Some Maltese stats from the CIA World Factbook
Median age:
female 42.1 years (2014 est.)
Total Fertility Rate:
1.54 children born/woman (2014 est.)
They've got the European Disease.
~
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Friday, June 27, 2014
Gold and azure
Here's some pics I stole from Buzzfeed that show that golden heavenly radiance thing I was mentioning.
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We were taken out to dinner by some Maltese friends in Rabat, and then took a stroll through the gates of Mdina, the ancient capital of the medieval nobles.
Which really does look like this:
And this:
And we rounded a corner to see this:
Here it is in the not-so-dry spring, with the wild mustard in bloom all around.
(In case you're wondering why I'm not using my own photos, I actually... well... forgot my camera. Yep, that stupid.)
~
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We were taken out to dinner by some Maltese friends in Rabat, and then took a stroll through the gates of Mdina, the ancient capital of the medieval nobles.
Which really does look like this:
And this:
And we rounded a corner to see this:
Here it is in the not-so-dry spring, with the wild mustard in bloom all around.
(In case you're wondering why I'm not using my own photos, I actually... well... forgot my camera. Yep, that stupid.)
~
Close to heaven
I wasn't sure I would like it. I grew up surrounded by this:
So I was anticipating not really liking this too much:
All the pics and videos I looked at made me wonder the same thing. Are there any trees at all in this place? I've never lived in an arid or semi-arid climate. My American friend who came with me said that of course, as a Canadian, I would find such a desert-y environment a bit of a shock, and it was. But the photos and videos don't do justice to the place. And yes, there are trees, but not as many as I'm used to, and with so little water they don't grow very tall. The umbrella pines I'm used to seeing here only grow about half the height of their Italian counterparts, but still taller than me and enough to create oases of shade. But it's true that Malta makes even dry Lazio look lush.
But one of the first things that hits you when you land is the colour. At first it strikes you as a bit monochromatic. The entire place, every single thing built by the hand of man, from palazzos to highway retaining walls to garden sheds is made of the local honey-coloured limestone that they quarry in several spots around the islands. It's very soft, coming off on your hands and clothes as a fine dust, that makes everything you expose to the air gritty within minutes.
The lady who gave us the tour of the Knights of Malta hospital told us that when you want to paint on it, either just housepaint or frescoes, you have to treat it with oil to seal it first. And I spent a lot of time wondering how you dealt with the dust at home, which must simply pervade life in Malta. If you wanted to set up a business in Malta, a good venture would probably be a vacuum cleaner repair shop, since I bet the stone dust clogs em up pretty good.
The few things that are painted really stand out because nearly everything is left its native, glowy honey colour. We travelled all over the islands by bus, and I think we saw one green house and one pink house. And the indication that the Maltese really love that stone is that in many cases, when things are painted, they're painted to match the original colour. It's obvious that things often get painted, apparently only with a really heavy, enamel style coating, just to seal it and keep it from coming off on your clothes.
When you first see photos of Malta it seems a bit dull, this single colour for everything. But when you get there, you find immediately that it just makes the whole place glow with a warm light, that it takes the harsh glare of the sun and turns it into a kind of heavenly radiance. Someone needs to do some kind of psychology study on the effect of the Maltese limestone colour on the brain. It can't help but have some kind of calming, cheering effect. There's no way that colour isn't good for you.
And you better get to like it because, especially in Valletta, you are entirely surrounded by it. They make the sidewalks, the buildings and the roads, out of it. All the churches, all the palaces, your hotel room... everything. Walking through the little narrow streets of Valletta, that often terminate in stairs, you are walking along in your glowy golden dream, and glance down the street and get a glimpse of the deep azure of the harbour...
It makes you understand suddenly why gold and azure are used in icons to depict heaven. And when the sun slowly sinks and the light calms, the colour warms your very soul.
...
Oh yeah, and we went swimming and snorkelling here:
Dwerja and the Azure Window, where the water, directly under that stone arch, is terrifyingly deep.
~
So I was anticipating not really liking this too much:
All the pics and videos I looked at made me wonder the same thing. Are there any trees at all in this place? I've never lived in an arid or semi-arid climate. My American friend who came with me said that of course, as a Canadian, I would find such a desert-y environment a bit of a shock, and it was. But the photos and videos don't do justice to the place. And yes, there are trees, but not as many as I'm used to, and with so little water they don't grow very tall. The umbrella pines I'm used to seeing here only grow about half the height of their Italian counterparts, but still taller than me and enough to create oases of shade. But it's true that Malta makes even dry Lazio look lush.
But one of the first things that hits you when you land is the colour. At first it strikes you as a bit monochromatic. The entire place, every single thing built by the hand of man, from palazzos to highway retaining walls to garden sheds is made of the local honey-coloured limestone that they quarry in several spots around the islands. It's very soft, coming off on your hands and clothes as a fine dust, that makes everything you expose to the air gritty within minutes.
The lady who gave us the tour of the Knights of Malta hospital told us that when you want to paint on it, either just housepaint or frescoes, you have to treat it with oil to seal it first. And I spent a lot of time wondering how you dealt with the dust at home, which must simply pervade life in Malta. If you wanted to set up a business in Malta, a good venture would probably be a vacuum cleaner repair shop, since I bet the stone dust clogs em up pretty good.
