Dear readers,
Sorry for the delay. My brother paid us a surprise visit and we were “busy” enjoying the summer heat, the beaches and each other’s company. Now I’m back with weekly updates... enjoy!
Let’s kick off with a few follow-up notes:
1) The signposting issue at the garden: after yet another argument with two idiots who claimed they were “environmental wardens”, we contacted the local council again and ten days later, there they were: brand-new signs allowing our black beast into the garden, free to chase birds, scare off cats and poo and pee under every tree. Gizmo’s thrilled!
2) The waste collection problem: our bags are still picked up a little later than usual, but we work our way around that by putting them outside around noon, the best way to get rid of all the cockroaches invading the pavement...
3) Yet another fault: yesterday Melita broke down, not GO. The times are changing.
Now I’d like to offer you a full immersion into the secrets of Maltese summers.
Usually I go abroad, but this year I’m staying on the rock for lack of funds, courtesy of our new sofa, which SHOULD be delivered next week (one week before the agreed date, wow!).
Maltese summers are hot and by hot I mean boiling. Last weekend the temperature went up to 41.5°C. Since we don’t have A/Cs yet, I sought refuge in the shops round the corner and I ended up buying a DVD player. Hot weather = recovering economy.
The beaches are always packed, everywhere. The only way to avoid crowds, is to arrive on the beach at around 8 am at the very latest and leave around noon. As many people stay out late in the evening, they’re not so keen on waking up early. This “trick” resulted in many great mornings in Paradise Bay, Riviera, Golden Bay and Saint George’s Bay with my professional snorkelling set (that’s right, I spent more money on useless gadgets Andre’ refuses to be seen with).
Festa’s! Fireworks! Fried food! Maltese summers are all about partying, celebrating religious feasts, walking in the middle of the road holding fried dates in pastry (yuk) and admiring fireworks every night (and even during the day strangely enough). My brother didn’t get that. Neither do I. But let’s face it: the atmosphere is magical.
Al fresco dining, either in fancy restaurants (not this year) or on the balcony, surrounded by mosquitoes I try to repel with stinky citronella sticks. To no avail. The food, in turn, is mouth-watering delicious: home-made sushi, pasta with fresh octopus, tasty vegetable wraps... A good excuse to get rid of the scales.
It’s difficult to describe these great vibes. Malta is truly wonderful in summer. The travel guides don’t lie: Malta, my rock, truly rocks!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Technical faults... not a very creative excuse.
Last week Malta experienced a total blackout. We were left without electricity and water, since that is supplied directly from the reverse osmosis plant, which requires electricity... for ten hours and a half. That’s right! And the reason was the usual, inexplicable "technical fault". As workaholics, all Andre’ and I could think about was finishing translations and reports, missed deadlines and meetings... while everyone else was either at the beach or enjoying a candle-lit dinner on the balcony. Tonight our phone has gone dead. The customer care department of the phone company is closed, so there isn’t much we can do but report the fault and wait. As usual.
Looking back on all the “technical faults” I’ve experienced in my three years (already that long?!) on the rock, I’ve had my share of funny adventures...
When we first moved in together, in a rented flat, we immediately had Andre’s internet connection transferred from his parents’ house to our new (extremely small and ugly) “blue bubble” (I don’t know what got into us renting that thing, every single wall was painted baby blue). After three weeks of angry phone calls, the phone company realised there was still an active connection on that line, operated by a different provider. We tried to contact this provider, we even went to their offices, but there wasn’t much they could do: the previous tenant hadn’t paid his bills and had fled the country (turns out it was some Japanese wacko)... After lots of whining (that would be me!), they finally solved this “technical fault” by suspending the active account. My first taste of Maltese “technical nonsense”!
When we bought this apartment and moved in, parts of the building hadn’t been completed, so no one had noticed there was no common phone box. It took both the contractor and the phone company a fortnight to realise the building was not connected to the main grid. When they finally did, they sent me two technicians who didn’t speak English. All I understood was ‘bejt’, which means roof, so I took them there and had a short conversation on my Maltese lessons, that was as far as my knowledge of Maltese went. After a painful silence, they created a temporary connection, which they then forgot to replace. Until we pointed it out, after many “technical faults”, which slowed down our internet connection...
Just a few months ago we were left without water for four days (that’s right, four days!). In Malta we have water tanks on the roof, which are usually filled automatically, but not when there is a “technical fault”, of course. Luckily, the water company offers a bowser service. The first time we asked them to fill up our tank the workmen struggled a bit to open it, but ultimately managed to supply our much-awaited water. The second time I figured I had become an expert, so I decided to do it myself: tiny blonde girl climbed on the roof and filled up her own tank with a huge hose, while the neighbours were looking on. Girl power!
A short message to Enemalta: be more creative when we phone you to report yet another problem... We’ve had it with “technical faults”. And to GO: as much as I love Maltese, English is an official language in this country... at least teach your technicians some useful keywords, like... I don’t know... “phone” for starters!
PS: to all readers who’ve had it with my sarcasm and criticism, try living in the Med for a while. You’ll discover the most amazing scenery and lifestyle, but the most annoying laissez-faire attitude. Nevertheless, you’ll fall in love with the whole package, despite sometimes feeling slightly frustrated.
Looking back on all the “technical faults” I’ve experienced in my three years (already that long?!) on the rock, I’ve had my share of funny adventures...
When we first moved in together, in a rented flat, we immediately had Andre’s internet connection transferred from his parents’ house to our new (extremely small and ugly) “blue bubble” (I don’t know what got into us renting that thing, every single wall was painted baby blue). After three weeks of angry phone calls, the phone company realised there was still an active connection on that line, operated by a different provider. We tried to contact this provider, we even went to their offices, but there wasn’t much they could do: the previous tenant hadn’t paid his bills and had fled the country (turns out it was some Japanese wacko)... After lots of whining (that would be me!), they finally solved this “technical fault” by suspending the active account. My first taste of Maltese “technical nonsense”!
When we bought this apartment and moved in, parts of the building hadn’t been completed, so no one had noticed there was no common phone box. It took both the contractor and the phone company a fortnight to realise the building was not connected to the main grid. When they finally did, they sent me two technicians who didn’t speak English. All I understood was ‘bejt’, which means roof, so I took them there and had a short conversation on my Maltese lessons, that was as far as my knowledge of Maltese went. After a painful silence, they created a temporary connection, which they then forgot to replace. Until we pointed it out, after many “technical faults”, which slowed down our internet connection...
Just a few months ago we were left without water for four days (that’s right, four days!). In Malta we have water tanks on the roof, which are usually filled automatically, but not when there is a “technical fault”, of course. Luckily, the water company offers a bowser service. The first time we asked them to fill up our tank the workmen struggled a bit to open it, but ultimately managed to supply our much-awaited water. The second time I figured I had become an expert, so I decided to do it myself: tiny blonde girl climbed on the roof and filled up her own tank with a huge hose, while the neighbours were looking on. Girl power!
A short message to Enemalta: be more creative when we phone you to report yet another problem... We’ve had it with “technical faults”. And to GO: as much as I love Maltese, English is an official language in this country... at least teach your technicians some useful keywords, like... I don’t know... “phone” for starters!
