Syracusa (Terry)

We sailed from Porto Palo after a slightly disturbed night (wind across swell) and made good time to start with – wind was off our beam at about 20 and we made 5s to 7s for quite a while before it quit on us.  On with the noisemaker before the wind returned.  Unfortunately it was a Noserly so it just made the motoring uncomfortable as we had to head out directly in to it to avoid a no-go nature reserve that two other yachts didn’t seem to give a stuff about.  When we turned after clearing the corner of the reserve we had 20 knots on the forward side and turned off the engine to sail into the Grand Harbour of Syracusa.  Sailors have been coming into this harbour for thousands of years so we were probably boat number 1 squillion and twenty.

 

Entering Syracuse harbour

 

It is magnificent and when we arrived I saw a yellow boat in the distance.  It was Benoit, our friend from Monastir with his family and Guy and his family in front of them!  Off to the port was Eric, the solo French sailor we spent time with in Monastir, Lampedusa and in Malta.

 

Benoit, Flo and family aboard Baba

 



Wonderful.  Off we went to the market this morning – one of Europe’s best.  Got two large Sole for dinner – cleaned and skinned in front of us, €7.  Fresh baked ricotta, €4.  Stuff, stuff, stuff.

 

Then we walked all over town trying to find the Immigrazione (about time we behaved ourselves).  I think we are rare and nobody bothers because we got sent all over the place from Guardia Costiera to Immigrazione and finally to the Polizia Frontiere.  They were excited that we were there and about 5 of them came out to see us.  The man we were dealing with took our passports to stamp and came back and told us “Special stamp, Syracuse” and indeed it was, a Syracuse stamp in the passports.  Shook hands all round with him and his boss and off we went.  Legal!

We dinghied back later in the evening and went for a wander on the promenade.  We wound our way up the stairs to the Cathedral but couldn’t go in for a stickybeak because there was a wedding under way.  We went across the piazza a few metres for a drink and sat outside with children kicking soccer balls, kids riding bikes with dogs chasing them and a very accomplished accordion player entertaining us all.

The bride came out of the church to an honour guard and the whole square erupted in applause.  She was impossibly beautiful, and his nibs was just the picture of elegance and charm (possibly a little pride in there also?)  Off they went for a promenade to the north for a while, then they sauntered back for a promenade to the south and departed.  All the stuff of romance novels and movies.
 

Everyone in the bar switched from beer and wine to Aperol Spritz.  Although I have resisted being a trendy in the past, this seemed like a good trend to follow and a pleasant glass it was too.

 

Across the way, a couple of old-ish nuns came out of the Cathedral admin doors.  All at once, the group of children kicking the ball around ran over to the older of the two for a hug and a kiss.  They genuinely fussed over her and she hugged and kissed them all.  They went back to their game and the two nuns wandered off across the front of the Cathedral and another group of kids spotted them.  Same deal, they all ran over to the older one of the two for hugs and cuddles and kisses.  She must be somebody special because they all ran to her, boys and girls alike.

We wandered through the old streets for a while and then returned to our dinghy to get back to the boat.

What a wonderful city this is.

Next day was not so pleasant with some savage southerlies so we all kept our heads down.  We went into town for a visit to the Archimedes Museum (he lived in Syracusa) and a visit to the Fonte Aretusa for a Geocache (through a small aquarium which was nice).  We found a small deli for lunch and had afor €1.70 each.  They were the best arancini we have ever had anywhere. (they were a Sicilian invention)  I also discovered a beer made in Sicily called Ceria, which was twice the price of the arancini!  But it wasn’t bad at that.

One of my favourite TV characters, Inspector Montalbano, is a well known arancini lover and has contributed to the popularity of the dish.  I was very excited to see a TV Weekly type magazine in Malta that announced yet another season of Montalbano with almost all the original characters.  He is placed in the Ragusa area, where we are likely to spend next winter so I can see all the Montalbano places – there was a book in the bookshop we went into yesterday all about the series, with all the common scenes from the TV show.

Enough fantasy stuff.  Today we went to town to get some wine.  We were told by our friend Rene that there was a wine retailer over the bridge near a florist by the church with the round front (but not the ugly new monster church in Syracusa).  Off we went to find this purveyor of fine wines.

