombed, first by the Italians, then the Germans, throughout 1940 - 1942.  In April 1942 for example, Malta was on air raid alert for a total of 12 days, 10 hours, and 20 minutes.  Some 3,359 bombers strafed the island, dropping 6, 727 bombs and killing 339 civilians and208 servicemen (Mgarr shelter information).  And that’s just one month - multiply those statistics over the span of several years and the numbers become staggering!  In fact, in the first six months of 1942, there was only one 24-hour period without air raids. Luftwaffe records indicate that between 20 March and 28 April 1942, Malta was subjected to 11,819 sorties and 6,557 tonnes of bombs.

To protect themselves, the Maltese hand-dug air raid shelters throughout the island, often extending the work of the Knights of St. John under the thick, fortified city walls.  The Maltese had one break on this rocky little island:  the limestone of Malta is said to be soft when first cut, then it hardens when exposed to air.  Without this happy property of the stone, the shelter system created would not have been nearly as extensive, and there likely would have been a far greater number of casualties.

One source notes that during the war in the Three Cities, an area surrounding Malta’s Grand Harbour, about 70% of the buildings were too damaged by bombs to be habitable.  The story was much the same all around the island, at any location the Axis deemed to be strategically important in weakening Malta’s defenses.  This meant that thousands of Maltese were forced to live constantly in the shelters, and thousands more would find refuge there at night after making their way home from trying to eke  out a living during the day.

When you tour these shelters, the vast network of narrow stone tunnels is claustrophobic and confusing, even with electric lighting and plenty of fresh air flowing through.  Imagine the conditions during war, with shortages of food and water, inadequate sewage, lit only by the rare lantern or candle, and tightly packed with weary, frightened people.  When visiting the Mgarr shelter, I asked the guide how many people lived in the shelter.  He replied that he wasn’t sure, but that he knew that one square meter (a little more than a square yard for us Americans!) was allocated per person.  Go ahead, give it a try.  Draw a square on the floor, measuring little more than a yard, sit down in it, and see how comfortable you are.  Now imagine living in that square yard, in the darkness, with the constant echo of human voices, in the stench, with the shudder of bombs reverberating your day and night, and the overarching state of fear, worrying for the safety of your loved ones, wondering if you’re experiencing your last minute alive.  Sounds pretty dismal, right?  Now, think about how it would be to live that way for years.  Oh, and by the way?  You’re starving too!

While the Maltese even now take pride in their abundant crops and carefully tended fields, as an island Malta has almost always depended upon outside supplies.  This was also true during the war, when the population swelled with RAF servicemen.  Yet cutting off vital supplies is one of the easiest military tactics to force surrender, and it was employed with brutal effectiveness by the Axis.  The Allies sent supply convoy after convoy toward the island, only to see them sunk mid-sea.  Even more devastating were the few ships which managed to make it to the Grand Harbour, but were bombed and sent to the bottom at their most vulnerable - as the supplies were being unloaded at the dock.  The website www.historylearningsite.co.uk/malta_world_war_two.htm notes that, for a time, the supply convoys had to be stopped as they were simply too costly in terms of ships and men lost.  The Maltese (and the British servicemen although to a lesser extent) were put, literally, on starvation rations.  Wikipedia notes “during the greatest times of starvation, it is said that foods were rationed to “three boiled sweets, half a sardine and a spoonful of jam a day.”  The Aviation Museum at Ta Qali also lists the war-time rations for both civilians and servicemen.  Reading those ration lists is a lesson in heartbreak, living them is inconceivable.  And of course, the poor nutrition and sanitation led to the spread of disease, making life even more difficult.

According the “Faith, Hope, and Charity,” the British military strategists, realizing the desperate situation on the island, set a starvation date for the island of mid-August 1942.  After that date, the island, due to starvation, would no longer be defensible.  It would be surrendered, and the Maltese would have to hope that the Axis powers would see fit to feed them, or they’d die.  As the date approached, the suffering grew daily.  Finally, on August 15, 1942, days or even hours from the starvation date, on the feast of Santa Marija (St Mary), a public holiday on Malta, a convoy made it through to the harbour and was safely unloaded while the starving citizens of Malta lined the walls of Valletta’s fortifications, cheering with probably their last reserves of energy.  The arrival of the convoy, bringing with it food, medical supplies, and an injection of optimism and hope, heralded a turning point in Malta’s war fortunes.  It was followed by subsequent convoys and eventually, as the Axis efforts started to flag, they turned their attention away from stubborn, resilient, and eternally optimistic Malta, providing a great improvement in Maltese wartime life.

But even before the Santa Marija convoy provided relief, the sacrifice of the Maltese was recognized.  For the first time ever, on April 15, 1942, King George VI awarded the George Cross, Britain’s highest civilian award for gallantry, normally awarded to individuals, to the entire nation of Malta (see picture). “To honour her brave people, I award the George Cross to the Island Fortress of Malta to bear witness to a heroism and devotion that will long be famous in history”. President Franklin Roosevelt, describing the wartime period, called Malta “one tiny bright flame in the darkness.”  Of course, as I’m sure you’ll now agree, this tiny bright flame was pivotal in the Allied victory of WWII and in shaping the world in which we live.

Sources:

“Malta at War” by Mizzi and Vella, “Faith, Hope, & Charity” by Poolman, http://www.geocities.com/geldof_99/w_w2.html, http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/malta_world_war_two.htm, and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siege_of_Malta_(1940).

