Day 60 ~ Malta Part Deux

 March 10, 2022

54 degrees and sunny. 

NAUTICAL TERM OF THE DAY ~ Garbled

"Garbling" was the prohibited practice of mixing rubbish with the cargo. A distorted, mixed up message is said to be "garbled."

I finally figured out that the DH's new hair cut reminds me of Leroy Jethro Gibbs as played by Mark Harmon on NCIS!   

Yesterday was one of the best days on our voyage, but today was, well, garbled, filled with odd moments and off-putting incidents. It started with our tour guide, Maria, who greeted us with grumpy resignation and actually scolded the DH and I for taking the handicapped seat Viking had reserved for us on the bus. (I hated asking for this consideration, but it's awkward for us to get on and off the bus multiple times with my oxygen concentrator. Its so easy to catch the canula on armrests all the way down the aisle and Herkimer, my bigger POC we use on excursions because of its longer battery life, is heavy for the DH to wrangle in that narrow space.) Even after we showed her the Viking sign with our names on it, she climbed off the bus to go argue with the Viking representative about us. But she was sent back to the bus and evidently had been told to leave us alone because she stopped fussing at us. I'd say she reminded me of a cranky fifth grade teacher, but that would be an insult to cranky fifth grade teachers everywhere. 

It's nearing the end of Malta's rainy season. They receive about 23 inches of rain a year. At home in Missouri, we average 50 inches and sometimes more. The more I travel the more thankful I am for natural bounty of the US. 

However, Maria was not done fussing in general. Sadly, she was paired with Mario as our driver and it was apparent neither of them liked each other much. They argued in Maltese for about as much time as Maria spent speaking to us in English. It seemed she was telling him where to drive and he was telling her what to say. They might as well have been an old married couple who toughed it out for form's sake, not love. Neither of them seemed particularly pleased to be with us, their temporary children (I say children because we were talked down to so badly the entire time.) So after not being able to make two of our scheduled stops because of road construction, one to Marsaxlokk where the colorful luzzu--the fishing boats we'd seen in 2018--were anchored, and the Blue Grotto, a series of sea caverns, which we had not seen, I decided to give up on any sort of plan and make up my own excursion.

The name of my tour is "THIS IS HOW THE LOCALS LIVE!"

This photo is for my mom who's a dedicate rock hound. Of course, she's usually looking for pretty rocks. This limestone isn't pretty until it's used to make something else. This stone is the building material for virtually everything on Malta, from retaining walls to cathedrals. It's easily worked and can be ground and carved into finials and decorative columns with less effort than harder stone. It's a lovely buttery yellow and really gives the island sense of cohesive design.

This photo is for my dad who is always interested in gasoline prices. Don't get too excited about these numbers, Dad. Those are per liter and in Euros. The DH did some quick figuring and estimates the price to be a bit over $6.00 a gallon.

These two rocky islands are part of the 6 that make up Malta. Malta is the largest in the archipelago, followed by Gozo which is serviced by ferry service daily. There's another much smaller island between the two larger called Comino where only a brother and sister live. Then there are these two which are the site of St. Paul's shipwreck on the island. Since most of the island is Roman Catholic, this landmark is a source of pride and veneration. We saw the last island in the chain briefly but didn't manage a photo as our bus sped by. It looked like a tabletop of rock with sheer sides. Only migratory birds make landing there. 

Our actual tour with Maria broke into my private reveries when we stopped at Salina National Park, where we were welcomed with a bottle of the local soda--Kinnie. Let me try to describe the flavor. 

It's based on oranges, but don't conjure up memories of Orange Crush. Kinnie is bitter with a hint of some kind of herbs. If it weren't a soft drink, it might be considered a mouthwash.

It's an acquired taste.

Then we reboarded our bus because another group's guide ordered them all to go back. Honestly, I thought it was Maria. The gruff voice and irritated manner were exactly the same. 

Perhaps she has a sister.

As we rode along, I noticed that many Maltese homes had name plaques instead of numbers, some of them quite highly decorated or in a curly font. This simple one reads "Alex Here."  There was a lull in the guide's patter, so I asked Maria about the many signs. She explained that it's an old custom on Malta to give your home a name. Usually, the name of a saint is chosen, or something to do with the career of the householder, or if it is a young couple especially, an amalgamation of their two names. That would make our house either "Briana" or "Drian." 

It seems a lovely custom, and I'm in the habit of giving names to inanimate objects. My Portable Oxygen Concentrators are Herkimer & Percy. Our van is HAL, after the smart computer in 2001:A Space Odyssey. The truck is Big Red. What name should we give our home?

The DH suggested Haven of Rest, but I nixed that on account of it sounding much too funereal. It is a Haven for a us, place of peace and safety and comfort, but I want to give it some more thought before we settle on a name. And thinking about home reminded me of the people we love there. My friend, Donna, came to mind. This wonderful woman is always full of joy. It lifts me up just to be near her. And she's a fount of wisdom as well. One of the most profound pieces of advice I've ever heard in my life came from her:

"Assume best intent." 

 Simple idea. Not so easy to implement. Remembering it made me reassess my attitude about this tour.

I don't know Maria's life. She may have a loved one with serious mobility issues and my dependence on supplemental O2 may not rise to her standard of needing special consideration. If being a tour guide is her career, she's been without work for some time. It's natural that she might be a little off her game. If she was upset about something else, it would be easy for that suppressed anger to spill over onto us. People, myself included, sometimes misplace resentment onto someone who is "safe" for us to fuss at. We vent over here about something over there. 

So when we climbed off the bus for the last time, I tipped Maria the same amount we've given all our other tour guides. She seemed appreciative.

And a little surprised.

We continue to have terrible (read: often none at all) internet. This post is being uploaded because my clever husband knows how to create a hotspot with his phone. So even though I'll be writing more soon, it may not always be uploaded right away. 

What would you name YOUR home?