He is located in a small shop near two mechanical repair shops with a handpainted sign advertising different wines.  Inside are about 10 massive hogsheads with labels on them advertising the wines within.  The old man’s name is Sebastiano Russo.  We tasted a couple and bought 2 litres of a red for €3.20 and two litres of a white for the same.  He fills up used 2 litre water bottles for you to take.  4 litres for €6.40?  Of a three year old red and an aged white.  He also gave us a sample of a dessert wine that we will go back for – that was upmarket stuff at €3.20 a litre.

Then we wandered back over the bridge to the old city, picked up our laundry (€10 for 8+kg) and sat on the quay to have a couple of beers before dinghying back to Common Sense.

This is a nice place to be, for sure and certain.

 

Gozo Rocks

We seem to be establishing a pattern here: 1. go to a place we’ve barely heard of with a plan to stay a couple of days. 2. Get caught by a boat malfunction or bad weather. 3. End up staying for a few weeks, with the positive side being that we get to really explore the place properly. Well, that has happened again here in Gozo, Malta’s smaller sister island just a little to the north west.

Santa Marija Tower

 

We sailed over here on a pleasant day and wandered around the coast a bit looking for a good anchorage. St Niklaws Bay on the tiny island of Comino (between Malta and Gozo) offered the best protection from the wind, so we settled in there and spent the next day checking out Comino Island. There isn’t a lot to it, apart from the spectacular views of the other islands and the famous Blue Lagoon, which is indeed very blue. We hiked up to the Santa Marija watchtower, the “guardian of the Gozo Channel”, built by the Knights of St John in 1618 as part of the system of inter-communicating towers across the Maltese Islands. The main role of these towers was to guard against the very real threat of Turkish invaders and Corsair pirates. In 1551, the formidable Turkish admiral Dragut Reis had carried off virtually the entire population of Gozo (about 5000 people) as slaves. The tower has been beautifully restored and is well worth a visit. Apparently it came at an environmental price, however: Grand Master Alof de Wignacourt originally paid for it by selling all the wood on Comino, which is now nothing but limestone heath, sustaining a population of four.

At one time several farming families lived on Comino, and, in keeping with Malta’s identity as ‘more Catholic than the Pope’, they had their own church. When the weather was too bad for the priest to cross the channel, Mass was conducted through a system of semaphore flags from the church in Mgarr.

Dwejra

Well, for us the wind arrived on cue with worse to come, so we headed over to Mgarr, Gozo’s fishing harbour, ferry port and marina. The marina is a work in progress, but it’s really nice and will be even better when all the work is finished. The staff are particularly helpful docking boats and ensuring that everyone is safe when the weather turns ugly. As I write, it is so ugly that nothing is visible from our boat – the air is completely whitish-pink with sand – where normally you can see for miles across to Comino and Malta (I don’t know how the Comino Catholics would manage Mass under these conditions – bells or foghorns perhaps?) We’ve been told to expect winds upwards of 50 knots, so everything is battened down.

Onto my rock theme. People say that rocks are Malta’s only natural resource, and Gozo is similar, though it does have some pretty farmland in the valleys between the rocks, and Gozo is famed for cheese, tomatoes, honey, capers and wine. The most eye-catching rock is the beautiful honey-gold globerina limestone. It is soft enough to be carved easily, as demonstrated by the facades of many homes both old and new, and especially by the churches. Of course this also means that it weathers quite quickly, so many old carvings have lost their definition. Nature too is a great sculptor of stone on these islands.

Walls in the Citadel, carved by the wind

Typical house front stonework

 

Stonemasonry must be a kind of instinct for Maltese. When we went to have a look at the famous red sand beach at San Blas, it was blowing a howling gale. But there on the beach, groups of sunbathers had built themselves neat little dry-stone windbreaks. Gozo must have thousands of kilometres of rubble walls interlaced across the countryside in an attempt to retain the soil. And of course stone has been used for protection too – so it’s not surprising that, when a Maltese bloke sees a rock he has a strong urge to put it on top of another rock.

Sunbathing fort at San Blas

Then there are the most mysterious and fascinating rocks of all – those of the Ggantija temples, largest of Malta’s megalithic ruins with some stones over 6 metres high. These are the oldest known free-standing structures in the world, dating from 3600 BC. Very little is known about the people who worshipped at the carved stone altars, but you can stand there on the crest of the hill overlooking most of Gozo and try to imagine someone doing the same thing back in the dawn of human history.