PS: to all readers who’ve had it with my sarcasm and criticism, try living in the Med for a while. You’ll discover the most amazing scenery and lifestyle, but the most annoying laissez-faire attitude. Nevertheless, you’ll fall in love with the whole package, despite sometimes feeling slightly frustrated.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Health and safety... sort of
Malta has a track record second to none in health and safety compliance. A few examples of Maltese craftsmanship:
1. How to paint a façade: attach a wooden beam (preferably recycled, we wouldn’t want to waste any precious old doors and pieces of furniture) to two ropes. Get someone (well, preferably two persons, but one will do) to hold the ropes on the roof and slowly (or quickly, depending on how hot it is) slide down the wall. Meanwhile, attempt to paint it. I have witnessed such acrobatic leaps on several occasions and now fully understand why the death toll for construction workers is always on the rise…
2. How to install a wall-mounted toilet with hidden cistern: this design craze is hardly easy to install, as it requires installing the cistern in the shaft, passing the piping through the wall and connecting it to the external drainage system. In short, get someone to hold your feet, or just keep them up in the air while hanging upside down in a narrow shaft, with no support whatsoever. Every time I look at my toilet, I wonder how the plumber managed to install it without killing himself…
3. How to dispose of construction waste: get an enormous skip, leave it in the middle of the road – while illegally blocking traffic of course – and toss anything in (including metal beams and bricks). Don’t worry about pedestrians, they’ll move!
Joking apart, ten days ago there was a horrible fire at Pender Place. Luckily no one was injured, but many apartments had to be evacuated. A few weeks before that, a crane toppled over, nearly causing a catastrophe, as this happened in a densely populated area, close to a school. Electricity cables hang loose in the middle of the pavement, for anyone to touch. Helmets are optional, as are safety shoes and clothing. Working hours are not respected, not to mention basic human rights… Illegal immigrants are paid a fraction of the minimum wage... And the list goes on… I always tell the Maltese: for things to change, you’ve got to make a small effort yourself, because every little helps. When I see something fishy, I talk to the local wardens… who look at me with a suspicious grin. Nevertheless, I’ve done my bit. If only others did the same…
1. How to paint a façade: attach a wooden beam (preferably recycled, we wouldn’t want to waste any precious old doors and pieces of furniture) to two ropes. Get someone (well, preferably two persons, but one will do) to hold the ropes on the roof and slowly (or quickly, depending on how hot it is) slide down the wall. Meanwhile, attempt to paint it. I have witnessed such acrobatic leaps on several occasions and now fully understand why the death toll for construction workers is always on the rise…
2. How to install a wall-mounted toilet with hidden cistern: this design craze is hardly easy to install, as it requires installing the cistern in the shaft, passing the piping through the wall and connecting it to the external drainage system. In short, get someone to hold your feet, or just keep them up in the air while hanging upside down in a narrow shaft, with no support whatsoever. Every time I look at my toilet, I wonder how the plumber managed to install it without killing himself…
3. How to dispose of construction waste: get an enormous skip, leave it in the middle of the road – while illegally blocking traffic of course – and toss anything in (including metal beams and bricks). Don’t worry about pedestrians, they’ll move!
Joking apart, ten days ago there was a horrible fire at Pender Place. Luckily no one was injured, but many apartments had to be evacuated. A few weeks before that, a crane toppled over, nearly causing a catastrophe, as this happened in a densely populated area, close to a school. Electricity cables hang loose in the middle of the pavement, for anyone to touch. Helmets are optional, as are safety shoes and clothing. Working hours are not respected, not to mention basic human rights… Illegal immigrants are paid a fraction of the minimum wage... And the list goes on… I always tell the Maltese: for things to change, you’ve got to make a small effort yourself, because every little helps. When I see something fishy, I talk to the local wardens… who look at me with a suspicious grin. Nevertheless, I’ve done my bit. If only others did the same…
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Amy’s SUMMER ABC for tourists travelling to Malta
A – ALCOHOL. “Language students” (a.k.a. kids who tell their parents they desperately need to learn English in an English-speaking country, but really just want to party in the Med) think it’s ok to get pissed every night and leave cans all over the streets, shout, sing, walk in the middle of the road and… did I mention get pissed? Well kids, it’s NOT ok! I was young once too, but please have some respect!
B – BEACHES. Keep them clean. I don’t particularly enjoy walking on pieces of glass, used condoms and pizza slices. Thanks for your understanding.
C – CISK, our beer. It’s pronounced /tsjisk/. At least TRY to pronounce it correctly.
D – DIVING. I’m too scared to try it, but if you’re a fan, make sure you do it safely. We’ve already had far too many accidents this year – and it’s only June.
E – EXILES, a great beach with a nice atmosphere in Sliema: not to be missed!
F – FREE. Nothing’s free in Malta. If they tell you it’s free, there’s a catch, so beware!
G – GOZO. No trip to Malta is complete without a stopover on our sister island. Enjoy the peace and tranquillity...
H – HOTELS. Their rates are very competitive, but why not try something different, like a farmhouse with a pool or a house of character overlooking Grand Harbour?
I – INTERNET ACCESS. Not bad, but not spectacular. Power cuts and internet malfunctions are quite common, especially in summer. Be prepared!
J – JELLYFISH. There’s plenty of them this year, so be careful. A “Friends” episode suggests peeing on the skin to relieve the pain caused by a sting, but I suggest sticking to ammonia pens.
K – KINNIE, the best drink in the world! Try it!
L – LEFT. We drive on the left. Most of the time anyway.
M – MDINA, definitely worth a visit. Remember it’s called “the Silent City”: try to keep it that way, that’s part of its magic.
N – NAP, as in siesta. Many shops close between 1 and 4 pm. Why not have a little nap while waiting from them to open? That’s what most of us end up doing when the heat becomes unbearable.
O – ODD. While walking around in Malta, you might discover lots of odd sites and scenes. Keep you camera handy.
P – PASTIZZI: you can call them “cheesecakes” as well. Available with ricotta or pea filling.
Q - This is a glottal stop in Maltese, but if you’re not sure about the pronunciation, don’t stay in Qrendi or Qormi, but find accommodation in a locality you can pronounce!
R – ROADS. I’ve blogged about it before and I’ll keep repeating it until the ADT does something about it: potholes, bloody potholes. Drive SLOWLY and keep your eyes on the road surface!
S – STUDYING. Many come here to study English, but very few succeed. Choose your school carefully and attend your lectures. It’s very easy to get trapped in the party lifestyle Maltese summers are famous for…
T – TOURIST OFFICE. It’s in Valletta, next to City Gate and offers lots of information, including brochures and free maps. Check it out!
U – U-TURNS. The Maltese are not the best drivers and U-turns are their favourite manoeuvre, so careful if you rent a car!
V – VALLETTA. Discover the magic of the “city built by gentlemen for gentlemen”. Wear comfortable shoes (you’ll understand why once you get there).
W – WAVES. When they’re high, they’re REALLY high and DANGEROUS. This one goes out to those who think they can swim when the MET Office tells us not to: they’re not joking! Our armed forces are very busy intercepting illegal immigrants, so please do not distract them.
X – it’s pronounced /sj/ in Maltese. Remember this once and for all when trying to explain you’re looking for the bus to Xemxija, Marsaxlokk or Ta’ Xbiex!
Y – YACHT MARINAS. You don’t need to have a boat to enjoy them: Portomaso is the place to be for a glass of wine or a romantic meal overlooking rich people’s yachts.
Z – ZEST in Spinola Bay. It’s rumoured to be the best sushi restaurant on the island. Haven’t tried it yet, but I’m tempted to do so very, very soon!
B – BEACHES. Keep them clean. I don’t particularly enjoy walking on pieces of glass, used condoms and pizza slices. Thanks for your understanding.
C – CISK, our beer. It’s pronounced /tsjisk/. At least TRY to pronounce it correctly.
D – DIVING. I’m too scared to try it, but if you’re a fan, make sure you do it safely. We’ve already had far too many accidents this year – and it’s only June.
E – EXILES, a great beach with a nice atmosphere in Sliema: not to be missed!