For such a small island, Malta is amazingly rich in history.  It’s likely a worldwide contender for the greatest density of historical importance per square kilometer!  Malta is home to the oldest man-made structures on earth - the megalithic temples; it’s tremendously significant as the centuries-old home of the Knights of Saint John; the importance of Malta in WWII can’t be underestimated in terms of geo-political impact; and Malta is one of the few places in the world that is directly and verifiably discussed in the Bible.  For Malta was the temporary home of arguably the greatest influence in the spread of Christianity - the Apostle Paul!

The story of Paul in Malta is detailed in the New Testament, primarily in Acts 28, but the back story takes place in earlier books of Acts.  If you don’t have a Bible handy, don’t worry - I’ll do my best to tell the tale!

In the year’s after Christ’s crucifixion, Paul, a known persecutor of early Christians, is overcome by a vision of Christ, asking him why he’s harassing Christ’s children, and commanding him not only to stop the persecution, but to spend his life bearing witness for Christ.  On the force of this event, he converts to Christianity and launches of a career of converting others.  His writings are prolific and instrumental in the founding of the Christian church, and many of his early letters are even today preserved as books in the New Testament.

As one might imagine, his new vocation is not universally well received.  He’s arrested but, being a Roman citizen (even one in a far-flung outpost of the empire), he invokes the right to appeal to Caesar in Rome.  Ironically, as Acts portrays it, had his case been tried in Caesarea where he was arrested (a town located on present-day Israel’s Mediterranean coast), the charges against Paul likely would have been dropped given that some of those in power were sympathetic to his cause.

However, Paul appealed to Caesar and so off to Rome he is taken in A.D. 60 along with a shipload of other prisoners: crew and prisoners totaling 276 men.  Incidentally, St. Luke is also on the voyage, accompanying Paul, although little emphasis is placed on his participation.

As Paul had predicted beforehand, the ship runs into a horrendous storm which lasts for two weeks.  Eventually on the 14th day, as the crew takes depth measurements, they’re horrified to learn they’re about to be forced aground.  Given the severe weather, this likely means the ship will be pulverized and all aboard killed.  In keeping with the emergency evacuation procedures of the day, the sailors set out to kill all the prisoners to prevent their unlikely escape, and then they prepare to abandon ship.

Paul, on good terms with the captain, convinces him that everyone - sailors and all - will perish if this action is taken.  The captain acquiesces to Paul who then encourages the crew to eat, proclaiming that not a hair on anyone’s head will perish.

While the sailors are attempting to control the grounding of the ship, it hits a shoal (or actually a minute island) off the coastline.  The captain orders all aboard to jump ship and try to make for the shore.  Miraculously (but not surprisingly given Paul’s prediction) everyone on board makes it safely to land (see photo 1 of St. Paul’s island, on the northwest coast of Malta, where the ship ran aground).

In the words of Acts 28:1-2, as found at http://bibleresources.bible.com,
“¹ Once we were safe on shore, we learned that we were on the island of Malta. ² The people of the island were very kind to us. It was cold and rainy, so they built a fire on the shore to welcome us.”  As you can see, the tradition of Maltese warmth and generosity, on which I’ve commented many times, runs deep - it literally spans millennia!

Something happens to Paul when helping tend the fire:  as he lays some twigs on it, a poisonous snake, driven out by the heat, bites him on the hand.  The Maltese take this as a sign of justice - they assume he must have committed a heinous crime, likely murder,  to escape the shipwreck only to die by the venom of a snake.  But Paul calmly shakes off the snake and suffers no ill-effects, creating a dramatic shift in the conventional wisdom of the Maltese - to have survived this, Paul must be a god!

This event actually heralds a miracle within a miracle.  Not only was Paul unaffected by the snake’s venom, from that point on all the venom left all the snakes and to this day, there are no poisonous snakes on Malta.  There’s a folktale related to this that I read about, but it took me a while to get a guy to actually say it aloud.  It goes something like this:  when St. Paul was bitten by the snake, a miracle occurred.  All the venom in all the snakes on the island went away!  But where did the venom go? (palms turned up in confusion, followed by a sly smirk)  Into the tongues of the women!!!  Ha, the Maltese may be kind, but they apparently still have a little work to do on political correctness!

Paul (and the rest of the crew and prisoners) stayed on the island for three months.  During this time, he converted the Maltese to Christianity, giving irrefutable validity to their claim to be the oldest Christian nation!  He was welcomed by the chief Roman official/governor on the island, Publius (later to become St. Publius).  Paul worked miracles by healing Publius’ gravely ill father as well as other islanders.  Publius converted to Christianity and invited Paul to stay at his palace in Mdina.  A Norman church was erected on the spot and, after it was destroyed by an earthquake in 1693, the Maltese baroque masterpiece of St. Paul’s cathedral was built between 1697 and 1702 to replace it (see pictures 2 and 3 of the exterior and interior of St. Paul’s Cathedral, Mdina).

Paul however, was a humble man and felt he was undeserving of such fine surroundings.  Instead, he chose to leave the elegance and safety of Mdina’s walls and settled in a cave in nearby Rabat (see photos 4 and 5 of St. Paul’s Grotto, Rabat.  I apologize for the weird sizing of these pictures, which were taken with a different camera! Side note: This site, along with St. Paul’s island, was visited by Pope John Paul II during his visit to Malta in 1990).

Eventually, after three months, the weather changed for the better.  Replenished with supplies from the kind islanders, Paul and the rest of the ship’s crew and passengers set off for Rome.  Paul eventually was executed there, but not before planting the foundations of the Catholic church and changing the lives of millions, not among the least the Maltese!

I still have a lot more to write about Malta, particularly now with the multitude of pleasures that summer here brings, but thought I’d write about our recent side trip to Egypt while the memories are still fresh.