Ggantija temple

Old Friends and New

We were really impressed with the ANZAC Day service in Malta.  Attended by the President of Malta and ambassadors from France, Italy, Greece, Spain, Japan, The Netherlands, Germany, China, Turkey and the High Commissioners from The UK, India, Canada, Australia and New Zealand as well as military and community representatives, it was held in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Pieta. 231 Australian and New Zealand servicemen are buried here, most of them young men sent to hospitals in Malta after being wounded in battle in World War I.  They never made it home, and almost a century later it is still a sad and humbling experience to read the inscriptions on their graves.  The Australian High Commissioner spoke very movingly, reading from a letter sent home by one of these young soldiers.  The Turkish Ambassador quoted the famous words of Kemal Ataturk, wreaths were laid and we observed a minute’s silence followed by a rousing rendition of “Abide With Me” by a Maltese choir.  Afterwards we enjoyed a reception at the High Commissioner’s residence.

As you might recall, we were invited to the service by Victor Platen who works at the High Commission, and happened to notice our flag.  We met some more Aussies at the service, in particular Carol and Sean Richardson who had a wealth of valuable ideas and advice about things to enjoy in Malta, and were kind enough to invite us around for a family meal of traditional Maltese food, including a delicious rabbit pasta.

Another new friend turned up in a Brazilian-flagged yacht in the slip next to us in the Msida Marina. Elio Somaschini is sailing his Beneteau First 40.1 solo around the world.  A physicist and successful entrepreneur, he decided it was time to educate himself about the “human and cultural side of life” – and what better way to do it?  He is a fascinating character, full of entertaining stories and a true scientist’s curiosity.  He is now on his way to Lampedusa, then Tunisia.

And then there are old friends.  Back in the early eighties, we lived at Currie Hall, one of the residential colleges of the University of Western Australia where I was a Masters student and tutor. There were students there from all over the world, including an engaging young fellow with a mop of curly black hair – Tano Role, a geography student from Malta.  We got to know Tano well through the UWA Scuba Club and his association with a bunch of famous reprobates who shared a unit in C-House.  Well, here we were in Malta, where it seems there are at most two degrees of separation, so it was time to track him down.  First contact was a young guy who came to fix our AIS.  He’d been taught geography by a Dr Role and thought he might now be at the university.  Yes, there he was on the staff list, but without a photo… Next contact was a trio of sisters whom we met at the Australian High Commission when we called in to get some documents signed.  Ah yes, they had a brother working in the Biology department at the university, they would ask Mario… After a few more twists and turns, Mario found Tano, who emailed us, and shortly after, there he was on the dock ready to join us for lunch!  The curly hair was a little bit whiter, but it was unmistakeably our friend from 35 years ago!  We had a wonderful time reminiscing and finding out more about this amazing country, from the inside.

Tano and his wife Sharon, and their boys Alex and Stephan, live in a beautiful home in Zurreiq, just a few hundred metres above the famous Blue Grotto. Of course they designed it with the sun, wind and water in mind, and the bonus is a view that takes in a great sweep of the island.  Tano has installed a large solar system on the roof to sell power back to the Malta Energy Dept, (Enemalta would you believe) and has a water collection system under one his side buildings.  Tano’s field at the University is Soil and Soil Erosion in the Mediterranean.  He travels widely around the Med and was also a Ministerial Adviser for a time. Sharon is a chemistry teacher.  The house is huge and magnificently appointed.  The high balcony is apparently great for watching the endless fireworks competitions and displays that are a big part of Maltese life. Tano’s theory is that people have a subconscious nostalgia for the relentless bombing of the Siege of 1941-2, and perhaps even a race memory of the centuries of explosions before that.  We enjoyed a couple of great family meals, including fish couscous and a delicious broad bean dish called kusksu.  We spent one day at home with them entertained in high style, and then Tano took us on a tour mid-week when he had no lectures.

There is a lot to see and do here. In the interests of brevity I’ll try a sort of condensed photographic journal of some of the highlights.

Tarxien Temples and the Museum of Archaeology

We’re talking serious history here. The oldest of these temples dates from 3600 BC, making it older than Stonehenge or the Great Pyramid.  I had expected to have to use a lot of imagination on a few stone circles, but this is a clearly visible temple complex, with skilfully worked stone joinery and carved surfaces. The means by which the stones were moved are also evident – perfectly round boulders and the tracks in which they were contained – the first roller bearings?