F – FREE. Nothing’s free in Malta. If they tell you it’s free, there’s a catch, so beware!
G – GOZO. No trip to Malta is complete without a stopover on our sister island. Enjoy the peace and tranquillity...
H – HOTELS. Their rates are very competitive, but why not try something different, like a farmhouse with a pool or a house of character overlooking Grand Harbour?
I – INTERNET ACCESS. Not bad, but not spectacular. Power cuts and internet malfunctions are quite common, especially in summer. Be prepared!
J – JELLYFISH. There’s plenty of them this year, so be careful. A “Friends” episode suggests peeing on the skin to relieve the pain caused by a sting, but I suggest sticking to ammonia pens.
K – KINNIE, the best drink in the world! Try it!
L – LEFT. We drive on the left. Most of the time anyway.
M – MDINA, definitely worth a visit. Remember it’s called “the Silent City”: try to keep it that way, that’s part of its magic.
N – NAP, as in siesta. Many shops close between 1 and 4 pm. Why not have a little nap while waiting from them to open? That’s what most of us end up doing when the heat becomes unbearable.
O – ODD. While walking around in Malta, you might discover lots of odd sites and scenes. Keep you camera handy.
P – PASTIZZI: you can call them “cheesecakes” as well. Available with ricotta or pea filling.
Q - This is a glottal stop in Maltese, but if you’re not sure about the pronunciation, don’t stay in Qrendi or Qormi, but find accommodation in a locality you can pronounce!
R – ROADS. I’ve blogged about it before and I’ll keep repeating it until the ADT does something about it: potholes, bloody potholes. Drive SLOWLY and keep your eyes on the road surface!
S – STUDYING. Many come here to study English, but very few succeed. Choose your school carefully and attend your lectures. It’s very easy to get trapped in the party lifestyle Maltese summers are famous for…
T – TOURIST OFFICE. It’s in Valletta, next to City Gate and offers lots of information, including brochures and free maps. Check it out!
U – U-TURNS. The Maltese are not the best drivers and U-turns are their favourite manoeuvre, so careful if you rent a car!
V – VALLETTA. Discover the magic of the “city built by gentlemen for gentlemen”. Wear comfortable shoes (you’ll understand why once you get there).
W – WAVES. When they’re high, they’re REALLY high and DANGEROUS. This one goes out to those who think they can swim when the MET Office tells us not to: they’re not joking! Our armed forces are very busy intercepting illegal immigrants, so please do not distract them.
X – it’s pronounced /sj/ in Maltese. Remember this once and for all when trying to explain you’re looking for the bus to Xemxija, Marsaxlokk or Ta’ Xbiex!
Y – YACHT MARINAS. You don’t need to have a boat to enjoy them: Portomaso is the place to be for a glass of wine or a romantic meal overlooking rich people’s yachts.
Z – ZEST in Spinola Bay. It’s rumoured to be the best sushi restaurant on the island. Haven’t tried it yet, but I’m tempted to do so very, very soon!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Turning a house into a home
Our apartment is slowly taking shape… We no longer have a heap of shoes in front of the door, but now (try to) neatly store our footwear in a shoe cabinet, which took four hours to assemble on a cold winter evening (not sure our neighbours enjoyed the hammering, but it was definitely a bonding experience as a couple). We have a custom-made sideboard (made by Andre’s dad!) packed with papers I never get round to sorting. The kitchen now has an oven cloth hook and several matching fruit baskets (sounds silly, but makes the counter look very organised). And… we ordered a new sofa: a huge leather U-shaped 6-seater with chaise longue, which should be delivered in August (I would like to highlight “should” here, because you never know, the Italy-Malta trip could take up to six months as well, considering the waves and all that…).
Malta’s not the ideal place to buy furniture. The selection is very limited (everyone ends up with the same stuff, in different colours if one's lucky) and delivery times are atrociously long. And since everything needs to be shipped, there’s the occasional shipping damage. One of our kitchen cabinets was damaged on its voyage from il bel paese and took weeks to be replaced, delaying the counter top delivery and leaving us with a piece of chipboard as makeshift counter for months. Not a tragedy since my cooking skills are very limited, but not aesthetically pleasing either.
And then there’s my plants… In the past, I never had a thing for plants. I did have a cactus on my PC tower as a teenager, but that’s as far as it went: tiny and low-maintenance. Now I have a lemon tree on the balcony, a ficus benjamina in a stylish grey pot, a spider plant, a yucca palm tree and lots of unnamed plants (not because they’re new species, but simply because I don’t remember what they’re called). I think plants brighten up a room and add that touch of class. Unless your dog chews off all the leaves that is.
We’ve still got a long way to go as far as furnishing and decorating is concerned. And a lot depends on – once again – the centre of our universe: the little hairy one. If and when Gizmo learns to behave, we can finally buy a nice carpet (at the moment the black devil is into running off with the kitchen carpet), put our plant pots on the floor (instead of finding a spot for them on every cabinet, which may one day even collapse under the weight) and sit on soft, high-quality chairs (thankfully we didn’t spend a fortune on our current chairs, because last year Gizmo chewed one of them, which I managed to replace, although it took great effort because production had been discontinued).
In short, turning a house into a home doesn’t happen overnight. Especially when you live in Malta with a furry destroyer lab…
Malta’s not the ideal place to buy furniture. The selection is very limited (everyone ends up with the same stuff, in different colours if one's lucky) and delivery times are atrociously long. And since everything needs to be shipped, there’s the occasional shipping damage. One of our kitchen cabinets was damaged on its voyage from il bel paese and took weeks to be replaced, delaying the counter top delivery and leaving us with a piece of chipboard as makeshift counter for months. Not a tragedy since my cooking skills are very limited, but not aesthetically pleasing either.
And then there’s my plants… In the past, I never had a thing for plants. I did have a cactus on my PC tower as a teenager, but that’s as far as it went: tiny and low-maintenance. Now I have a lemon tree on the balcony, a ficus benjamina in a stylish grey pot, a spider plant, a yucca palm tree and lots of unnamed plants (not because they’re new species, but simply because I don’t remember what they’re called). I think plants brighten up a room and add that touch of class. Unless your dog chews off all the leaves that is.
We’ve still got a long way to go as far as furnishing and decorating is concerned. And a lot depends on – once again – the centre of our universe: the little hairy one. If and when Gizmo learns to behave, we can finally buy a nice carpet (at the moment the black devil is into running off with the kitchen carpet), put our plant pots on the floor (instead of finding a spot for them on every cabinet, which may one day even collapse under the weight) and sit on soft, high-quality chairs (thankfully we didn’t spend a fortune on our current chairs, because last year Gizmo chewed one of them, which I managed to replace, although it took great effort because production had been discontinued).
In short, turning a house into a home doesn’t happen overnight. Especially when you live in Malta with a furry destroyer lab…
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Summer bliss, allergy amiss
I’ve been a bit busy these last few days doing… nothing really. It’s amazing how a person can let an entire day go by without doing anything productive. I had two days off last week and decided to watch TV, relax in the sun, walk Gizmo, tidy up and clean (a little, no let me rephrase: too little). Then I got an awful allergy (probably because of all the tidying and cleaning), which stubbornly keeps haunting me… I spend my days sneezing, wheezing, coughing and drying my puffy, watery eyes.
On Friday Andre’ and I decided to go to Paradise Bay, my absolute favourite: a tiny beach up north with breathtaking views and crystal-clear water (which, at 20°C, was still too cold for my liking). Last year my first trip to the beach was in March, but this year summer decided to keep us waiting… to explode with a bang: 32°C with humidity levels that make even the sleekest hair frizz.