There are twice-weekly flights between Malta and Cairo - on Thursdays and Sundays, so a long-weekend trip is just the ticket.  Since Friday was a public holiday with no school, we took a flight out late Thursday afternoon and returned Sunday afternoon.  We certainly only got to scratch the surface of this complex country, but it was just the right amount of time to hit the highlights.  Given that my daughters and I were traveling alone, without male companionship, we made the decision to use a “door to door” tour operator.  This meant that a representative met us just off the plane, guided us through customs, got our tourist visas for us, and escorted us to our hotel.  We had a driver and tour guide with us every day, and then they took us back to the airport and escorted us through customs again.  This turned out to be very nice and not all that expensive.  I’d highly recommend it for women travelers.  During the infrequent times we were away from the guide, usually just for a few minutes here and there, we received some unwelcome attention (including one very persistent  suitor!)  even though we dressed very modestly as instructed (longer pants, sleeves, no low necklines).  We saw some women in strappy tops and short shorts - I can’t imagine the attention they must have received!

During our whirlwind tour, we got to see many of Cairo’s delights including the citadel (see picture) built by Saladin in 1176AD as a fortification against the Crusaders and home to Egypt’s rulers for 700 years.  Inside the Citadel is the Mohammed Ali mosque, huge and airy, with twinkling chandeliers (see picture).  Our guide was Muslim, and although he was courteous, respectful, and aimed for neutrality, some of his opinions on the West were a bit disarming.  Still, I think we gained a lot of valuable insight about Arab perceptions of America from him.

We also visited the old Pharonic capital of Memphis with the grand statue of Ramses II (see picture), and the oldest pyramids at Saqqara, which had purposely stepped, as opposed to smooth, sides (see picture).  We got a taste of the Sahara desert at Saqqara, where it undulates literally for thousands of kilometers toward the border with Libya (see picture), visited the Giza plateau and saw the grand pyramids and the Sphinx, rode camels (yes, even me - see pictures!), toured the Egyptian museum, and did some shopping where I got to really test my negotiating skills.  Results on the negotiating: mixed!  There were a couple of items where I negotiated fiercely and think I did a good job.  However, I’m now in the possession of a couple of small carpets for which I suspect I overpaid.  I imagine that many a tourist returns from a bout with the crafty Egyptian hagglers with a touch of buyer’s remorse - me included, but that’s part of the experience!

In general, we felt very safe, but we were very conservative in our activities.  Even though we stayed in a nice hotel in a beautiful area, the tour guide told us not to go out from the hotel by ourselves, so we didn’t do any exploring on our own.  We had a guide with us the vast majority of the time, and we really needed him.  This was the first place I’ve traveled where I was conscious of being treated very differently because I was a woman.  And I never quite mastered the practice of not looking men in the eyes, which probably didn’t help!  Any Westerner needs to be aware that there are many scams - sometimes it seemed like one on every street corner.  Even some “officials” expected to have their palms greased for little things - this backhand economy is known as “baksheesh” where you’re expected to shell out a small amount (very small - often about 1 Egyptian pound, or about 20 cents), every time someone opens a door for you,  waives you through traffic, lets you take their picture, hails a cab, etc.  Given the incredible levels of poverty and unemployment in Egypt, baksheesh is probably necessary for survival, and it’s important to keep that in mind but it can be truly unnerving to constantly be met with outstretched hands.

It also was difficult to see the pristine Cairo parks contrasted with the utter filth outside the city - piles of garbage lining the irrigation canals, dead animals half-submerged, but young kids swimming there anyway to relieve the intense heat of day.  We saw many young children working at their parent’s market stalls, or even in the fields, and illiteracy levels are very high.  All in all, our trip to Egypt was a study in contrasts.  Amazing traces of advanced ancient civilizations juxtaposed against horrendous contemporary poverty.  It was a stark reminder of the multitude of blessings we enjoy, and the diverse life experiences and attitudes of others.

Malta, as mentioned previously, got a lot of unwelcome attention in World War II due to its strategic location.  In fact, it was the most heavily bombed place on Earth during those years.  To give you a sense of the scope of the bombing, the following selection comes “Siege Malta 1940 - 1943″ by Ernle Bradford.  The pictures are courtesy of http://www.killifish.f9.co.uk/Malta%20WWII/Index.htm.  It provides a photographic record of Malta during the war period and beyond.

Bradford tells us “the size of the Island is about equal to the Isle of Wight off the south coast of England or an area smaller than Greater London. During March & April 1942 alone the tonnage of bombs dropped on Malta was twice that dropped on London in the entire worst year of the blitz. Target areas were primarily the Harbour area & all airfields.
In March 1942 Malta endured 275 raids ( 90 of these at night ). In April 283 raids ( 96 at night ). Malta endured 154 days & nights of continual bombing. The longest continual raids on London were 57 days & nights. The Coventry blitz was reckoned to have had 260 tons of bombs dropped on the City. To put all these figures in perspective, Malta received (in the Harbour & surrounding towns) 6,700 tons of bombs during 6 weeks of March / April 1942.
The airfields were also heavily bombed receiving some 27 times the amount dropped on Coventry at the height of the blitz in October 1940. In March 1942 Fliegerkorps II mounted 4,927 sorties against Malta but in April Fliegerkorps X joined the attack & some 9,599 sorties were sent over the Island. Between the 1st January & the 24th July 1942 Malta had only 1 period of 24 hours without a raid.”

The attached pictures show: 1) Malta’s beautiful Opera House before the war; 2) The Opera House as it stands today (and debates on whether and how to rebuild are ongoing; and 3) a major street in the capital of Valletta, circa 1942.