Artefacts from this and other ancient temples are housed in the Museum of Archaeology. The most extraordinary are beautiful stylised women, popularly known as “the Fat Ladies”, probably icons of fertility goddesses.

Marsaxlokk

This is Malta’s ‘other’ harbour, and its main commercial and fishing port. There are some touristy markets here, and a row of good fish restaurants along the waterfront, but the best thing is all the activity on the water, especially the colourful Maltese fishing boats with their watchful eyes.

 

Vittoriosa

This is one of the “Three Cities” that occupy the fingers of land extending into Grand Harbour across from Valetta. It is a picturesque old town with narrow streets and traditional balconied houses, and a fine marina where some seriously classy boats hang out. There is an excellent maritime museum, and also the Inquisitor’s Palace. The Inquisition was not so brutal here as in Spain, though there is a prison and a torture chamber. Apparently the Inquisitor’s main role was that of referee between the Knights and the Maltese Catholic hierarchy.  It was a bit of a stepping stone to greatness as something like 23 of the Inquisitors went on to become Cardinals and of those, 2 became Pope.  One of the Inquisitors’ roles was to instil a great devotion in the Maltese.  This sure worked as Tano said one of his friends passed a comment about a Patron Saint’s statue in his (his friend’s) wife’s suburb and she was outraged and refused to speak to him.  Every suburb has a Patron Saint (big festival on the Feast Day) and a Second Patron Saint (smaller festival).

Inquisitor's throne

 

The War Museum and “The Fortress Builders”

“The Fortress Builders” is a new display, built into the old fortifications near where the Sliema ferry docks in Valetta. We dinghied over from Msida and tied up at the old wharf where the Knights’ ships came to unload dutiable goods.  We walked up the hill through what was the old main gate to Valletta and came upon a new museum – the Fortress Builders.  We were shown around by an enthusiastic young guide named Pol who gave us new insights into Fortress Malta and how its towns and harbours have been shaped by evolving technology. After this tour, the structures we saw everywhere were much more meaningful.

The war museum is mostly concerned with Malta’s experience of World War II, where it still holds the record as the most heavily bombed area on earth.

Maltese camouflage - rubble pattern

 

Coastal scenery

Spectacular views of the countryside and the ocean from various places, especially the Dingli cliffs in the south west.  Tano took us to some rarely visited places not on the tourist trail where Bronze Age peoples had a fort of sorts, with water and food cisterns hewn out of the rock, and also down a gully to sea level where he and his friends from his Dive Club go cave diving in some deep caves.

 

Back to the New Friends, a UK flagged Hunter Legend, Moonglade Horizons, pulled in alongside us the day before yesterday and on board are two Australians, Ray and Lainey from Sydney and the Whitsundays.  Great to spend some time with them and their friends who called in also.

To top it all off, we were supposed to leave Malta for Gozo on Saturday morning.  However, we delayed to Monday and were wandering along The Strand in Sliema when we ran into our friends from Monastir, Benoit on Baba and Guy on Skaf IV!  Had no idea they were even there, and thought that Benoit had headed West to the Atlantic anyway.

It’s an interesting life.

 

More Malta

Malta sits right in the centre of the Mediterranean, a day’s sail from Tunisia and from Sicily, thus forming a kind of bridge between Africa and Europe.  It has been inhabited by humans from Neolithic times, and the remains of about a dozen stone-age temples and burial complexes are still in pretty good condition considering they’ve been around for over 5000 years.  Sadly you have to book months ahead to get into the Hypogeum, a huge Neolithic burial chamber complex, but you can see the three-chambered temples, in various stages of decay, in various parts of Malta and the northern island of Gozo.  In the Museum of Archaeology in Valetta, artefacts from the sites are housed, including the mystical fertility goddess figures known affectionately as the ‘fat ladies’.