On Sunday we went to the Earth and Garden festival, a great initiative to promote a cleaner environment through recycling and care for nature. The lighting, music, stalls and art exhibitions created a magical atmosphere, which was only disrupted by the – how shall I put this? – somewhat “alternative” smells, which were everything but family-friendly and welcoming.
This is how summer starts in Malta: swimming, relaxing and lots of festivals and village “festas”. I’m working on my tan and dreaming of my first “real” swim of 2009… maybe this weekend? Fingers crossed.
On Friday Andre’ and I decided to go to Paradise Bay, my absolute favourite: a tiny beach up north with breathtaking views and crystal-clear water (which, at 20°C, was still too cold for my liking). Last year my first trip to the beach was in March, but this year summer decided to keep us waiting… to explode with a bang: 32°C with humidity levels that make even the sleekest hair frizz.
On Sunday we went to the Earth and Garden festival, a great initiative to promote a cleaner environment through recycling and care for nature. The lighting, music, stalls and art exhibitions created a magical atmosphere, which was only disrupted by the – how shall I put this? – somewhat “alternative” smells, which were everything but family-friendly and welcoming.
This is how summer starts in Malta: swimming, relaxing and lots of festivals and village “festas”. I’m working on my tan and dreaming of my first “real” swim of 2009… maybe this weekend? Fingers crossed.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Translation @ home
My job can be summarised in two words, one of which is a personal pronoun, so it doesn’t really contribute to the job description: I translate. People often ask me what that entails, apart from the obvious, literal meaning of the word. Well, I’m a communication expert. I ensure marketing material becomes accessible to different cultures, I contribute to EU campaigns, I inform the press of new products and events in their native language, I correct managers’ often disappointing linguistic masterpieces... And I enjoy it!
My description is often met with incredulity, because, let’s face it, it’s not the most adventurous of jobs. But it is challenging. And mentally exhausting, trust me.
Andre’ and I often argue because he thinks translating can’t be all that hard. After all, I don’t have meetings with ministers, I don’t need to attend conferences and business breakfasts (and enjoy the complimentary catering!), I am never asked to write lengthy reports on the state of the economy and most importantly, I don’t work in an overcrowded office.
True. But I work from home, for God's sake! All alone. With no supervision. Without my incredible time management skills and discipline, I’d be lazying around all day. Instead, I start working an hour early to go through my translations and correct anything that doesn’t sound or look right and occasionally I even work at weekends, just to give it my all.
Languages are my big passion. I adore communication in all its forms. So working on my own is quite a feat: no colleagues to have a chat with, no coffee breaks in the staff room… And still, I think this was the best career move ever. Simply because I enjoy it. And that’s what counts at the end of the day.
This short post is just a little reminder for all of us: it doesn’t matter what you do or where you do it, as long as you enjoy it. Criticising or questioning others’ career choices is pointless, because everyone has different goals and ambitions. You should always follow your dream and showcase your talents.... Wherever it suits you best.
My description is often met with incredulity, because, let’s face it, it’s not the most adventurous of jobs. But it is challenging. And mentally exhausting, trust me.
Andre’ and I often argue because he thinks translating can’t be all that hard. After all, I don’t have meetings with ministers, I don’t need to attend conferences and business breakfasts (and enjoy the complimentary catering!), I am never asked to write lengthy reports on the state of the economy and most importantly, I don’t work in an overcrowded office.
True. But I work from home, for God's sake! All alone. With no supervision. Without my incredible time management skills and discipline, I’d be lazying around all day. Instead, I start working an hour early to go through my translations and correct anything that doesn’t sound or look right and occasionally I even work at weekends, just to give it my all.
Languages are my big passion. I adore communication in all its forms. So working on my own is quite a feat: no colleagues to have a chat with, no coffee breaks in the staff room… And still, I think this was the best career move ever. Simply because I enjoy it. And that’s what counts at the end of the day.
This short post is just a little reminder for all of us: it doesn’t matter what you do or where you do it, as long as you enjoy it. Criticising or questioning others’ career choices is pointless, because everyone has different goals and ambitions. You should always follow your dream and showcase your talents.... Wherever it suits you best.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
VLAMINGEN IN HET BUITENLAND GROETEN HET LYCEUM OP DE OPENSCHOLENDAG
Morgen zet het Koninklijk Lyceum in Gent alle studenten en leerkrachten (van gisteren en vandaag) in de bloemetjes tijdens de openscholendag. Ann De Corte (mijn leerkracht aardrijkskunde in het derde middelbaar) en ik hebben voor deze gelegenheid een leuke nieuwsbrief opgesteld. Haar nieuwsbrief kun je lezen op: http://devolders.blogspot.com/2009/05/openscholendag-op-het-lyceum-op-8-mei.html en de mijne vind je hieronder. Veel leesplezier!
Technologie opent veel deuren en brengt mensen dichterbij…
Ann was een van mijn lievelingsleerkrachten op het Lyceum: een supergezellige, goedlachse jongedame die haar leerlingen vol enthousiasme aardrijkskunde bijbracht en op de hoogte hield van haar avonturen als jonge mama (soms was ze wel eens vijf minuutjes te laat omdat een van haar zoontjes op haar kleren had overgegeven).
We zagen elkaar in 2005 terug op een Lyceum-reünie, net toen zij op het punt stond te vertrekken naar de VS en ik overwoog om naar Malta te verhuizen. Ze beloofde me contact te houden en inderdaad… ik ontving prompt een mailtje met een link naar haar fotoalbum, waar haar nieuw leven in de VS prachtig in beeld wordt gebracht.
Toen Ann besliste een blog aan te maken, werd ik een trouwe lezeres en... haar verhalen waren zo’n grote inspiratie dat ik ook de stap zette naar de blogwereld. Nu lees ik alles over haar leven in de VS en krijgt zij alles te horen over mijn avonturen in de Middellandse Zee.
Even opfrissen…
Sommigen kennen me als de luidruchtige ex-studente Latijn-Moderne Talen die maar al te graag het woord nam. Anderen als de half Italiaanse, half Belgische die droomde van een taalgebonden carrière in verre oorden. Rinkelt er geen belletje?
Ik ben Amy Colman en heb van 1996 tot 2002 (als ik me niet vergis… cijfertjes zijn nooit mijn sterkste punt geweest!) Latijn-Moderne Talen aan het Koninklijk Lyceum gestudeerd.
Ik denk met plezier terug aan mijn Lyceum-jaren: van de uitstappen naar Tsjechië, Polen, Engeland en Rome tot de openschooldagen en ja, zelfs de examenperiodes… toen de Latijnse vaak een dagje langer examens moest afleggen en iedereen ons maar al te graag uitlachte.
Na zes boeiende en gezellige jaartjes op het Lyceum besloot ik – niet onverwachts – vertaler/tolk EN-IT-NL te studeren aan de Brusselse Vlekho (die nu deel uitmaakt van de HUB). In mijn eerste licentie verbleef ik in het kader van het Erasmus-programma vijf maand in het Italiaanse Forlì, waar ik mijn vriend Andre’ leerde kennen. Hij bleek Maltees te zijn (en ik wist natuurlijk totaal
niet waar Malta lag… m’n grootste flater sloeg ik toen ik hem vroeg of Malta bij Portugal lag! Ann, maak je geen zorgen… ’t is zeker jouw fout niet! Ik zat die les waarschijnlijk te babbelen of weg te dromen…).
Ik studeerde in juni 2006 af als tolk en zette nog geen twee weken later de grote stap: ik vertrok met mijn koffer van 20 kg richting Malta, een eilandje van amper 316 km² in de Middellandse Zee.