For my next (and final) post on Malta in WWII, I’ll try to give you a sense of what it was like to for the Maltese to live under such harsh wartime conditions.

Since Malta is in the center of the Mediterranean, it’s easy to get just about anywhere in Southern Europe from here.  Over the Easter break, we took a 4-day side trip to Sicily.  I promise I’ll finish my Malta in WWII posts, but thought I’d give you some insight into Sicily while the trip was still fresh in my mind!

So, Sicily is about 65 miles northeast of Malta.  You can get there via ferry which takes about 90 minutes, or plane which takes about half that.  There are many travel agents in Malta who offer one day shopping trips to Sicily - we did that about a month ago.  It’s fun but makes for a long, long day!

For this trip, we flew into Catania, a large city on the central east coast of Sicily, and took the ferry back to Malta from Pozzallo, on the southeast tip of the island (see map).  This was to minimize driving time, as we did a large semi-complete loop, and by the end I was thankful for every less minute behind the wheel!

Day I: With my parents, sister, and daughters, we made a group of six.  My mom is a first-generation American and both her parents came from Sicily, so this was to be a “back to the homeland” trip.  My grandparents and their families emigrated to the United States over a hundred years ago, so we didn’t have any real expectations of meeting long lost relatives, but figured it’d be cool to at least see from where our ancestors hailed!

After arriving in Catania, we hit a snag - the 7 passenger van we’d booked was not available for some reason still not clear to me and the rental agent kept trying to give us a 5 passenger car instead.  Six people, five seats - not a good situation.  Finally, he “upgraded” us to a huge 9-passenger bus.  This vehicle was to be the bane of my existence for the next four days, particularly since Sicilian streets are narrow and windy, Sicilian drivers are (in my expert opinion) crazy, and the vehicle had a weird 6-speed manual transmission that took a lot of getting used to!

At any rate, we set off from the Catania airport and headed north to Mt. Etna.  Mt. Etna, Europe’s largest active volcano, dominates the skyline on much of the east coast (see photo).  From Catania, it’s only a short drive and well worth the trip.  When they say Mt. Etna is an active volcano, they mean it!  You can see wisps of smoke coming from the cone at any given point in the day, and as you make your way up to the viewing area (about 2/3 of the way up) you pass many signs of just how active it is!  According to wikipedia, there have been more than 60 major eruptions in the last 400 years, and in this millenium alone, Etna has erupted in 2001, 2002-2003, 2004-2005, 2007, and 2008 - now that’s active!  Etna is considered a strato volcano which means there are multiple vents - no one knows where it will erupt next, but supposedly, once it’s erupted and the lava has sealed itself, it’ll never erupt in that exact spot again!  The occasional fiery bursts from the top are said to be spectacular but harmless: the real danger lies in the hidden side vents which can burst out at any time, taking away, villages, people, or farms - really, anything in its path!  Driving up the mountain, you get ample opportunities to view Etna’s wrath (see picture).  Amazingly, given Etna’s volatility, there are a lot of shops, hotels, and businesses near the top.  There’s even a ski resort there, since Etna’s peak has snow for most of the year!  In the warm Mediterranean, it’s the easiest way to hit the slopes but given Etna’s volatility, I’m just not sure I’d feel comfortable skiing there - no way could my paltry skiing skills hope to outrace lava should an eruption occur!

After about a half day at Etna, we traveled a bit further north to the coastal town of Taormina.  Out of the whole trip, I have to say Taormina was my favorite part!  We booked a hotel overlooking beautiful Bella Isola, a tiny island that’s now a nature reserve (see picture).  Taormina is perched high on a cliff overlooking the sea.  To get there from the hotel (the Panoramic Taormina, which I highly recommend), it’s just a short hike to a public square where a cable car takes you up, up, up the mountain to the town itself.  Taormina is charming and beautiful, with flower-filled balconies overlooking winding streets filled with some pretty swanky shops.  There also are some Greek ruins and an ancient Greek theatre.  All in all, I loved Taormina and would return there in a heartbeat.  The only downside was the narrow coastal road on which the hotels are perched.  It isn’t exactly parking friendly, so guess who had to parallel park the huge bus on a winding steep road?  My “hate-hate” affair with the bus had begun!

Day II: After a leisurely breakfast, we headed north then west to Termini Imerese, which was the home of my grandmother before coming to America.  It was a tough day of driving - we’d either be on the autostrade, which apparently doesn’t have a speed limit, or else it’s widely ignored, with trucks, cars, and motorcycles zooming around us, or we were on a coastal road - scenic, charming, and very winding - up and down hills, lots of hairpin curves, giving me plenty of practice finding the gears on the weird transmission.  Termini Imerese is a town of about 26,000 people and I can see why my grandmother wanted to leave!  It was crowded, noisy, hectic, and again, the drivers are just crazy.  After winding our way through town, we found our next hotel, only to be greeted by a note for us taped to the door, stating that due to a water problem, they’d shut down and booked us in a hotel back in Termini.  Trying to find our way there, we ventured down yet another narrow twisty road, rounded another hairpin curve, went down another long hill with very little clearance on either side for the bus, and found ourselves at a dead end.  So much for the “clear” signage to the hotel!  So then, already exhausted, I had to back that awful bus up a long hill, trying not to scrape the sides given the approximately 4 inches of clearance.  All in all, day II of the Sicily trip probably ranked among the 10 worst days in my life!  OK, enough whining - been there, done that.  Eventually, we got out of that fix, found the real road to the hotel, and settled in for the night (see picture of Termini Imerese).

