Mighty But Midget Malta

Five (Sunny, Warm) Days in Malta



The reaction I got when I first spread the word about my upcoming trip to Malta were pretty unanimous. Comments like “Really?” and “That's so cool!” were almost immediately followed up by a slightly sheepish “Um, where is exactly is that again?”



Right first, the quick geography lesson – Malta is a tiny, tiny country of about 400,000 people, smack dab in the middle of the Meditteranean between Tunisia and Sicily. Um, if you need more details – you'll have to check an atlas. It's an archipelago, which is a fancy name for a bunch of islands (in this case 3), that is blessed with about 300+ days of sunshine every year. The other bonus is that it's tiny – about 25 miles by 10 miles, so any trip is nothing more than an hour at most in one of Malta's immaculately maintained gaggle of British made buses.



Now, while I don't think that Malta will ever jump to the top of anyone's places to visit before you die, it's a pretty cool place to go, especially if you're a sun-accustomed American who wanted a break from the impending several months of uninterrupted greyness that best describes a London winter. Add in cheap flights for about $100 round trip and I was hooked.

My plan basically was to have no plan, besides checking out the capital Valetta, and it worked out admirably well. I had two nights at Granny's Inn, a near-perfect hostel in Sliema, just a short water taxi from the city, then headed to Mdina, a charming near-ghost walled city on a rugged hilltop, before checking out Gozo, Malta's even more chilled out little brother island.

And rather than go into major detail about all the where's and what's, I figured that it'd be better to just dive in with some random impressions to help give a flavor of the place.

First, Malta's a hodge-podge. It's been conquered so many times by so many cultures, that what's left is a charming and unique culture all its own. Take the language – at times, it sounds awfully like Italian, but then you see the Arabic/African influence in street signs all starting with “Tir” or exotic places like Xlendi and Ta'Chen. Add in a bunch of British vocab and for I know French, and it's a pleasant muddle to the ear.



This mixture doesn't stop with the language. From food to street signs, I was constantly scratching my head as to what country had the biggest impact on Malta's development. The food is heavily Italian, with yummy pasta (including rabbit and sea anemone variants), but most Brits wouldn't feel out of place with English fry-ups, tea, and biscuits. Yup, if I had to pick, I have to come down that England has had the biggest impact; it's evidence is everywhere, from the streets named Tir Strand (The Strand) to even red English post boxes and phone booths.



Other bits... Malta is all about stone, and walls. Valetta has got to be the most fortified city I've seen, with multiple layers of super thick, and REALLY high walls that stood it in good stead in the Great Siege by the Turks.



But, even outside the city, you'll come across so many random towers and other structures that are memories to forgotten rulers. Heck, even separating fields in the country requires a wall that wouldn't be out of place protecting the smartest of the 3 pigs. Forget wood, baby - in Malta, they go for permanent, and that means rock.

Oh sure, I probably shouldn't forget the actual feel of the countryside... with whitish stone and brilliant sunshine, Malta's somewhere you really need sunglasses even in November. I got in several good walks – one to the striking coastal cliffs near Mdina, and another linking Xlendi with Djerma on Gozo.




Finally, Malta simply does NOT forget their history. The memories of being the most-bombed terrain in World War 2 while they were essentially an island aircraft carrier for the British are everywhere, mixed in with constant proud mentions of the Knights of Malta, and their own proud contributions to everything from culture to defence.



Let's see – this is already getting longer than I'd planned for such a short trip, so I'll just sum it all up... I traipsed around Valetta, checking out most of the fort and a rather mediocre war museum before a sunny lunch overlooking the harbor. Day two took me to Mdina, with a cool hotel right outside the city walls. There's not a lot to 'do' but three wanders around, in the day, dusk, and dawn, were a real treat. Oh yes, and the many, many friendly cats were a bonus.




Days three and four saw me over in Gozo – which is super relaxed and mellow. Checking out the cool castle and getting lost in the winding streets of il Borgo district took up most of the day...



...with a bit of watching England lose to Brazil in a smoke filled community center/theater. The next day saw me getting my hike on (and trying to work off some of the pasta I've been eating!) with a 10 mile hike up cliff trails and along the coast to Djerma's Blue Cove and Azure Portal.




A long hike back to town including a really pretty cemetery...




...and it was a ferry/bus ride back to Sliema, where I check out Vittoriosa and more of Malta's less-famous sights before catching a flight home.



Fortune almost smiled on me here as well – as I was asked if I wouldn't mind being bumped to the first flight tomorrow. Hm... I was thinking... thinking... and then they mentioned 400 Euros ($600) cash. Sold!

Alas, I just missed out – but did end up getting a free upgrade to business class, with a whisky or two to help me get warmed up before landing at midnight in cold and misty London.

The Grand Tour's Last Stop... SF!

