My New Life in Malta

Currently we are celebrating the Jewish holiday of Hanuka, the festival of lights. There is a religious component, celebrating a miracle, and a historic component, celebrating the freedom to celebrate one’s religion. So I wish everyone a happy hanuka! Incidentally, this is actually one of the minor Jewish holidays, but due to it falling around November/December it has become one of the most popular ones, especially among the children who now insist on receiving gifts just like their Christian friends are getting. Nothing like commercialistic consumerism to unite us all!!

I mentioned in an earlier posting that the synagogue here in Malta is right next to a street where prostitutes sell their services. Normally I hardly notice them, and it took a few weeks for me to realise that these were not just women who happened to be standing in their doorways. This is because normally they are dressed quite plainly. However, last night (perhaps because it was night-time) they were all dressed up in unmistakable attire. As I was walking by, I actually received a proposition! I was waiting to cross the road, and I heard “psssssst” from a young lady in shiny tights standing across the road. I found the situation very amusing. I really wanted to say something polite, but the words did not come to me fast enough. Coincidentally, I had to look in her direction to see if there was on-coming traffic before I could cross the street, so she thought I was turning to look at her. This prompted a longer and double “pss-pssssssssst” which I found even more amusing. A few minutes later, many ideas came to mind as to what I could have said back, mostly something along the lines of “sorry, but I prefer men!”  However, a friend of mine once tried that line and he was told that could easily be arranged! On my way home I wondered why the synagogue decided on that particular location, considering that everyone in Malta seems to know that the prostitutes work in that intersection. A friend who lives nearby says he has become friendly with the ladies, and often chats with them on his way home as they discuss if they had a good day of work or not.

I came home to find our new gas heater up and running! YAAAAY! The flat is now much warmer and pleasant. I had no problem with the gas heater, but now M has put all these ideas into my head about how it could potentially explode. Well, what are you going to do, life is full of risks. At least I will die warm and cozy if it happens.

And now for more on the topic of language. Last night, the British High Commisioner (ambassador) to Malta was on television, giving an interview in Maltese. This was publicised ahead of time, as it is very unusual for an ambassador to learn Maltese, and particularly in the case of those who are English speakers. It was great to see somebody besides me struggling a bit to get the sentnces out, and it gave me courage to keep trying. What really ANNOYED me was the TV presenter. She was giving him that stupid look that I often get when I speak Maltese, a look which I could only describe as somebody watching a circus animal performing a cute trick. Bright eyes, sly smile, and waiting for it to be over so the conversation can go back to English. It is becoming a bit irritating. Just earlier that evening at the synagogue, I spoke some Maltese to one of the locals who then told his brother “diġà jitkellem bil-Malti w ilu hawn tlett xhur biss!” (“he already speaks Maltese and he has been here only three months”) which was followed by his brother talking to me IN ENGLISH about the Maltese language. I will keep trying, until somebody gives me a chance…