Day III:  Another day of driving…  We headed south towards Agrigento to the town of Aragona, my grandfather’s village.  The road south was not well marked, so it took a couple of aggravating tries to find it.  My mom remembers a little Italian from her childhood, but it wasn’t nearly enough to manage directions, etc.  Finally, we found the road and headed south through the heartland of Sicily.  The road was just the right size, smaller than the autostrade, but big enough that it wasn’t winding and torturous.  We drove around Aragona and stopped on a whim at a farmhouse bed and breakfast (the Principe of Aragona) for an incredible lunch.  I lost count of the number of courses, and most of the food and wine was produced on the farm.  It was truly a memorable meal, for a very reasonable price - about 20 euros or so per person!  Then we passed through Agrigento and the valley of the temples, with multiple Greek ruins, before (after a few hitches and some more vague directions) we found our hotel - the very modern Best Western Kaos (I’d also recommend this one), with a distant view of the sea.  Unfortunately, the day of driving didn’t give us any time to go see the temples up close, but I’d definitely recommend spending some time there to anyone passing through - they looked really cool!

Day IV: So, we left Agrigento and made our way east towards Pozzallo.  It was gray and overcast, but otherwise the scenery was gorgeous.  We all remarked how it reminded us somewhat of Scotland, with the sheep, the green fields, and the dry stone walls dissecting the landscape.  This was the easiest driving day and thank goodness because I needed it!  The only snag was, as we were leaving the hotel, a huge tour bus pulled in.  For whatever reason, the driver didn’t want to repark it, so I had to navigate our now (in contrast) small bus backward through a narrow opening between the big bus and a stone wall.  The driver of the bus helped to guide me, although the amazement on his face (as well as on the faces of a lot of other Sicilian men) seeing a woman manhandle a bus was pretty funny!  I haven’t seen any women driving buses in Malta - apparently it’s not too common in Sicily either!  At any rate, we got to Pozzallo with plenty of time to spare, had a great lunch at a place on the beach with really, really fresh seafood, returned the vehicle (with no damage, I’m proud to say!) then headed home on somewhat choppy seas back to Malta.

All in all, I’m so glad I went on the trip, but I was really glad to get back “home” to Malta.  I’d definitely be tempted to return and explore the parts of Sicily where we didn’t have enough time, but unfortunately my recollections of the home of my ancestors will always be tinged with flashbacks of that big, awful bus!!!

As I’ve mentioned before, Malta underwent quite an ordeal in WWII.  These next few posts will be devoted to the stoic bravery of the Maltese during the war, and the incredible sacrifices they made to enable the Allies victory and therefore the free Europe that we know today.  Since the story is involved but is well worth telling, I’ll use a couple of posts to tell the tale.  And because I wasn’t personally around at the time, I’ll be relying on a few excellent sources to make sure I get my facts straight.  Among these are: “Faith, Hope, and Charity; the Defence of Malta” by Kenneth Poolman, “The Kappillan of Malta” by Nicholas Monsarrat, and my Lonely Planet Malta & Gozo Guidebook.

Geographically, Malta lies at the heart of the Mediterranean, about 65 miles southwest of Sicily and almost 100 miles off the coast of Africa (see map).  It’s not an exaggeration to say that whoever controls Malta controls this vital body of water.  This is one of the reasons it was so important to the Phoenicians, the Sicilians, the Knights of St. John, the Ottomans, and Napoleon and the British, to name but a few whose attentions focused (sometimes not so benevolently) on the island.

In the 1930’s as tensions in Europe intensified and nations started to prepare for war, the British found themselves in a difficult situation.  Although they recognized the strategic importance of Malta, it was hundreds of miles away from any friendly territory and its isolation and size made it difficult to defend.  Additionally, many Maltese, with their strong Sicilian roots, found it impossible to believe their Italian brothers, led by Mussolini, would bear arms against them.  As a result, Malta was horrendously unprepared when Mussolini declared war on Britain, and hence on the British colony of Malta, on June 10, 1940.

Any hope that Malta would escape Mussolini’s attentions was quickly shattered when the Italian bombers attacked Malta’s Grand Harbour the next morning.  Malta’s only real defense against the bombers took the form of three older Gloster Gladiatior biplanes (see picture), quickly nicknamed Faith, Hope, and Charity by the devoutly Catholic Maltese.  These biplanes had been left on the island as a result of an administrative oversight but the British forces quickly put them to good use.  During those early days of fighting, the RAF pilots fought so skillfully and effectively that the Italian pilots estimated the Maltese squadron to consist of about 25 planes!  The only survivor of the three is “Faith,” which can be seen at the Malta National War Museum.

These planes (of which there were actually 4 - the final one never took to the ground but was used for parts instead) literally helped to tip the balance of the war by denying Mussolini the easy capture of the island.  In fact, the island never fell into enemy hands in WWII, even when Hitler, disgusted with Mussolini’s failed efforts, focused the brunt of the notorious Luftwaffe on the island.  Had Mussolini successfully captured Malta in June 1940 (or Hitler at any point thereafter), the Axis forces would have quickly gained control of the Mediterranean, enabling secure supply routes to European, African, and Russian ports (via the Black sea), and therefore possibly tipping the balance of power to an inevitable Axis victory.  A 1942 cartoon (see picture) succinctly shows the frustration of the huge Axis in their inability to conquer the seemingly defenseless island.

Public transportation?   Has she already run out of interesting things to talk about?   Rest assured, the Maltese bus is a bit of a national symbol and so I thought I’d give you the run down on it (not to be confused with being run down by it, which really isn’t a significant danger, even if it seems so at times!)