8.15 to 8.24: Back in SF!



At long last, the final leg of my long journey brought me back to the strange shores of, well, California. After Africa, Asia, and so on, landing in SF felt a bit surreal. On one level, I felt like I had experienced so much in such a short time, that I half-expected to find SF had changed dramatically as well. Of course that wasn’t the case, and it was funny how easy it was to just go with the flow again.

My week and a half was a blast – however, since SF isn't quite as exotic as, say, Nepal, and since I'm four months late finishing this @$! blog, I’ll just give the highlights. :)

8.15 Long, long overdue shower, then dinner and catchup with the folks.

8.16 Emily came over and we had my somewhat delayed birthday meal, with Dad giving a rare lesson in teaching Steve and I how to cook up the classic Hawkins hamburgers, followed by carmel cake pudding. Awesome as always. I tried my hand at bartending, with a new recipe I found for a gin-based manhattan. Strong, smooth, and dangerous and helped us to a slightly raucous cocktail hour in the living room.



8.17 Boring logistics day of heading to the DMV. Steve gave me a ride though and I took him to breakfast at one of Dads favorite Petaluma spot. Then, a bit of stocking up at Target – England’s great, but you just cant find Hot Tameles in the UK!

8.18 We had another Hawkins golf outing under the redwoods at Northwood, in the brilliant sunshine. Somewhat less brilliant were our golf scores, but that was all forgotten with the restaurant's classic southern chicken sandwiches and beers with Dad.





8.19 Emily and I had a day trip to SF, which was a blast. We started with a bike ride along the bay, then over the Golden Gate Bridge, followed down to Sausalito for my favorite lunch spot and their famous fish tacos. Using her feminine wiles, Emily was even able to finagle the recipe ingredients from the waiter - sneaky!



Then we caught the ferry back, and cycled to PacBell park, then up to the Mission for more of a wander, before rolling back to North Beach for a great Italian dinner at Café DeLucchi with some amazing food.



8.20 This was a day all about Memory Lane - Dad and I had a great driving trip through his old haunts in San Rafael, then out to Berkeley, where we headed up to a viewpoint near Lawrence Livermore with a gorgeous view of the Bay:



…then cruised through campus and fraternity row. It was a good time – just swapping stories of our Cal experiences, and over lunch at the classic grill the Smokehouse, we both agreed that the odds of Cal winning a Rose Bowl for the first time since the 50’s any time soon were grim.

8.21 Mom and I had a good day out in SF – checking out the amazing new Academy of Science museum in SF, complete with a rooftop energy saving garden:





…and a fantastic 3D movie about the comic/tragic life cycle of a butterfly.



A gander from the new De Young Museum’s observation deck was next, then we headed down to the Mission to show Mom around an area that charitably can be called multi-cultural and vibrant. Mom’s verdict? It was a bit too dirty and noisy for her, so we can headed out – exploring Bernal Heights and Diamond Peak. Dinner was another new experience for her, as we tried a good Vietnamese pho restaurant in the Castro, before heading home, tired, full, and happy!

8.22: My last weekend was fun, doing those critical "only in the US" types of things - eating at Taco Bell, hitting up REI, and so on. I had a great catch up with my second set of parents, the Brokaws, and then Farkas and Korren threw a "Mike's back in town" gathering - it was great catching up with a bunch of the high school guys.

8.23: A great last full day - I caught a ride to SF with my dad, and we cruised around the Presidio a bit, before getting dropped off at my friend Ben's flat. After that, the day was spent doing some world class 'faffing - walking down to the Marina, up through Fillmore where I came across a fantastic street funk band...



...and then my favorite sushi with Kate, Melody, and a bunch of friends at the inimitable Sushi Bistro! Perfect.

8.24 At long last, it was time to head back to London… I headed to SF, and had a good chat with my new boss at Monster, then a catchup with my former boss from Tickle. A last does of good Mexican food, then it was time to fly back to London. On the plus side? Friends, bitter ale, and actually earning instead of spending money.

The downside? A quick look at the forecast showed that London was bound and determined to welcome me back to a UK ‘summer’ – dark grey clouds and lots and lots of rain. Welcome home indeed - now time for a pint.

Dunedin to Christchurch

8/13 – 8/15: Dunedin to Christchurch:



Alas, ‘twas finally near time to say good-bye to NZ – I caught a bus up to Dunedin and we rolled in around 2. As a poor way of saying thanks for the hospitality (and tutorial in Settlers of Catan), I ended up cooking Dave and Drea dinner – a spicy tofu curry.



That sent me off to the local grocery store, which on the face of it, doesn’t sound all that exciting. But, it’s odd, but doing something so normal and non-touristy is always an interesting way to get a better sense for a place. For example, even a casual walk-through in the UK would reveal that this is a society that loves, loves, loves chocolate, crisps (chips), and beer, with aisle after aisle devoted to these ‘big 3’.