Ondertussen woon ik hier al bijna drie jaar samen met Andre’ en onze zwarte labrador retriever Gizmo in ons eigen appartementje met prachtig zicht op de helderblauwe zee. Zalig gewoon. Ik werk als vertaalster (actief NL en EN, passief NL, EN, IT en FR) voor een Gents vertaalbureau (van thuis, erg handig!) en Andre’ is manager van een departement van de Maltese Kamer van Koophandel.
Omdat ik zo van talen hou, ben ik Maltees aan het studeren (drie cursussen achter de rug en nu een beetje zelfstudie wegens tijdgebrek). Maltees is een combinatie van Arabisch, Italiaans en Engels: niet eenvoudig dus! Engels is hier de tweede officiële taal en bijna iedereen spreekt ook Italiaans, maar ik vind het een leuke uitdaging om me te verdiepen in deze toch wel erg bijzondere mengeling van drie totaal verschillende talen.
Ik heb nog geen moment spijt gehad van mijn beslissing om te verhuizen, integendeel, ik raad het iedereen aan! België heeft een zekere charme, maar wie wil nu niet op een zonovergoten eilandje wonen met twee knapperds als Andre’ en Gizmo?
MINIQUIZ: Amy gisteren en vandaag
Amy’s leerkracht Latijn:
a) zwaaide steeds met zijn houten stok boven haar hoofd om Rome aan te duiden op de kaart
b) liep in Rome rond met een Pikachu-ballon om de weg aan te duiden
c) houdt een lijstje bij met de studies en carrière van zijn ex-studenten
Antwoord: a, b én c. Inderdaad, als je even suf was in de klas, durfde Eddy Nuydt je wel eens wakker schudden door met zijn houten stok Rome aan te duiden op de driehonderd jaar oude kaart boven Amy’s hoofd. Tijdens de traditionele reis naar Rome kreeg Eddy inderdaad een Pikachu-ballon cadeau (het gele cartoonpersonage dat toen ‘in’ was) om zijn studenten de weg te wijzen en ja hoor, hij houdt al jaren de evolutie van zijn studenten bij: op elke reünie staat gegarandeerd een rondvraag op het programma. Eddy, you’re the best!
Amy heeft:
a) een jaartje Grieks gestudeerd
b) een jaartje economie gestudeerd
c) geen van beide
Antwoord: a. In het tweede middelbaar besloot ik Grieks te studeren om niet te moeten deelnemen aan de dissectie van het konijn, die in het leerplan stond van de groep Latijn-Wetenschappelijk Werk… Het mocht niet zijn… de leerkracht wetenschappelijk werk haalde de hele groep Grieks uit de klas om met een strootje de longen van een dood konijn op te blazen. Walgelijk! Economie had ik twee uurtjes per week op de hogeschool… ’t is nooit mijn sterkste vak geweest!
Mijn nieuwe woonst ligt:
a) ten zuiden van Sicilië
b) ten zuiden van Spanje
c) net onder Sardinië
Antwoord: a. Velen hebben er nog nooit van gehoord… Best begrijpelijk, aangezien het zo klein is, maar ‘mijn’ eilandje is zeker de moeite! Malta ligt in het midden van de Middellandse Zee, net onder Sicilië. En bij deze raad ik iedereen aan om van onze cultuur en levensstijl te komen proeven!
Waar kan je me vinden?
Iedereen is welkom op mijn blog, die een tot twee keer per week wordt bijgewerkt: http://amycolman.blogspot.com
Mailen kan op amycolman@hotmail.com en vrienden van toen mogen me gerust toevoegen aan hun Facebook-vriendenlijst!
Ann en Amy hebben een Facebook-groep opgestart voor ex-Lyceum-gangers die (al dan niet tijdelijk) in het buitenland wonen of van plan zijn die stap te zetten. De groep heet ‘Gisteren op het Lyceum. Vandaag in het buitenland.’ en iedereen is welkom!
Veel plezier op de openscholendag!
Technologie opent veel deuren en brengt mensen dichterbij…
Ann was een van mijn lievelingsleerkrachten op het Lyceum: een supergezellige, goedlachse jongedame die haar leerlingen vol enthousiasme aardrijkskunde bijbracht en op de hoogte hield van haar avonturen als jonge mama (soms was ze wel eens vijf minuutjes te laat omdat een van haar zoontjes op haar kleren had overgegeven).
We zagen elkaar in 2005 terug op een Lyceum-reünie, net toen zij op het punt stond te vertrekken naar de VS en ik overwoog om naar Malta te verhuizen. Ze beloofde me contact te houden en inderdaad… ik ontving prompt een mailtje met een link naar haar fotoalbum, waar haar nieuw leven in de VS prachtig in beeld wordt gebracht.
Toen Ann besliste een blog aan te maken, werd ik een trouwe lezeres en... haar verhalen waren zo’n grote inspiratie dat ik ook de stap zette naar de blogwereld. Nu lees ik alles over haar leven in de VS en krijgt zij alles te horen over mijn avonturen in de Middellandse Zee.
Even opfrissen…
Sommigen kennen me als de luidruchtige ex-studente Latijn-Moderne Talen die maar al te graag het woord nam. Anderen als de half Italiaanse, half Belgische die droomde van een taalgebonden carrière in verre oorden. Rinkelt er geen belletje?
Ik ben Amy Colman en heb van 1996 tot 2002 (als ik me niet vergis… cijfertjes zijn nooit mijn sterkste punt geweest!) Latijn-Moderne Talen aan het Koninklijk Lyceum gestudeerd.
Ik denk met plezier terug aan mijn Lyceum-jaren: van de uitstappen naar Tsjechië, Polen, Engeland en Rome tot de openschooldagen en ja, zelfs de examenperiodes… toen de Latijnse vaak een dagje langer examens moest afleggen en iedereen ons maar al te graag uitlachte.
Na zes boeiende en gezellige jaartjes op het Lyceum besloot ik – niet onverwachts – vertaler/tolk EN-IT-NL te studeren aan de Brusselse Vlekho (die nu deel uitmaakt van de HUB). In mijn eerste licentie verbleef ik in het kader van het Erasmus-programma vijf maand in het Italiaanse Forlì, waar ik mijn vriend Andre’ leerde kennen. Hij bleek Maltees te zijn (en ik wist natuurlijk totaal
niet waar Malta lag… m’n grootste flater sloeg ik toen ik hem vroeg of Malta bij Portugal lag! Ann, maak je geen zorgen… ’t is zeker jouw fout niet! Ik zat die les waarschijnlijk te babbelen of weg te dromen…).
Ik studeerde in juni 2006 af als tolk en zette nog geen twee weken later de grote stap: ik vertrok met mijn koffer van 20 kg richting Malta, een eilandje van amper 316 km² in de Middellandse Zee.
Ondertussen woon ik hier al bijna drie jaar samen met Andre’ en onze zwarte labrador retriever Gizmo in ons eigen appartementje met prachtig zicht op de helderblauwe zee. Zalig gewoon. Ik werk als vertaalster (actief NL en EN, passief NL, EN, IT en FR) voor een Gents vertaalbureau (van thuis, erg handig!) en Andre’ is manager van een departement van de Maltese Kamer van Koophandel.
Omdat ik zo van talen hou, ben ik Maltees aan het studeren (drie cursussen achter de rug en nu een beetje zelfstudie wegens tijdgebrek). Maltees is een combinatie van Arabisch, Italiaans en Engels: niet eenvoudig dus! Engels is hier de tweede officiële taal en bijna iedereen spreekt ook Italiaans, maar ik vind het een leuke uitdaging om me te verdiepen in deze toch wel erg bijzondere mengeling van drie totaal verschillende talen.