As you know, Malta is a small country - too small for a subway or even a train system, although at one point, there was a train that ran from Valletta (the capital) to Mdina(the old capital) for a couple of decades ending before WWII!  As a result, the public transportation system consists of a fleet of buses that crisscross the island.  Although I’ve heard a few derogatory remarks, the system is actually pretty efficient - I haven’t been stranded yet, so keep your fingers crossed!

The majority of the buses start and end at Triton Fountain, at Valletta’s city gate.  The circle of buses surrounding the fountain is overwhelming at first - it seems an endless variety of buses zooming back and forth in concentric circles 4 or 5 rows deep in places, jockeying for position, pedestrians be damned.  However, like much else in Malta, the system is actually far more orderly than it looks.  Each bus has a designated position around the fountain, marked by an inconspicuous sign, and the passengers queue up underneath the sign to wait for the next available bus.  Many buses run at least every half hour, if not more frequently.  For example, the buses from Valletta to Sliema (where I live) run every 10 minutes and there are multiple routes that pass through, so the wait is usually only a few minutes.  Other buses, the “direct routes” which bypass Valletta, run with less frequency, usually once an hour.  I’m fortunate that there’s a direct bus from Sliema to the university.  This happy coincidence can be attributed to the fact that the university is next to Mater Dei, the public hospital, so various buses run from different parts of the island directly to the hospital, which makes sense.  If you need to get to the hospital, it’d be miserable to have to wait and change buses in Valletta!

In Malta, many of the buses (but not all, I’m told) are privately owned by the drivers.  All the buses have to be the same color scheme - bright yellow with bright orange and white trim (and the jitneys which carry school students and small tours all are red with white trim).  The similarity ends there though!  The buses depict a dazzling array of transportation history, since apparently a driver can keep operating a bus as long as it functions.  Some of the buses are new, modern, and even air-conditioned.  Far more are older though,  and in a variety of conditions.  We’ve ridden on newer scruffy buses and vintage pristine ones.  I’ve attached some pictures.  My dad, being a car buff, will be able to tell me for sure once I get here, but it looks like some of the buses date from the 40’s at least.  Upon seeing the heavy pointed grilles on a few of the older ones, I initially would have pegged them as late 30’s but that makes no sense.  Given the desperate conditions of WWII and the books I’ve read about the era, I haven’t seen any references to public bus service during the war and the Maltese, pragmatic as they are, would surely have melted down any bus in existence then for the much needed metal and then walked to wherever they needed to go!  That said, I’ll guess that the oldest buses date from the earliest pre-war construction - mid to late 40s.  We’ll see if I’m on the money when dad arrives!  My favorite buses, rare that they are though, are the ones from the 50’s - they have the huge tail fins associated with that era.  Imagine, a bus with fins!

Most drivers personalize their buses.  Usually, there’s some sort of religious display at the front, often a picture of the Virgin Mary or some saint, along with a few photos of what I assume are deceased relatives - mothers, dads, sisters, etc.    Along with the religious display, the driver often customizes his bus with mottoes, sayings, and decorations that give you a sense of who he is.   I’ve seen American and British flags displayed, cartoon characters, mildly girly pictures (mindful of the younger riders, I’m sure), partial lyrics from songs, etc.  One of my favorites was a little verse that basically boiled down to: sit down, pay up, and shut up!  I’ve also seen buses with little personalized touches like the one shown here where curtains had been lovingly made for all the windows - very cozy!

Bus transportation in Malta is pretty cheap.  Most Zone A fares (and Zone A covers a good 2/3 of the island) are 47 euro cents, which is about 60 cents U.S.  Children aged 9 and under have a reduced fare.  The most expensive fare listed on my bus map is 1.57 euros, still around $2 U.S.  There are even reasonably priced “night buses” for those out partying - you never have to worry about getting stranded and not finding a taxi home!  Hailing from Pittsburgh as I do, I can’t help but think that our Port Authority Transit system could use a couple of lessons from the Maltese - Pittsburgh bus fares are among the most expensive in the U.S., and I don’t think you can even get on a bus for 60 cents!
The bus drivers have a bit of a reputation for being grouchy, which is part of their charm!  I’ve had many kind, helpful drivers, and in the grand scheme of things, I can’t really blame the others for their grumpiness.  Since bus fare is so reasonable and the guide books tout the buses as the best transportation, the system is clogged with tourists - often confused, sometimes speaking no common language with the drivers (who all speak English and Maltese at least), and too frequently they’re downright snotty and impervious!  Imagine the all too common scenario that occurs on my ride to work every morning:

Driver: (pulls up to a given stop, and as this is a “direct” route, shouts loudly) “Not to Valletta!”

Tourist:  I’d like two tickets to Valletta please.

Driver: Not to Valletta!

Tourist:  What do you mean?  I want to go to Valletta!

Driver: Take bus 62 for Valletta.

Tourist (with attitude):  No, I want to go to Valletta - my guidebook say the buses queue in Valletta, and that’s where I want to go.

Driver (losing patience as his route gets off schedule, and the line behind the tourists grows longer): You must take bus 62 - right behind me - this bus DOES NOT go to Valletta!

Tourist (exiting bus and muttering about the peasants here):  Well, the nerve of that man!  When we get to Valletta, I’m going to report him!

Then the bus rambles on to the next stop, where the scenario is repeated all over.  Honestly, who can fault the drivers’ their attitude?  I’d be pretty darn grumpy if I had to put up with that all day too!