Fishing boat in Marsaxxlok



The island was later colonised by the Phoenicians and governed from Carthage (in modern Tunisia).  The brightly coloured Maltese fishing boats with watchful eyes on their high prows are apparently the descendents of the Phoenician trading vessels that once abounded throughout the Med.  Rome took over when they finally destroyed Carthage in about 150 BC.  A key event in Malta’s history was the arrival of St Paul, who was shipwrecked in 60 AD on the northern coast on his way to Rome to stand trial (he was found guilty and martyred there later).  So persuasive was Paul that the Maltese remain staunchly Catholic to this day, despite about five centuries of Arab rule, which certainly influenced other aspects of the Maltese language and culture.  There are two cathedrals, dozens of major churches, hundreds of small chapels and a saintly icon on just about every street corner and housefront.   Most of the older churches have two clocks, one with the correct time and the other with the incorrect time, to fool the devil so that he doesn’t know what time Mass will be.

Church at the end of the street - this one is in Mosta,made  famous for when two bombs bounced off the dome during a Mass in 1942. A third bomb pierced the dome, but rolled down the aisle unexploded...

From the 11^th century on, the Maltese were burdened with various rulers – Normans, Aragonese, Castillians – and beset constantly by Turks and Barbary pirates.  Many of the older towns were built on hilltops well inland to guard against these depredations.  Mdina, the old capital, is a beautiful example with its golden limestone city wall winding around the hillside and its narrow streets and balconied residences very little changed from the Middle Ages.

Along with Eric from Tiger and Olivier and Lauren from Hephaistos, we visited Mdina for the town’s annual Medieval Festival.  If you set aside all of us gawping, camera-toting tourists, much of it was pretty convincing stuff: authentic-looking armour and weaponry, clothing styled to that worn by the various factions of the city, skilled drummers and other musicians, falconers, priests and villagers – even a dead-cart for plague victims and a band of heretics chained up ready for the fire. Monty Python jokes proliferated. Stalls sold souvenirs and local fare.  Then what should we spy doing a brisk trade in a corner of the square but a purveyor of  that wondrous Medieval instrument, cousin to the lute and the virginals – yep, you guessed it, a didgeridoo stall! Every single country we’ve visited has had gum trees and she-oaks (aka Australian Pines), and now it appears the didge is infiltrating as well.

 

 

Well, next up in the Maltese chronicle came the Knights of St John, in 1530.  They had been driven out of Rhodes by the Turks and were granted Malta by the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V for the rental cost of two falcons per year (the Maltese, as usual, had no say in this arrangement).  By the time the Turkish attacked in 1565, the Grand Harbour had been partly fortified, but there were only 700 Knights and a force of about 8000 Maltese troops against the vast Turkish fleet.  Assistance from the Empire was slow, and slight.  The siege was protracted and brutal.  The Turks tried to demoralize the defenders by nailing the headless bodies of dead knights to crosses and floating them back into the harbour. The Maltese responded by beheading their Turkish prisoners and firing back the heads as cannon balls.  Finally a relief force arrived from Sicily and the Turks retreated to their galleys in St Paul’s Bay, suffering heavy losses.

After the Great Siege of 1565, the new capital of Valetta (named for Jean de la Vallette, Grand Master and strategist-hero of the Siege) was built and, of course, heavily fortified.  Looking out from the ramparts anywhere in the small capital city, you just can’t imagine a successful attempt on the walls.  Vast blocks of limestone, many metres thick, piled to the height of small mountains; clever constructions that leave the enemy concentrated into tight corners or spread without cover, easy targets on open ground.  Terry described it as “a pleasure to defend.” And of course, there were opportunities for further Monty Python references (“Tell ‘im we already got one!”) from the commanding heights of the battlements.

Barakka Gardens -an awesome view over the harbour

Once the walls were up, building picked up apace within – churches, palaces, villas, and of course the magnificent St Johns co-Cathedral (‘co’ because there was already a cathedral in Mdina). Vast and ornate as we’ve come to expect, for me this cathedral had two highlights. The first, of course, is the fact that the entire floor is paved with elaborate inlaid marble slabs, under each of which lies the body of a Knight of St John, slain in battle. These slabs typically have the knight’s details and a Biblical verse in Latin, a heraldic device and decorations such as angels or the memento mori, a skull or skeleton to remind us to have our souls always in a fit state, as Death is ever present. The second highlight is the pair of spectacular Caravaggio paintings – The Beheading of St John the Baptist and St Jerome which just glow with light. His paintings herald a new order: every figure is profoundly human.  There are no cherubs, no haloes, no miracles; we have left the medieval for the modern world. Caravaggio himself was no angel, and these paintings were amongst those he created in an unsuccessful attempt at redemption for a murder he committed in an argument over a tennis match.

