My New Life in Malta

I went to the bank and decided I would try to speak Maltese. I practiced the conversation in my head while waiting in line. But then when I got up to the window, the teller said “Hello, how can I help you?”… and then I got all tongue-tied. I could not make the switch.

The postman left a note saying there was a package for me and he would come back the next day. I promised to myself I would speak Maltese to him. Then, when I answered the buzzer, he rattled off in Maltese that he was from Malta Post and had a package for me but the last name did not match the name on the box. So I answered back… in English. However, he was puzzled when I came down to get the package, because I had understood him, and asked if I was Maltese.

Finally, last night I went down to the fruit vendor. Malta still has the charming old tradition of fruit vendors, who bring fresh fruit from their farms. It adds a touch of old world charm to an otherwise modern society. This time, I told myself, no excuses. And so I confidently asked, “għandek bananas?”  Well, those two magic words was all it took. M told me that once I get confident and am able to start conversations in Maltese, people will not think of switching to English, because they will assume I am not a foreigner. And so the woman brought out some green bananas and asked how many I wanted. Not able to express my dissatisfaction with them, I made a face that meant “ugggh, they are green!” and said “tnejn,” informing her I wanted only two. So she went off in a long explanation as to how they are almost ripe, and if I wrap them in plastic they will be good in a few days. I then piled on some tomatoes, apples, a cucumber, and went on my way. My first fully Maltese conversation. Granted, I said exactly three words, but it is a start.

Baby steps, every day.

The view out of the kitchen, living room and bedroom, here in the little flat, looks out onto a little valley. (I tried to post a picture but I cannot figure it out). It is a nature preserve area, so it guarantees that we will alway have a nice view. The little valley has a couple of old farmhouses, a small hunting lodge (small is the key word), and further down almost at the seafront, there are fields. A few days ago I noticed they had been covered in fertilizer (my nose alerted me) as I walked past. Yesterday I saw little green shoots coming out of the ground. I have no idea what they have planted, but I will know as the plants grow.

Just a few meters further is the sea. We cannot see it from the flat, because a luxury hotel blocks our view at the bottom of the valley, but it is less than a 10 minute walk down the hill from the front door to the Mediterranean. It is quite a contrast to look at the sea on one side, fields on the other, and in between a buzzing seafront promenade with people coming to and fro.

I wanted to take this opportunity to thank those of you who have commented and/or written in. It makes me happy to see that someone is reading the blog. If there are any topics you would like to see covered, or suggestions of any kind, e-mail away!

I was watching the Maltese news today. I find it easier than the other shows, because with the news you sort of expect what they are going to say (particularly if you cheat and you already watched the English news). Maltese TV can be a bit quaint, however. The studios are not so high tech, and every now and then there are technical glitches. To be fair, however, the BBC has glitches all the time as well.

Illegal immigration is a big topic here these days. Boatloads of immigrants (boatloads is a euphemism, as sometimes they are rafts or boats that barely float) come across the Mediterranean every day. Spain’s Canary Islands, southern Italy and Malta bear the brunt because of their proximity to the North African coast. In Malta the situation is getting particularly problematic. There simply are not enough facilities to house people. Keep in mind that the entire country is twice the size of Washington, DC. And the boatloads keep coming.

They cannot simply send them back. Many of these people are genuine refugees, fleeing persecution. And so, they are placed in detention centers for several months while their cases are processed. Geunine refugees are entitled to asylum under international law, while those seeking a better life for economic of other reasons will likely be deported. Under European Union law, the country where an illegal migrant arrives must be the one that processes his or her asylum application. And there lies the rub: most of the people arriving in Malta were aiming for the Italian coast. Most do not even know Malta exists, or the people arranging their clandestine journey told them they had reached Italy. So they do not want to be in Malta, stuck in a detention center for months. And the Maltese do not really want this problem in their hands. So everyone is unhappy.

Malta keeps appealing for help from the EU. After all, it is because Malta joined the EU that this problem has been exacerbated. Spain and Italy are clamoring for help too, but to put it simply, they have more room. Tiny Malta just cannot cope any more. This is, unfortunately, leading to some anti-immigrant rhetoric. It has not yet reached terrible proportions, but I see it heading that way. It is the same anywhere with large scale immigration… fear of being invaded, fear of “they” taking “our” jobs, and inevitably racist profiling.

I do not know what the solution is. But the status quo is not sustainable.

Yesterday was Yom Kippur, one of the most important Jewish holidays. I went to synagogue and fasted for over 24 hours. That includes no drinking too. I was afraid that walking in the heat would make things worse, but fortunately we had a relatively cooler day.

It turns out that the synagogue here is half a block away from the prostitute street. Several times I was told this, or to be careful when crossing that street, especially if it is dark. In life, in many ways I am sharp and observant, while in others I am completely clueless. This was one of those clueless instances, where I would have never realized that there were prostitutes around. In fact, as I walked home last night in the dark, I stood for a few seconds watching a woman at the street corner, trying to gauge whether she was a prostitute. I really could not make a definite decision in the end. In any case, this one guy who lives on that street told me that they are very nice, and he sometimes chats with them on his way home and asks how business is going. I guess when you live next door, they quickly stop offering their services. I have yet to be approached. Or maybe I was? In some things in life, I am clueless.

I checked my trusty new map book yesterday before heading out. I discovered that the reason I got lost the other day, was because the street I was looking for was not labeled. So I took a good mental picture: at the roundabout, go up the street with the palm trees. (Roundabouts and palm trees seem to figure prominently when I need landmarks).

M has asked me to clarify that not *all* shops close in the afternoon, and he would like to point out that he went grocery shopping yesterday around 2pm. He is right, not all the shops close. The big supermarkets, for example, stay open all day. But many many shops do close, including all the neighbourhood shops nearby.

My quest to learn Maltese continues. I asked M to speak to me in Maltese last night, and this worked for a good hour. This was exactly what I needed. In any other country I would have gotten enough practice by now to be gaining confidence in the language, but as long as people continue to speak English to me… still, I will continue trying.

Last night we went for dinner in the city of Mdina. It is quite something at night. The city is surrounded by a big moat (meant to protect the city from attack in the olden days) and only a few streets are big enough for cars. So most of the city is pedestrian only, and at night that means very quiet and fairly dark. It is a peaceful setting like we no longer see in our modern streets today, and a throwback to another era. The pizza was tasty too.

And the other night we saw a film at the Saint James Cavalier Centre for Creativity (Ċentru San Ġakbu Għall-Kreatività). It is part of the fortifications around Valletta, the capital city, which is competely surrounded by a wall. This wall then drops to the sea on three sides, and down into a moat on the side that touches land. This Cavalier was a sort of watch tower built into the walls. Today it has been transformed into a cultural centre for films, theatre and exhibitions. It is a really neat juxtaposition of the old stone walls and the modern additions. Just going in is half the fun.

And in response to some questions in the comments, “happy new year” in Maltese is “is-sena t-tajba” (the “j” sounds like a “y”), which is very similar to the Hebrew “shana tova.”