All in all though, the system works well, it’s reasonable, and the drivers do try to look out for you.  If you flag down a bus between stops, the driver usually will let you one.  In one case, the girls and I flagged down a bus to go to Mdina.  The driver said he was coming from Mdina and we were in the wrong spot (the roads around there are winding and confusing).  I asked him where the right bus stop was, and he told us to get on the bus and then took us there!  Pretty nice, really!

So, I’m a bit behind in my blogging, mainly because we’ve been out traveling and getting to know Malta a bit better.  Last week, we visited the smaller island of Gozo.  The Maltese archipelago is actually made up of three islands - Malta, the largest, is about 17 miles long x 9 miles wide.  Gozo is about 1/3 that size and is much less densely populated.  The third island, Comino, is tiny - it’s less than a square mile in size and my Lonely Planet guidebook indicates there are less than a dozen year-round residents!

To get there, we took a bus to the ferry at the northern end of Malta, then took a 1/2 hour ferry ride to Gozo.  From the northern end of Malta, you can easily see both Gozo and Comino - they’re that close.  The ferry passes Comino, which is famous for the Blue Lagoon, a gorgeous cove for swimming and snorkeling.  We plan to hit that once the weather warms up just a bit more - although my daughters have already been swimming, I haven’t done more than dip my toes yet!

On Gozo, the main city is Victoria, also known as Rabat.  It has a cool walled citadel which is a pint-sized version of the one in Mdina (picture attached).  Since Gozo is far less populated but the sights are still a bit spread out, we rented a car so I got to practice driving on the “other” side of the road.  As a former British colony, Malta follows British driving practices so it’s a bit tricky for us Americans.  Fortunately, traffic on Gozo is about a tenth as crazy as traffic on Malta, so we did fine - no mishaps, despite a couple near misses.

In Greek mythology, Gozo is known as Calypso’s Isle.   It was described in Homer’s Odyssey as the place where the nymph Calypso seduced Odysseus and kept him captive for seven years, until Zeus sent Hermes to secure Odysseus’ release.  We went to Calypso’s cave (picture attached) and walked down the narrow semi-steps.  I can see why Odysseus wanted out, despite Calypso’s charms, although the view from the top to scenic Ramla Bay was gorgeous (picture attached).

We also visited Ggantija Temples, the largest of the megalithic temples found in Malta (pictures attached).  Along with two temples on Malta itself, Ggantija dates to the period 3600 - 2500B.C., making them the oldest man-made structures on the face of the earth, predating the Egyptian pyramids by a full 1,000 years!  According to my guidebook, the largest of the stones measures 6 x 4 meters and weights 57 metric tonnes.  Like the mysteries of the pyramids at Giza and Stonehenge in England, you can’t help but wonder how these massive stones were erected with literally pre-historic technology.  Unlike Stonehenge though, you aren’t barred from touching the temples.  In fact, given the narrow, uneven passageways, it’s almost impossible not to reach out to steady yourself occasionally.  It was amazing to actually touch something so incredibly old.  I suspect that eventually though, to prevent erosion of the site, the temples will be better roped off to permit viewing only from a distance.

We rounded out our tour of Gozo with a visit to their crafts village, a smaller version of the one on Malta, where you can see Maltese lace, filagree, and blown glass hand-produced.  We also visted the Azure window (pictures attached), a huge, gorgeous rock formation popular with divers and snorkelers, and took a leisurely drive around the island, admiring the spectacular coastline (picture attached).  It was so nice having a car, even for a day, and feeling in command of our destiny without relying on bus schedules, etc.  All in all though, I feel we only scratched the surface of this small but fascinating island so I’m sure we’ll be back and you’ll get to hear more later!

As I’ve mentioned before, the Maltese are incredibly warm and friendly people.  In general, they go out of their way to be helpful and kind.  As rare as this is in a world where everyone seems increasingly rushed, frantic, and brusque, it’s even more incredible given the history of Malta.

From the earliest times, Malta has been attractive to other peoples.  Fossilized bones found in a prehistoric cave (Ghar Dalam) suggest that Malta was once linked to southern Europe via a land bridge.  The island also claims the oldest man-made structures on EARTH (that’s right, older than Stonehenge, older than Easter Island, even older than the pyramids)!   These stone structures have been dated to 3600B.C., and some pottery fragments unearthed on the island are similar to those found in Sicily, suggesting that the earliest Maltese likely came from somewhere else themselves (see note).

At any rate, it seems that Malta always has enticed others, a fact which can be attributed largely to it’s strategic location in the Mediterranean.  Unfortunately, those enticed others often weren’t desirable visitors.  As I’d mentioned previously, Malta had once been a hotbed of pirate activity, seemingly at a peak between the 11th and 15th century.  During this time, according to Lonely Planet, “Malta remained a minor pawn on the edge of the European chessboard, and its relatively small population of down-trodden islanders paid their taxes by trading, slaving, and piracy, and were repaid in kind by marauding Turks and Barbary corsairs.

Just around the corner from our apartment is pretty Balluta Bay, which apparently was a major pirate lair.  In fact, one shopkeeper in the area told me an interesting story about the two Maltese villas located prominently in front of the posh Le Meridien hotel (picture attached).  When the hotel was being planned, they initially wanted to tear down the villas and build right on the sea front.   They ended up building around the villas, however, due to their historical significance.  Way back when, the villas were reputed pirates’ lairs - supposedly, the pirates could set anchor in Balluta Bay, and then ferry their loot on shore, through underground tunnels that met the sea, right into the villas above!  If you look closely at the shoreline on the right, you can see some arched indentations where these tunnels supposedly came out.  On our tour last weekend, the guide explained that many of Malta’s curvy twisted streets were planned that way, not due to the topography, but as a defense for the islanders being pursued by pirates.  Remember “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” where Indiana Jones and crew are spirited away from the bad guys by people in Cairo’s bazaar?  It’s the same principle - make the streets incredibly complex and windy, and any non-natives are sure to get lost - trust me, it works beautifully!