The few things that are painted really stand out because nearly everything is left its native, glowy honey colour. We travelled all over the islands by bus, and I think we saw one green house and one pink house. And the indication that the Maltese really love that stone is that in many cases, when things are painted, they're painted to match the original colour. It's obvious that things often get painted, apparently only with a really heavy, enamel style coating, just to seal it and keep it from coming off on your clothes.
When you first see photos of Malta it seems a bit dull, this single colour for everything. But when you get there, you find immediately that it just makes the whole place glow with a warm light, that it takes the harsh glare of the sun and turns it into a kind of heavenly radiance. Someone needs to do some kind of psychology study on the effect of the Maltese limestone colour on the brain. It can't help but have some kind of calming, cheering effect. There's no way that colour isn't good for you.
And you better get to like it because, especially in Valletta, you are entirely surrounded by it. They make the sidewalks, the buildings and the roads, out of it. All the churches, all the palaces, your hotel room... everything. Walking through the little narrow streets of Valletta, that often terminate in stairs, you are walking along in your glowy golden dream, and glance down the street and get a glimpse of the deep azure of the harbour...
It makes you understand suddenly why gold and azure are used in icons to depict heaven. And when the sun slowly sinks and the light calms, the colour warms your very soul.
...
Oh yeah, and we went swimming and snorkelling here:
Dwerja and the Azure Window, where the water, directly under that stone arch, is terrifyingly deep.
~
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Going native
Dear Italy,
I'm really starting to come around on this whole air conditioning thing. Stomping around in the searing heat of Valletta on Wednesday, then a couple of hours in an airconditioned airport and plane, and PRESTO! my back has totally seized up, like Greenland pack ice.
Last year, a Chinese doctor in Toronto told me that lots of people flying back from warm Hong Kong in freezing cold airplanes to Toronto, wake up the next day and can't move.
Get used to the heat. It works better and you'll be healthier.
~
I'm really starting to come around on this whole air conditioning thing. Stomping around in the searing heat of Valletta on Wednesday, then a couple of hours in an airconditioned airport and plane, and PRESTO! my back has totally seized up, like Greenland pack ice.
Last year, a Chinese doctor in Toronto told me that lots of people flying back from warm Hong Kong in freezing cold airplanes to Toronto, wake up the next day and can't move.
Get used to the heat. It works better and you'll be healthier.
~
Sunday, June 22, 2014
The octopus report
Saw another one. I'd gone for a late afternoon swim (late afternoon is still lovely and warm and sunny, but the UV won't try to eat me) and seen nothing much of interest. Just in it for the exercise after a couple of days at home. By the time I'd come back to the spiaggia libero, the shade of the buildings had almost covered the beach, so I decided to take a long walk to the other end, and catch the last of the evening rays.
When I got there, I'd only intended to sit and read my book and bask a little, but the water just looked irresistable, so I went for one last splash of the day. I had just walked in to barely waist deep and slid under and there it was right in front of me. This time it was a wee one, it's "head" not much bigger than my hand, and its legs all coiled up under it so it looked like a rock. One of its legs, though, was turned over and I spotted the telltale red with a row of white suckers.
They're amazingly hard to see when they don't want to be, but I hung there in the water looking down and slowly its shape resolved into its big baggy head-thing, with the siphon holes pulsing water in and out, and a pair of eyes watching me with undivided attention.
It didn't move. I decided to try to outwait it, but it still didn't move. I was starting to get cold, so after diving down a few times to get a closer look, I thought I'd see if it would react if I were closer. I carefully placed my foot a few inches from its hiding spot under a rock ledge. I didn't move, and ever so slowly, it uncurled a single tentacle and reached delicately out to take a little taste. The tiny tip of the arm touched the toe of my neoprene footie, felt around to see if it was something good to eat and then withdrew.
It was SO cute! I got out of the water with a sense of having accomplished a feat of interspecies communication.
~
Oh yeah!?!! Come at me, see what happens...
Just had the following via that aptly named app.
@RobertH1946 That should be evident from everything I've written for the last fifteen years. Try to keep up.
— Hilary White (@Hilarityjane66) June 22, 2014~
Saturday, June 21, 2014
I've FINally figured out what Twitter is for
Adam Baldwin and William Shatner arguing over the correct use of "whom" in a sentence about punching bad guys.
Also, this
I've died and gone to internet heaven!
~
“@old_critter13: @WilliamShatner Kirk sure punched out a lot of people in StarTrek.” /me points to @AdamBaldwin. Compared to WHO?
— William Shatner (@WilliamShatner) June 21, 2014@AdamBaldwin Actually it's WHO because it is the subjective not the objective.
— William Shatner (@WilliamShatner) June 21, 2014Also, this
“@STALINSLAPSHOS: @LAKings dude I want a picture of Captain Kirk with the cup.” they asked me to sign it. pic.twitter.com/xEa1QCkigr
— William Shatner (@WilliamShatner) June 20, 2014I've died and gone to internet heaven!
~
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Jam-jar naturalist
Brought a big hinge-lid jar to the beach today and brought home three mature Dog Whelks in it. They're incredibly cool when you can observe them without being interrupted by the sea.
And they're festooned with eeny weeny bryozoans.
When I'm done looking at them, I'm considering popping them in the steamer to see if they're any good for lunch.
~
And they're festooned with eeny weeny bryozoans.
When I'm done looking at them, I'm considering popping them in the steamer to see if they're any good for lunch.
~
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