By the end of the eighteenth century, decadence had set in and the Knights had become corrupt and self-indulgent. Napoleon arrived in 1798 to water his ships, and, when refused, he conquered the islands with virtually no resistance from the Knights. When Napoleon’s ships left, just a week later, they were weighted down with art and treasure looted from the island’s churches. Most of it now lies on the seabed where Nelson defeated the French fleet at the Battle of the Nile. The French were so hated as colonial rulers that the Maltese people rose up and overthrew them; they didn’t want the useless Knights back, they wanted the British.

Malta became a highly prized base and staging post of the Empire , and later  was particularly important as a hospital island in World War I. A vital airbase and harbour in World War II, Malta came under relentless attack by German bombers and its supply lines were blocked at sea. This was the second Great Siege (1942) and their courage and endurance saw the entire population of Malta awarded the George Cross, which you can now see in the War museum. After a long period of difficult rebuilding and recovery, Malta became an independent nation in 1964. Although still part of the Commonwealth, with Queen Elizabeth as Head of State, this was the first time in history that the Maltese had governed themselves. They became a republic in 1974 under the colourful (ie barking mad) Dom Mintoff, then returned to parliamentary democracy in 1987, and joined the EU in 2002. The latest invasion seems to be hordes of budget tourists from colder climes, but this one is welcome, if the fast food outlets and Marks & Spencers stores are any indication..

Phew! Elements of this turbulent history are everywhere (though the only sign of Mintoff is a closed down Libyan travel agency), even in the tough, determined look of many of the people. We’ve taken a couple of bus trips around the island, and it isn’t hard to imagine the hardship of the wars, raids and sieges. The island is a lump of limestone with little fresh water and hardly any fertile soil. One guy told us that Malta was only rich in salt water, wind and rocks. Given the truth of this, the relative prosperity and vitality of the island is a credit to its people.

 

We are here for another few days until the wind settles down, then we'll head up to the island of Gozo, then on to Syracusa - at least that's the plan for the moment.

Malta

For the first few hours we had a decent wind behind us as we followed Hephaistos out of Lampedusa towards the island of Malta. Later we resorted to motor-sailing, eventually arriving in Grand Harbour, Valetta at 9.30 am. And grand it certainly is, with great fortress walls designed to withstand the relentless assaults the island has endured for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. The towers and domes of old churches rose above the other buildings, the whole city crafted from soft golden sandstone that glowed in the morning light, contrasting with the vivid blue of the deep harbour waters. The practicalities were not so wonderful, with a very high Customs Dock presenting a challenge for small craft, followed by an unproductive search for somewhere to park. In the end, we left the harbour and sailed around to St Julian’s Bay near the tourist hub of Sliema, where we dropped the anchor and finally had a good sleep. This turned out to be a very pleasant place to stay for a couple of days, enjoying the calm, clear water and the glorious sunshine which seems to be standard for this time of year.

Ashore the island has a welcome air of prosperity and it is also a great place to buy boat stuff and services. There are lots of chandlers, each offering a slightly different range of equipment at pretty reasonable prices. The technician pronounced a death sentence on our stove, but fortunately we were offered a good deal on an excellent replacement, which is due for installation today. Bonus: this one has a grill, so the cravings for cheese on toast are soon to be satisfied! We also had a team of very competent guys from Medcomms in to fix up our inadequately performing VHF/ AIS. They replaced a faulty cable and voila! High quality communications restored.

We’ve now moved over to Msida Marina, next to a huge old replica, Black Pearl, which seems to be used mainly for pirate parties, and overlooked by the various embassy buildings. A bonus here was that a guy from the Australian Consulate noticed our flag and came down to invite us to an Anzac Day reception.

Malta is just about dead centre of the Mediterranean, so as you might imagine, it is another place with a long history of conflict. Most famous have been the two ‘Great Sieges’ – the first where the Knights of St John defended the island from the Turks in 1565, and the second where the Maltese withstood a Nazi blockade and relentless bombing for almost two years in 1941-2. The whole nation was awarded the George Cross for bravery. Malta also has one of the oldest and best preserved Neolithic sites -  a huge underground necropolis and a mysterious trefoil-shaped temple, dating from about 3600BC. More historical detail in the next blog.