NZ was a little different. Prices were pretty steep, especially for the many things that had to be shipped down. Bell peppers for example, were about $3… EACH. Ouch. But, on the plus side, they had free microbrew tasting – shopping after all is thirsty work!

Dave and Drea rolled back around 6, and somehow survived my cooking, washed down with some ridiculously good Emerson’s London Porter beer, and the treat of having Ben & Jerry’s for dessert.

Some Settlers, then brainstorming with Drea about the upcoming wedding – they were really keen on coming up with ideas involving the kids attending, since really, what kid EVER thinks a wedding is fun?

The next day was more general faff about Dunedin – funny how you can come to feel so comfortable in a city so quickly. Another cappuccino and delicious muffin at my favorite café, then I ended up taking a bunch of photos of the Octagon and the local market.

I also gave into temptation and picked up a scarf and woolly hat made out of possum fur – incredibly soft and warm, as I had to keep reminding myself that travel would be coming to an end just as London finished began gearing up for another winter.

Dave came out for lunch, and we went (where else?) to Velvet burger – mango/chili/venison this time, and equally tasty. He also shared the news that Drea and he had a few job prospects back in the States, so it was possible that they might end up moving back sooner than they had planned. Exciting stuff!



Then it was ‘bye to Dunedin, and we all piled into the car for the longish road trip up to Christchurch. In a classic case of good timing, Drea ended up winning a bid for some sort of chicken on eBay (seriously), and had to pick it up.
That saved me a boring trip on the bus, and to make up for their car’s extreme lack of decent radio stations or music, Dave and I proceeded to promptly entertain Drea with bad renditions of “You Lost That Loving Feelin’” Good times.

Some more silly road games and driving past countless sheep, we pulled off for dinner at a random roadhouse. It was super friendly and had a pretty eclectic menu. Bless the Kiwis, they certainly are game for trying any cuisine, but our burritos and nachos were soooo not Mexican. Filling? Yup. Tasty? Sure. But without key ingredients like cilantro, salsa, and the like, it just wasn’t Mexican.

Hm – maybe we should call it Kiw-exican?

That night we all ended up staying at the Dorset Hostel – an immaculate place near the center. Clean private rooms for about 15 quid were a steal, and we ended up playing Settler with tea, with the Maori Kiwi classic “The Whale Rider” in the background.

Alas, the next morning, it was time to say goodbye to Dave and Drea, who were doing a day trip on the Tranzalpine Railway – a gorgeous train ride across the NZ Alps to Greychurch and back. Two weeks hanging out was pretty awesome – and it was only a short-term goodbye, as we’d all be back together for the wedding in October.
My last day in New Zealand was pretty cool. I got to explore Christchurch again, a city that’s pretty flat with regimented grid-based streets. While it doesn’t have the quirky charm of Dunedin, nestled up and between steep hills, it’s a good city to wander around.



Most of the morning was spent at their arts/craft center – a converted private school in the English style, with lots of grey stone and quiet green courtyards. Rather than raze it when the school ended, it’s now home to a great collection of craftsmakers and art galleries, plus some exceptional cafes. It surprised me, but before I knew it, I had spent over 3 hours just popping in and out of anyplace that looked good.




A stroll around the center brought back memories of the last time I was here in 2004; then it was time to head back to the hostel and grab my stuff for my flight.
The plan was to walk to the nearby bus stop and then to the airport. Simple, no?
But rather than just wait and get cold in the rain, I decided to just walk along the bus route figuring the next bus stop would be along shortly.

Nope. 30 minutes walk later, I was getting pretty gassed. And the classic Kiwi kindness kicked in again.

As I crossed a street, an airport shuttle taxi driver just waved me over. He took pity on me lugging my big backpack and day pack around, and ended up giving me a free ride to the airport. Sweet. Plus, turns out he had lived in the UK for awhile, so we ended up comparing notes.

Then at last, it was time to go… caught my flight up to Auckland and then off to SF – my four month journey was (sniff) nearly at an end!

Stewart and Uva Islands

8/12: Uva Island



There’s a lot to be said for having little to no expectations about a destination. Whenever you visit an icon like the Taj or the Pyramids, you have the possibility of reality not meeting your dreams.

But, Stewart Island was on the other side of the spectrum. I heard it was pretty with lots of birds, but that was about it. This left me in a position to be pleasantly surprised at every turn.

Uva Island was no different. It’s a unique natural heritage site, whose isolation by water has limited the epidemics of rats and other foreign animals spoiling the native ecosystem. Just recently, it was pronounced ferret and mostly rat-free; a major accomplishment.



What does that mean for the tourist? It’s a joy to just wander around. From lush rain forests that appear as they would 300 million years ago, to the constant bird calls, Uva is gorgeous – plain and simple.




