My arrival in Zebbug, Gozo is greeted with fireworks and what sounds like cannons firing.  Nice to feel welcomed.

Holly and I flew out to Gozo late on Friday night, arriving in the early hours of Saturday morning.  Uncle Charlie is there to pick us up despite our protestations that we would be happy to catch the bus to the ferry at the other end of the island.  But he insisted apparently, and it is nice to see him again (I missed out on my Malta trip last year).  Charlie is one of those people who is fazed by nothing and as a result of that laissez-faire attitude still has dark hair at the age of 64.  Having insisted on us being met, Myriam has decided to stay in bed but I don’t blame her.  We will see her next week.

Charlie drops us at the Cirkewwa ferry terminal in time for the 2.35am boat.  You won’t be surprised to hear there are not many people around.   The ferry terminal is an example of modern Malta , a nicely air conditioned and spacious modern building, funded no doubt with EU support.  A sharp contrast to what was here 20 years ago.  But inside, the old Malta is alive and strong.  There is free WIFI but it doesn’t work.  There is a sign up which says that the gate will close 3 minutes before departure but just 5 minutes before departure there is an official on guard to keep back the huge crowd of foot passengers (6 of us) from getting on board.  There is small Maltese lady nearby who is looking anxiously at the clock.  She has a huge suitcase and an overly packed rucksack.  I will call her Stella.  There is sqawk on the radio and the security rope is taken away.  Stella is out of her blocks so fast Usain would have been proud.  I am not sure if her suitcase is designed to be wheeled in an upright position of tilted so it can run on two wheels.  I don’t think Stella knows either and she struggles towards the escalator.  I am just behind her.   Before I know it, Stella has lost her balance  on the first few steps of the escalator and she is rolling back down towards me with her massive suitcase and rucksack not far behind.  Obviously I catch her and there is a slightly undignified process of getting her back on her feet.  She is sat on a step with her legs in the air and fortunately I have been able to stop her being crushed by her own suitcase.  But Stella is pretty sprightly and is back up in a flash with no clear sign of injury except perhaps her pride.  Meanwhile Holly is struggling behind me holding on to 2 suitcases – mine and hers.  The ferry terminal official is stood at the bottom of the escalator by the way , just watching the commotion.  Does he use the emergency stop button?  No.  Another passenger behind Holly has decided to help and grabs Holly’s suitcase.  There is a bit of argument as Holly assures her that she can cope well enough by herself but the woman just won’t let go.  I hear “Let go of my case!” .  We think the woman (probably in her 60’s but trying to look younger ) has been out partying.  Stella is on her way.  She turns and shouts “thank you!”  We take our seats on the boat trying to keep our distance from the  mad woman and from Stella too, to save her embarrassment.

At Mgarr, Gozo we are met by Mrs K and Sian, both looking nicely tanned but a bit bleary eyed.  It is 3am but we are all in bed in our rented house in Zebbug by half past.  No more dramas.

We have stayed in this house twice before (or is it 3 times?).  It is not that often that we return to the same place but we just love the pool and the view.  Just like 2 years ago our stay coincides with the Zebbug festa.  It is one weekend a year that the whole village celebrates and believe me they really go for it.  On Friday night, Mrs K and Sian witnessed the 100 strong brass band parading past our house with the statue of Mary from the church (carried on the backs of the men of the village).  There is a large group of enthusiastic youngsters cheering, shouting and bopping (that’s what they called it in my day). 

On the next evening, there is a repeat performance.  We decide to have our dinner on the patio overlooking the valley and the Mediterranean in the distance.  It would be peaceful except for the ‘bombi’ which have been going off for the past couple of hours at regular intervals.  These are the sort of fireworks which explode and the shock wave goes right through you.  This is no Rotary Club firework display – this is closer to battlefield explosions.  As we eat something like volcanic ash is falling down on us and our food.  The next day our patio looks like a volcano erupted nearby and there is debris floating around in the pool. 

The fireworks go on for hours.  It would be frightening to know how much the village spends on the display.   Later on we wander up to the square to join in the festivities and there is a man going round collecting money  - people are putting in coins, which won’t be enough.   Sian meets her cousins and their friends and they set off to a party leaving the oldies to buy some Gozo nougat, watch the statue being paraded back into the church to the applause of the crowd and then wander back home.  The fireworks come to a conclusion with a bombi which makes the ground shake.

On Tuesday, I feel the need for a haircut.  It is not quite as hot this year as normal and the clouds have made it quite muggy.  It is a struggle to find a barbers that is open at 4pm in the afternoon – still siesta time.  We find a unisex salon.  Holiday haircuts don’t always work out well and this time is no exception when I emerge looking like the last of the mohicans. The difference between a bad haircut and a good haircut is about a week (I hope).

On Wednesday morning,  I am lying in bed and hear screams from the kitchen.  By the time I make it down the drama is over.  There was a small snake that had found its way in from the patio.  Mrs K dealt with it with a broom.  Didn’t know who it was dealing with.

Anthony, Phoebe and Chris have all arrived from England so we now have a houseful and visitors due over the next few days.

The weather is truly shocking.  Not totally bad but shocking in the sense that we have had lots of cloudy spells and periods of extremely high winds.  Zebbug is perched on top of a hill and the house across the street is called “House of the Wind”.  I now know why.

We have Maltese visitors to the house, some from England and some from Malta.  Tony and Eileen are staying along the street with Alfred and Mary Rose.  We also very pleased to see Paul, Marcel, Steve and Nicky who have made special trip over from Malta to see us.  It is blowing a gale outside so we cram round the kitchen table – 15 of us.  It is like old times with the old generations reminiscing about the old days in Malta.

Mrs K urges me to go to see our new friend Gary the barber to sort out my first haircut.  He confirms it is the worst haircut he has ever seen in his life.  He does what he can – which means that I now look like a toilet brush.  I think this will take more than a week.

My shock at the weather rises to new heights with 3 more days of clouds and some thunderstorms.  Only now as I wait in the lounge at Malta airport to go home has the sun returned – typical. Mrs K has another 2 days to finish off her tan while I go back to work – it’s the natural order of things.

Typical coastline of Gozo – not a person in sight

The Azure window (featured in first episode of Game of Thrones – wedding scene)

A new discovery courtesy of the Foulsers – Mgarr-ix-xini

- Where we had a fantastic lunch

The road to Hondoq from Qala with Comino (blue lagoon) in the distance

Chairs blown into the pool by the gales and storms

The worst weather I have ever witnessed in Malta/Gozo in 30 years

Jeff

September 2013