We had been told not to expect anything special in terms of food in Malta, and it’s true that lumpy English takeaway is endemic, but there have also been some real treats, such as Legligin, a small family restaurant in an atmospheric cellar where we had a great tasting plate of typical Maltese foods served tapas-style; in Sliema we found and excellent cheap Turkish restaurant, and Terry has managed to find some decent meat pies at last too.

Malta is yet another destination that we hadn’t really planned on, but it’s turned out to be lovely – perfect weather, glorious clear blue water, fascinating history and pleasant, obliging people (who speak English as well as the strange Malti language that sounds like Arabic spoken to the tune of Italian).

We left Monastir at last on the afternoon of March 28, and enjoyed ideal south-westerly winds for the first two-thirds of the short hop to the tiny island of Lampedusa. Common Sense scooted along at six knots as though she was enjoying being back on the open sea once again. Sideways chop made for a slightly uncomfortable passage, and I confess I had to feed the fish a couple of times before recovering my sea-legs. At about 4am the wind died and we motor-sailed the rest of the way, past the limestone cliffs and lovely azure bays into the harbour, arriving at about 9.30 am. Past the entrance, Lampedusa’s harbour is shaped like a trefoil, with a small anchorage and beach to the left, the main fishing harbour straight ahead, and to the right a sort of general docking area for ferries, unloading fishing vessels, Coast Guard etc. We headed into the right and tied up near some fishing boats until a friendly local taxi driver came along and offered to take us up to the Guardia to check in. They were also very friendly and jovial, saying we could tie up at the dock in front of their office, but no-one was the least bit interested in our passports or ship’s papers. One bloke pointed to a passport cover and asked where we came from; when I said Australia, he laughed and said, “All-a Europa same same, no problemo!” So there we were, ‘officially’ in Italy!

Docking in front of the Guardia was fine for a while, but when the swell came up a bit, we were being bumped against the concrete wall. Some French cruisers (Pascal and Barbara) came along and told us it was a rough place to stay and suggested we head around to the little anchorage, which we promptly did. This was much better - calm aquamarine water and a pretty white beach surrounded by small hotels and villas. Already we were enjoying the contrasts with north Africa: the colours and variety of buildings, the cheerfulness of the local people, the relative lack of litter, the delightful musicality of the language and now, beautiful young people in swimsuits (even bikinis!) playing on the beach. It was Easter Saturday and a holiday, so the town was quiet, but even so, the feeling of openness and freedom was palpable.

Later we welcomed some of our friends as they arrived – Rene and Christine, Laurent single-handing Caracal, and Lauren and Olivier on Hephaistos. The next couple of days were not so great, however: the winds strengthened and seemed to change direction totally every few hours. Our normally reliable anchor didn’t work so well as we swung around to all points of the compass, and we dragged a couple of times (always in the early hours of the morning, of course). Laurent and Olivier had both tied up to the rocks with a stern line as well as their anchors on the bow, and we now realised why. It had seemed an uncomfortable thing to do, putting themselves broadside to the swell, but at least they didn’t move. We have a lot to learn from veterans of the Mediterranean!

Eventually we all joined the exodus out of the anchorage and into the harbour, where we are now rafted up with Hephaistos, and enjoying the chance to explore the island. Lampedusa is the southernmost point of Italy, officially part of Sicily. Only about 4000 people live here permanently, though it is a popular summer resort, and the population has been swelled by boatloads of refugees from Libya, Algeria and also Tunisia during the revolution. The people of Lampedusa have been recognised for their generous and humanitarian treatment of these north African refugees. The island is also noted for its environmental initiatives – it is a haven for sea turtles, there are extensive wildlife protection zones on land and sea, and recycling is clearly fostered. On Wednesday we hiked about half-way around the island, enjoying the scenic coastline and the wonderful scents of sea air and wild thyme. Yesterday (Friday) we took the island bus with Lauren and Olivier out to Rabbit Island, a famous beauty spot with great views from the high limestone headlands and a really lovely beach. Once again, we did Australia proud, braving the freezing waters of the Med. Everyone has promised that it does warm up in summer!

There are strong winds expected tomorrow (Sunday) but the forecast looks promising after that, so with a bit of luck we should be in Malta early next week for a fortnight stay.