I caught a motorboat out in the morning, and had a few hours mostly to myself, completing a circuit of the trails.

The grey skies and heavy foliage made both seeing the birds and taking pics hard, but you could definitely hear them:



… the layered plants were a blast to take photos, although I was kicking myself for not having a tripod.

The highlight though, was the common waka bird. Basically a very wild chicken, these native birds take curiosity to a new level, often walking right up to you, even up and over your shoes. The biggest challenge was trying not to scare them by laughing at their antics.






I had an hour to myself on the beach – with more waka and other local birds, plus a surprise of yet another great rainbow. Again, during the high season, it would be packed – but I had it all to myself. Perfect.

The threatening skies finally opened up so I beat feet back to the boat pier, and headed back to Oban. Forgoing the boring walk on the paved road, I had a great hike back along the coastal trail. After so much walking, beers and some hearty sausage and mash was just the remedy, then it was time to turn in, to head back up to the mainland and Dunedin.

Stewart Island, Part 1

8/10 and 8/11: Stewart Island

New Zealand is amazing. Pure and simple. From beaches to glacier to volcanoes, it’s got almost every type of landscape you can think of, and few more unique ones besides. Stewart Island is a last treasure of unique Kiwi-ness… an island sanctuary for so many of the country’s threatened species like the kiwi and a whole heap of other animals and plants.



I headed down there after Dunedin – my previous trip I had checked out many of the classic NZ sights, and something about the southernmost island intrigued me.
So, giving a Dave and Drea a break from too much sustained Hawkins cheesiness, I got into Invercargill the night before. Today was ferry time…

… alas, there was one small problem. Invercargill isn’t a big city but somehow I got confused about meeting the bus. A ridiculously friendly (like so many Kiwis) barber helped sort me out and called the tour company. The bright side was that I had time to grab an amazingly good raspberry frosted, cream-cheese filled muffin and a cappuccino at a local café. Starbucks could learn a few things!

The ferry ride itself was a stroke of luck. Stewart Island is reached across a strait that normally is really really choppy. And, (manly cough) while I’m as tough as the next guy, uh, my tummy ain’t. So I was already thinking that I might turn a few shades of green.

But, it all worked out and we pulled into Oban, the tiny town of 350 that’s the main settlement. Again, the off-season worked to my advantage – I was able to get a single room in the nice South Sea hotel for hostel prices. With a harbor view, and the town pub downstairs, I was set for some serious chilling out.


The first day was pretty relaxed – I ended up hiking to the local observation point, and even with the foreboding green skies, Stewart Island is a really pretty place.



A pub dinner and beers went down well – the pub has a very small town vibe; it was funny listening to the locals, as they grumbled and joked about the other inhabitants.

The next day, I had a bit of a lie-in before embarking on my slightly over-ambitious cycling/hiking trip. The plan had me renting a mountain bike, then heading out to the west coast trailhead for a few hour walk.

No problem except for two things. One – my biking legs were very out of shape, and two – Stewart Island is deceptively hilly, with constantly rolling terrain by the coast. And a bonus number three – I miss SF’s hill workouts; London’s flat terrain really don’t provide a challenge.

That all led to me being very very beat, very quickly.
But, it was all worth it – I had a good time exploring a local coastal inlet, with loads of ducks and other birds…



Then, passing several small groups of houses and beaches, I got to the trail. And gorgeous it was – winding its way along the coast, with a constant chorus of bird calls.



The trail started at a massive chain sculpture, symbolizing the ancient Maori story of Stewart Island being the anchor for the big land canoe of NZ.



A 45 minute walk took me to Little River, where I relaxed with a picnic lunch and a book before being chased off by some truly irritating sand flies.

On the way back, it was funny – I was feeling good at getting out of doors and some exercise, until I got passed by a bus of middle-aged hikers I had seen on the trail, who had smiles tinged with pity as they took in my near-walking pace.

Out of shape and out of gas, I turned in the bike four hours early, and then checked out the town… which amounted to a cool t-shirt shop that had the unusual operating hours of being open from 1-2:30 daily.

The afternoon brought an amazing rainbow – I was pretty excited and told the hotel staff. They were distinctly underwhelmed; I guess with all of the clouds and rain, they’re a daily occurrence.



Another pub dinner and beers, then it was time to turn in – the next day was a trip to the Uva Island bird sanctuary, bright and early…

Euro-Trash Party

I got my dates mixed around a bit and forgot something...

Before our Naseby adventure, Dave, Drea and I headed over to their neighbors for a EuroTrash party. The Kiwis do love their costume parties (oops - fancy dress parties in local parlance) so we had to give our best shot... as the ever so artsy "French Mustaches":



(Costumes and amazing paper cigarette holders - courtesy o' Dave)