Ik heb nog geen moment spijt gehad van mijn beslissing om te verhuizen, integendeel, ik raad het iedereen aan! België heeft een zekere charme, maar wie wil nu niet op een zonovergoten eilandje wonen met twee knapperds als Andre’ en Gizmo?
MINIQUIZ: Amy gisteren en vandaag
Amy’s leerkracht Latijn:
a) zwaaide steeds met zijn houten stok boven haar hoofd om Rome aan te duiden op de kaart
b) liep in Rome rond met een Pikachu-ballon om de weg aan te duiden
c) houdt een lijstje bij met de studies en carrière van zijn ex-studenten
Antwoord: a, b én c. Inderdaad, als je even suf was in de klas, durfde Eddy Nuydt je wel eens wakker schudden door met zijn houten stok Rome aan te duiden op de driehonderd jaar oude kaart boven Amy’s hoofd. Tijdens de traditionele reis naar Rome kreeg Eddy inderdaad een Pikachu-ballon cadeau (het gele cartoonpersonage dat toen ‘in’ was) om zijn studenten de weg te wijzen en ja hoor, hij houdt al jaren de evolutie van zijn studenten bij: op elke reünie staat gegarandeerd een rondvraag op het programma. Eddy, you’re the best!
Amy heeft:
a) een jaartje Grieks gestudeerd
b) een jaartje economie gestudeerd
c) geen van beide
Antwoord: a. In het tweede middelbaar besloot ik Grieks te studeren om niet te moeten deelnemen aan de dissectie van het konijn, die in het leerplan stond van de groep Latijn-Wetenschappelijk Werk… Het mocht niet zijn… de leerkracht wetenschappelijk werk haalde de hele groep Grieks uit de klas om met een strootje de longen van een dood konijn op te blazen. Walgelijk! Economie had ik twee uurtjes per week op de hogeschool… ’t is nooit mijn sterkste vak geweest!
Mijn nieuwe woonst ligt:
a) ten zuiden van Sicilië
b) ten zuiden van Spanje
c) net onder Sardinië
Antwoord: a. Velen hebben er nog nooit van gehoord… Best begrijpelijk, aangezien het zo klein is, maar ‘mijn’ eilandje is zeker de moeite! Malta ligt in het midden van de Middellandse Zee, net onder Sicilië. En bij deze raad ik iedereen aan om van onze cultuur en levensstijl te komen proeven!
Waar kan je me vinden?
Iedereen is welkom op mijn blog, die een tot twee keer per week wordt bijgewerkt: http://amycolman.blogspot.com
Mailen kan op amycolman@hotmail.com en vrienden van toen mogen me gerust toevoegen aan hun Facebook-vriendenlijst!
Ann en Amy hebben een Facebook-groep opgestart voor ex-Lyceum-gangers die (al dan niet tijdelijk) in het buitenland wonen of van plan zijn die stap te zetten. De groep heet ‘Gisteren op het Lyceum. Vandaag in het buitenland.’ en iedereen is welkom!
Veel plezier op de openscholendag!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Update: crazy Gizmo
First of all: a big THANK YOU to everyone who helped us with the whole “Gizmo gone insane” issue. After lots of tiring discussions and panic attacks, last Wednesday we decided to take Gizmo to his first obedience class.
We opted for an obedience and agility course at Luxol Grounds. Gizmo’s agility is without a doubt his strong point: stealing knickers and socks from the laundry basket without anyone noticing until his tail starts wagging at full speed and he starts running across the living room… that’s what he does best. Obedience, well that’s a different story…
We arrived at Luxol (an enormous parking lot) expecting to find a small group of dog lovers, but much to our surprise there were tons of people. The dogs were subdivided into groups, each led by an experienced trainer (ours was something like “pre pre beginners”… need I say more?).
The school is run – I was told – by an ex-police dog trainer. And I think that description matches the stern little man we met as soon as we arrived: he grabbed our dog’s choke chain and told us we “got it all wrong”. Ok, we had bought the new choker literally four hours earlier so yes… we did probably get it all wrong. Then all the newcomers (about 15 in all) were told to stand in line with their dogs beside them. Not Gizmo, though. He had never seen that many dogs at once and couldn’t refrain from scanning the entire parking lot, sniffing around, licking his classmates and wagging his tail, of course…
Andre’ and I were asked to decide which one of us would be Gizmo’s master. Since I spend more time with him, I told our trainer I wanted to give it a shot. Bad, bad idea! Gizmo is strong, very strong. And big, no, enormous. So to avoid sending me home with purple hands and tense muscles, I only got to do part of the exercises: no zigzagging between dogs, but simply walking in a straight line, for example. And he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the other dogs during the walking exercises… too much distraction! At one point, he decided he needed a wee during training... just to make mummy turn bright red...
After talking to the trainer, who advised Andre’ to take over as Gizmo’s master, I returned home with sore hands and extremely painful shoulder blades… and a sense of defeat. However, yesterday Andre’ bravely took Gizmo to his second lesson and while I stood in a corner I thought to myself: “Look at my boys turning into men…” And all was well once again…
In the car Andre' told me there was a small incident, though. Gizmo kind of exposed his private parts (he just couldn't bear all the excitement) and the trainer told Andre': "Get your dog some underwear next time!" That's our Giz...
Gizmo will become the greatest dog in the whole world… or within a 100-m radius… He can do it!
We opted for an obedience and agility course at Luxol Grounds. Gizmo’s agility is without a doubt his strong point: stealing knickers and socks from the laundry basket without anyone noticing until his tail starts wagging at full speed and he starts running across the living room… that’s what he does best. Obedience, well that’s a different story…
We arrived at Luxol (an enormous parking lot) expecting to find a small group of dog lovers, but much to our surprise there were tons of people. The dogs were subdivided into groups, each led by an experienced trainer (ours was something like “pre pre beginners”… need I say more?).
The school is run – I was told – by an ex-police dog trainer. And I think that description matches the stern little man we met as soon as we arrived: he grabbed our dog’s choke chain and told us we “got it all wrong”. Ok, we had bought the new choker literally four hours earlier so yes… we did probably get it all wrong. Then all the newcomers (about 15 in all) were told to stand in line with their dogs beside them. Not Gizmo, though. He had never seen that many dogs at once and couldn’t refrain from scanning the entire parking lot, sniffing around, licking his classmates and wagging his tail, of course…
Andre’ and I were asked to decide which one of us would be Gizmo’s master. Since I spend more time with him, I told our trainer I wanted to give it a shot. Bad, bad idea! Gizmo is strong, very strong. And big, no, enormous. So to avoid sending me home with purple hands and tense muscles, I only got to do part of the exercises: no zigzagging between dogs, but simply walking in a straight line, for example. And he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the other dogs during the walking exercises… too much distraction! At one point, he decided he needed a wee during training... just to make mummy turn bright red...
After talking to the trainer, who advised Andre’ to take over as Gizmo’s master, I returned home with sore hands and extremely painful shoulder blades… and a sense of defeat. However, yesterday Andre’ bravely took Gizmo to his second lesson and while I stood in a corner I thought to myself: “Look at my boys turning into men…” And all was well once again…
In the car Andre' told me there was a small incident, though. Gizmo kind of exposed his private parts (he just couldn't bear all the excitement) and the trainer told Andre': "Get your dog some underwear next time!" That's our Giz...
Gizmo will become the greatest dog in the whole world… or within a 100-m radius… He can do it!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Help: crazy Gizmo on the loose!!