Beer Reviews #9

                                            The French know theirs is the best...

Olivier’s Hamburger.

This is how the French make a burger.  They are exquisite.  Had one in the Le Sauret Bistro on our recent trip to Paris.  Olivier has made these twice for our Sunday BBQ.

It is in with the beers because, along with Beer, Hamburger is one of the 5 major food groups that everyone needs to have a balanced diet, the others being Pizza, Chocolate and Ice Cream

Hamburger.  Use good meat, and make the pattie thick to stay juicy

Dice red onions, cornichon pickles, capers and lettuce and mix with some good quality mayonnaise.

Grill the meat and the inside only of the buns.

Spread Dijon mustard and ketchup or tomato sauce on the insides of both parts of the buns

Add some slices of tomatoes and crumble some blue cheese on the meat (will melt a bit).

Layer the bun with tomatoes, the pickles, mix and complete.

Beers in Paris

Affligem. 

http://www.affligembeer.be/

 One of the Abbey beers from Belgium.  Very nice, full of flavor with a smooth finish.  This is everywhere on tap in Paris and in the supermarkets in bottles also, very cheap.

 

Pelforth.

http://www.morgenrot.co/pelforth.shtml

Brown. Sweet. Caramel, maybe a bit of Peach. Owned by Heineken but French.  Used to be called Pelican but now “Pel” remains and "fort" added as it is strong in hops plus "h" to make it sound British for some reason.  Very nice indeed.

 

http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/03/19/case-study-the-pull-of-pelforth/

This is an in-depth review of the Brown (“Give a Pelforth Brown to thirsty men” was the slogan).

It even mentions a French hamburger!

Pelforth Blonde.  A bit lightish.  Not a lot of point in drinking it really.  Tastes a lot like Heineken, which I can’t stand.  At least it didn’t give me a headache like Heineken does.

 

L'Abbaye de Leffe. 

http://www.abbaye-de-leffe.be/-The-Beer-

Excellent.  Tried the Blonde, which is reportedly “light” but it’s still 6.6%! 

St Feuillien Blonde

http://www.st-feuillien.com/St-feuillienENG.html

 

Had this at the Academy of Beer ( http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/4482 ) which has been open since about 1960.  This was the best beer I had in Paris and in my top 10 beers of the world.  Wonderful stuff.

 

Delirium Tremens

http://www.delirium.be/en

http://www.delirium.be/delirium_tremens

 

I’ve had this before but I can’t remember where.  Maybe in Ft Lauderdale?  It’s a very powerful beer, running to 8.5%.  Nice, but the St Feuillien is better in my view.

Update on two German beers.

Becks.

I was a late convert to Becks, thinking (incorrectly) that it was a young person’s response to Corona i.e. something of a “trend” type beer.  I’ve had a lot of this here in Tunisia and it firms up as a great beer and one to be included when it is available.  We went to pick up a wine delivery in Tunis the other day, into a sort of a Bonded Warehouse, although it was actually a very very large yard.  There were 3 semi trailers loaded with cans of Becks.  While I was waiting I tried to calculate just how many there were on those three.  Don’t know – thousands and thousands.?  Tens of thousands? 

Heineken.

When I was young, this was one of the first real beers that you could get in WA apart from the rubbish that came out of the Swan Brewery (who had pulled the usual trick of buying a good brewery, Hannans, and promptly closing it down.  Must have made them look bad.)

 

At some point along the line, Heineken started putting some sort of preservative in the beer and I immediately began getting headaches from it.  It’s the only beer that does it to me and I now despise the stuff.  I took a bottle or two over to one of our neighbour’s boats, Renee.  He is a French connoisseur and is the one who organizes the wine here.  I offered him the Heineken, assuming it was only me who hated the stuff.  He apologized and said he couldn’t drink Heineken.  Full stop.  He just can’t stand it because gives him a headache.  I am now emboldened to state that it is just rubbish and belongs with Swan, VB, 4X etc.

Golden Brau

4.32%

Romanian.  Brewed there by Heineken Romania.  Brewed in Tunisia also by Heineken, which some readers may recall is not on my list of favourites. Nor is this.  It is golden and it is fizzy.  It is only mildly palatable because I’ve already paid for it.  I doubt I’ll be making that mistake again.