At various points in Maltese history, the Phoenicians, Romans, Arabs, Normans, Angevins (French), Aragonese and Castilians (Spanish) ruled the island.  In the 1500’s the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V gave Malta to the Knights of St. John after the Knights were forced out of Rhodes by the advancing Ottoman Turks, on a campaign, it seems, to take over the entire known world.  In 1551, the Turkish admiral Dragut Reis, under the infamous Ottoman ruler Suleyman the Magnificent,  invaded the smaller Maltese island of Gozo and carried off virtually all its inhabitants - over 5000 men, women, and children - forcing them into slavery.  The Turkish reign of terror created some deep scars - one of the professors at the univerity told me that growing up, when children misbehaved, they were commonly told to improve their behavior or “the Turks will carry you off!”

The Turks were held at bay by the Knights of St. John during a long, brutal siege in 1565, of which I’ll write more later.  After the siege, the Knights embarked on a campaign of fortifying the island.  One remant of those fortifications is a series of watch towers ringing the island.  Just up the road from our apartment, in the other direction from Balluta Bay, is St. Julian’s Tower, build in 1658 (pictures attached).  The Knights ruled Malta relatively benignly for a couple centuries, but as their influence waned, the island became a hot target for a new despot - Napoleon Bonaparte.

Napoleon took Malta from the Knights in 1798.  Although he himself was only in residence on the island for 6 days, he set up a brutal and oppressive regime, and managed to spirit away the majority of the Knights’ silver, gold, paintings, and tapestries, looted from the Knights’ churches, auberges, and hospital. Unfortunately, most of this treasure was lost forever when Napolean’s fleet was sunk by the British Admiral Nelson at the Battle of the Nile.  The Maltese later revolted against the French when they tried to pillage an important Mdina church, and they sought help from the British to overthrow the French once and for all.  This led to a period of British rule that continued until 1964, even through WWII when Malta was again under siege.  In 1964, for the first time in millenia, Malta became an autonomous nation!  Given their history, then, it’s even more incredible that the Maltese are so welcoming and friendly - but then, maybe the tourists on which Malta’s economy thrives don’t seem so threatening in comparison to old Dragus Reis!

Note:  The information in this blog comes from a variety of sources:  discussions with various people I meet along the way, information provided from tours we’ve taken, the historical segments of the book “The Kapillan of Monsarrat” which has been acclaimed for its accuracy, and from my Lonely Planet guide, “Malta & Gozo.”  Although I won’t claim that the information contained within this blog is completely error-free, please note that I do strive for accuracy!

So, we’re definitely settling in here.  My daughters have started school with a minimum of fussing and groaning, which hopefully will leave me a bit more time for blogging.  The weather is getting sunnier and warmer by the day with forecasts in the mid-60s (F) all week.  Interestingly, the water temperature is about the same as the air, so we see a few brave souls swimming almost daily.  I’m not quite ready to jump in just yet, though!

Our tour left from the far end of our town, Sliema, and basically headed west then north around the island.  We made our second visit to Mdina (pronounced em-deen-ah), a city with which we are quickly falling in love.  Mdina was the ancient capital of Malta, founded by the Phoenicians in about 1,000BC.  It sits inland on a high point on the island, and from its ancient walls you can see virtually every part of the island.  Mdina remained the capital until the Knights of St. John, who tended to be  sea-farers, established the newer coastal capital of Valletta in the 16th century.

Mdina is called the silent city due to its massive walls and peaceful, very narrow streets which allow for little or no traffic.  I was told that if you live in Mdina, you’re allowed to have a car, otherwise, all vehicular traffic is banned.  Mdina is filled with narrow, graceful, winding streets and is delightful to explore.  Because it’s walled and relatively small, it’s almost impossible to get lost!

We also visited Mosta, which is another larger inland city.  Mosta is a busy, crowded city of about 17,000 people.  It’s claim to fame is the Parish Church of Santa Maria, more commonly known as the Mosta dome.  The Mosta church is the third largest unsupported dome church in Europe, after St. Peter’s in Rome and a church in Istanbul.  More importantly though, it’s the site of a bona fide WWII miracle!  During WWII, Malta was bombed heavily by the Axis because of it’s strategic location in the Mediterranean.  I’m currently reading “The Kapillan of Malta” by Nicholas Monsarrat, about a fictional priest in the very real wartime conditions of Malta.  It’s excellent and I recommend it, particularly if you want to know more about the strength and resolve of the people here, and what they endured during the war.   The entire island was awarded the St. George’s Cross, Britain’s highest civilian medal, for their bravery, but that’s another story…

At any rate, back to Mosta… On June 9, 1942, three German bombs struck the Mosta dome while approximately 300 parishoners were inside awaiting the start of Mass.  Two of the bombs bounced off the dome and landed in the square without exploding.  The third PIERCED the dome, bounced off an inner wall, skittered across the floor among the worshippers, and also failed to explode.  No one was hurt, hence the miracle!  The British then collected the bombs, which were live by the way, and exploded them in the harbor.  There are pictures in the church of the hole in the dome, and the bomb on the floor, and there’s a replica of the bomb there also.  My pictures of inside didn’t come out well so I’ll try to take some more next time we’re there.  At any rate, it was way cool!

I’ve also attached some pictures of the Maltese countryside - it’s much wilder in the north, and I’ll have more stories of that, along with some bona fide pirates tales, the next time I write!