As many of you know, about a year ago Andre’ and I decided it was time for the next step in our relationship… We had just bought our beautiful apartment and wanted it to feel like home. Babies are definitely part of our “plan”, but we wanted a “test baby” first and so on a sunny day in March 2008 Gizmo walked into our life and home. Little did we know a baby would’ve been the easier and cheaper option.
We immediately fell head over heels for our chubby black labrador retriever with mischievous eyes. He was the only one of the bunch hiding under the sofa, falling asleep on his uncle Jason’s hand and looking at us with that adorable grin we now identify as the “don’t-leave-me-on-my-own-or-I’ll-destroy-whatever-I-can-find” look.
The first weeks were hell, but we didn’t mind. It was, after all, a new adventure we had been looking forward to. No matter how often we used to walk him, Gizmo would pee and poo all over the apartment, proudly looking up at his masters after every one of his many toilet breaks. Meanwhile, he’s learned our home is not a 130 sqm public toilet, but some of his bad habits remain.
Gizmo likes chewing. He chews everything, from shoes (including my favourite Morgan stilettos) to chairs, quilts and carpets. His most impressive and expensive chew toys so far include a mobile phone, Andre’s passport (much to the amusement of the public servants who had to replace it for him two days before he was due to leave on a business trip), a remote control, two pairs of glasses and my lemon tree.
Another issue is his jumping craze. He’s always liked jumping up at visitors to express his joy at welcoming them into our (or should I say “his”?) home, but lately he’s become like a high jumper, aiming for our face and trying to attack joggers in the garden.
Walking is supposed to be the easiest thing to teach a lab according to our specialised book… We’ve tried all possible chains, collars and harnesses on the market, nothing seems to stop Gizmo from dragging us along. I weigh only a few kilos more than him, so walking him is quite a feat, to say the least. Once I was nearly hit by a car, another time I fell and bruised my leg.
Despite what everyone thinks, we really do try to train him. We scold him whenever he does something we disapprove of, but somehow he just won’t understand. He thinks it’s all a game… and every chase and punishment turns into a face-licking session. We’ve heard of obedience classes in Malta being organised on Wednesday evenings, but to be honest we’re exhausted after a day of work and the last thing we want to do is break an arm trying to keep Gizmo from chasing all his “classmates”.
Any tips or ideas? Any similar experiences? Help us, we’re at our wits’ end…
We immediately fell head over heels for our chubby black labrador retriever with mischievous eyes. He was the only one of the bunch hiding under the sofa, falling asleep on his uncle Jason’s hand and looking at us with that adorable grin we now identify as the “don’t-leave-me-on-my-own-or-I’ll-destroy-whatever-I-can-find” look.
The first weeks were hell, but we didn’t mind. It was, after all, a new adventure we had been looking forward to. No matter how often we used to walk him, Gizmo would pee and poo all over the apartment, proudly looking up at his masters after every one of his many toilet breaks. Meanwhile, he’s learned our home is not a 130 sqm public toilet, but some of his bad habits remain.
Gizmo likes chewing. He chews everything, from shoes (including my favourite Morgan stilettos) to chairs, quilts and carpets. His most impressive and expensive chew toys so far include a mobile phone, Andre’s passport (much to the amusement of the public servants who had to replace it for him two days before he was due to leave on a business trip), a remote control, two pairs of glasses and my lemon tree.
Another issue is his jumping craze. He’s always liked jumping up at visitors to express his joy at welcoming them into our (or should I say “his”?) home, but lately he’s become like a high jumper, aiming for our face and trying to attack joggers in the garden.
Walking is supposed to be the easiest thing to teach a lab according to our specialised book… We’ve tried all possible chains, collars and harnesses on the market, nothing seems to stop Gizmo from dragging us along. I weigh only a few kilos more than him, so walking him is quite a feat, to say the least. Once I was nearly hit by a car, another time I fell and bruised my leg.
Despite what everyone thinks, we really do try to train him. We scold him whenever he does something we disapprove of, but somehow he just won’t understand. He thinks it’s all a game… and every chase and punishment turns into a face-licking session. We’ve heard of obedience classes in Malta being organised on Wednesday evenings, but to be honest we’re exhausted after a day of work and the last thing we want to do is break an arm trying to keep Gizmo from chasing all his “classmates”.
Any tips or ideas? Any similar experiences? Help us, we’re at our wits’ end…
Monday, April 20, 2009
Italy vs. Malta: account of an Easter break
Being half Italian, I love spending my holidays in Italy. Andre’ and I try to go to Northern Italy twice a year to enjoy the good food, wine and company of friends and family. Last week we had a great Easter break in the Veneto region.
We’re frequent travellers and we’ve tried quite a few airlines over the years. We love Air Malta, because it’s efficient and offers a great service, including in-flight meals, a luxury nowadays. However, as our destination is serviced by a low-cost airline and Air Malta’s prices have failed to drop despite the financial crisis, we’ve had to lower our standards and go for the cheaper option: Ryanair.
I’m not a fussy traveller, but I like comfort and efficiency. Ryanair is known for its no-frills service, but is reliable in terms of timeliness and baggage handling. Its passengers, however, still have a lot to learn! Ryanair doesn’t assign seat numbers, which is acceptable given its low fares (mind you, not always… book late and you’re stuck with higher prices than scheduled flights, partly because of all the additional costs: checked-in baggage, credit-card payments etc.). The Maltese are known for their orderly attitude towards queueing: they form a straight line and patiently await their turn. The Italians, however, tend to be a little more… how shall I put this? Pushy, literally! And once they’ve showed their boarding card at the gate, they break into a sprint… because you never know… the plane might just take off without them!
Suitability as travel companions: Italians: 0 – Maltese: 1
Andre’ and I spent our holiday at my parents’ house, in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hills. We love it there: the weather is great, the people are amazingly friendly and the food is fresh and delicious. As we both work with computers all day, we were looking forward to a week without internet access… It was not to be. My father has been trying to get internet access in our holiday home for years and this year, after our neighbours had finally managed to secure their adsl connection, he was determined not to leave without an active connection. He had heard about “internet keys”, a kind of USB contraption which is quite popular in Italy. We signed a contract for a “chiavetta Tre” and kept our fingers crossed. After six days of phoning the help desk and several trips to the outlet which sold us the device, we had to give up… No refund, despite all the European regulations which supposedly protect consumers, no explanation as to why the gadget just won’t work and no apology for the crappy service…
IT and customer care: Italians: 0 – Maltese: 1
Pizza… it’s our favourite food! And what better place to enjoy it than Italy? Think again! On Easter Monday we decided to go for a stroll in Padova, where we had lunch in a La Lanterna, a pizzeria in one of the main squares. The prices were average, the interior below average and the food simply disgusting: soggy and tasteless. Then the coup de grâce: burnt espresso. After a long walk to digest that inedible goo, we went to one of the best ice-cream parlours in the city centre for a slush… or so we thought. We were given a plastic cup containing coloured liquid with lemon flavour. No ice anywhere in sight.
Pizza and ice cream: Italians: 0 – Maltese: 1
We had a great holiday. We love Italy and are definitely looking forward to our next trip in summer, but we must admit we were very relieved when the plane touched ground in Malta and all the passengers clapped their hands… the Ryanair tradition. Or maybe just a way to say “thank God we’re home”.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Sludge
I love coffee. No, correction: I’m totally addicted to coffee. I spent half a year studying in Italy, where I used to drink seven to eight espressos a day. The result: I couldn’t sleep and I was moody most of the time. Upon my return home, I swore off the black “sludge”, as Ed, one of my dear friends, calls it… but not for long. I just couldn’t resist.
Malta, as a former British colony, is more of a “tea nation”. Then again, our little rock lies just beneath Sicily, so espresso – the “real” coffee – is readily available. Not all bar attendants are familiar with the different types of espresso, though. Once Andre’ and I went to Birgu for cake and, you guessed it… a nice espresso. It had been a very long day, and we needed a caffeine kick, so we ordered an “espresso doppio” (a double espresso). Unfortunately, something went wrong in the preparation and I ended up sipping a thick insoluble mix of ground coffee… Not very appealing.
My friends don’t understand my coffee addiction (and let's face it, Andre's quite fond of the black sludge too). When they invite us for dinner, we have to take our Bialetti coffee maker with us. Why? Because we refuse to drink tea after eating (not the ideal drink to digest a good meal, but nice with scones on a cold winter afternoon) and we absolutely hate Nescafé (how was that ever labelled as coffee?).
In the end, living in a country where the British and the Italian culture go hand in hand, we have the best of both worlds: afternoon tea and morning coffee (I’m not referring those awfully dry “Morning Coffee” biscuits here!). And the best part is: all the great Italian brands can be found in any supermarket (Lavazza, Illy, Segafredo…). What more can a girl ask for?
Malta, as a former British colony, is more of a “tea nation”. Then again, our little rock lies just beneath Sicily, so espresso – the “real” coffee – is readily available. Not all bar attendants are familiar with the different types of espresso, though. Once Andre’ and I went to Birgu for cake and, you guessed it… a nice espresso. It had been a very long day, and we needed a caffeine kick, so we ordered an “espresso doppio” (a double espresso). Unfortunately, something went wrong in the preparation and I ended up sipping a thick insoluble mix of ground coffee… Not very appealing.
My friends don’t understand my coffee addiction (and let's face it, Andre's quite fond of the black sludge too). When they invite us for dinner, we have to take our Bialetti coffee maker with us. Why? Because we refuse to drink tea after eating (not the ideal drink to digest a good meal, but nice with scones on a cold winter afternoon) and we absolutely hate Nescafé (how was that ever labelled as coffee?).
In the end, living in a country where the British and the Italian culture go hand in hand, we have the best of both worlds: afternoon tea and morning coffee (I’m not referring those awfully dry “Morning Coffee” biscuits here!). And the best part is: all the great Italian brands can be found in any supermarket (Lavazza, Illy, Segafredo…). What more can a girl ask for?
Monday, March 30, 2009
Ode to colour
I love colours… In secondary school my classmates used to call me “fluo Amy”, because of my love for bright yellow, orange, red and pink tops. My fashion sense has slightly improved since, but my love for colours remains.
From up high, through the tiny windows of a plane, Malta looks like a pale yellow spot in the deep blue sea. On descending, however, green fields appear, surrounded by meticulously constructed rubble walls and colourful flowers covering the rocks, which boast a vast colour palette, from dark grey to soft beige.
The sky is a magical shade of blue and at sunrise and sunset the sea surface becomes a painter’s easel. Walking the dog in the small garden down the road overlooking the beach at 6 am just makes me feel alive. I love the smells, the silence, that sense of tranquillity… and the colours of the water, the sky, the soil and the plants.
The balconies of traditional Maltese townhouses are painted red, green, yellow, brown, black or blue. The same goes for the doors in Mdina, which are famous for their unusual doorknobs. But what about the new face of Malta, those modern apartment blocks sprouting up on every corner? Well, they too bring a colourful touch to this tiny island with their colourful façades.
Village “festas” decorate the sky with flashy fireworks all summer. A trip to the Sunday fish market in Marsaxlokk, where brightly painted wooden boats adorn the sea front, is a feast for the eyes. A walk around the island instantly brings a smile to your face, even on a rainy day.
Why this ode to colour? Because we often forget what truly makes life beautiful… those seemingly irrelevant bits and pieces of daily life that catch our eye and linger in our minds, those sights that remind us of our childhood, when a simple red flower in a field could fill us with awe…
From up high, through the tiny windows of a plane, Malta looks like a pale yellow spot in the deep blue sea. On descending, however, green fields appear, surrounded by meticulously constructed rubble walls and colourful flowers covering the rocks, which boast a vast colour palette, from dark grey to soft beige.
The sky is a magical shade of blue and at sunrise and sunset the sea surface becomes a painter’s easel. Walking the dog in the small garden down the road overlooking the beach at 6 am just makes me feel alive. I love the smells, the silence, that sense of tranquillity… and the colours of the water, the sky, the soil and the plants.
The balconies of traditional Maltese townhouses are painted red, green, yellow, brown, black or blue. The same goes for the doors in Mdina, which are famous for their unusual doorknobs. But what about the new face of Malta, those modern apartment blocks sprouting up on every corner? Well, they too bring a colourful touch to this tiny island with their colourful façades.
Village “festas” decorate the sky with flashy fireworks all summer. A trip to the Sunday fish market in Marsaxlokk, where brightly painted wooden boats adorn the sea front, is a feast for the eyes. A walk around the island instantly brings a smile to your face, even on a rainy day.
Why this ode to colour? Because we often forget what truly makes life beautiful… those seemingly irrelevant bits and pieces of daily life that catch our eye and linger in our minds, those sights that remind us of our childhood, when a simple red flower in a field could fill us with awe…
Friday, March 27, 2009
Service with a smile
“After-sales service”, “customer care”… there are dozens of names for it, that unhelpful attitude that goes with knowing you’ve sold your product or service and there’s no way back for the poor customer.
The Maltese are amazing salespeople: buying new kitchen appliances? Why not upgrade? We’ve got a great offer! There go the 1,000 euros we were saving up for a big glass table (now we’re stuck with a smaller, cheaper version)! Have some extra cash in your account? Why not invest it in a savings plan? The outcome: a monthly transfer from my savings account for the next forty years. You have cable TV with our company? We now also sell mobile phone packages and internet connections… Not interested? Well, maybe you could upgrade your cable package then? We’ve got… Nope, not this time, thanks!
I’m so easily persuaded by small talk. That’s why I should never be left in a shop on my own. Or in a shopping street, or close to a phone… I should never be left alone full stop. I suffer from “compulsive pleasing syndrome”, which manifests itself with a willingness to buy anything that’s offered to me by a smiling salesperson.
The issue is not the fact that I buy, buy, buy… but the fact that everything I buy seems to break within an unreasonable timeframe. New kitchen appliances: cooker doesn’t work within one day from installation (reason: I didn’t know about the magic switch labelled “cooker” on the wall). New washing machine: cannot be installed due to lack of tap (who knew a washing machine just won’t work without a tap?). New ASDL connection: cables between Sicily and Malta are damaged (and I’m cut off from the world for days). New mobile for Andre’: chewed by the dog on two occasions (never managed to get a refund for that one, no matter how hard I tried).
As soon as my cash card has been swiped, the smile disappears. Sure, there’s a one-year guarantee (“we don’t follow the EU regulations guaranteeing two years here”), but it’s only valid in case of damage which hasn’t been caused by wear and tear, the plastic parts are not covered (even if 90% of the bloody thing consists of some form of plastic!) and labour costs are charged by the hour… In short, solve it yourself or buy a new one!
And since we’re mainly a service-based economy, we offer our customers a “service with a smile”… or the typical Mediterranean laissez-faire attitude. Internet connection not working? “Just relax, within four hours or one day max (!) everything will be restored.” Power cut on a weekday at 9 am? “Don’t worry, we’ll be done patching up by noon.” Internet banking account not topped up three days after your transfer? “Wait another two days… that should do it.”
The worst part is… you actually stop caring after a while. You take your cup of tea and patiently wait, and wait… and wait. If you can’t beat them, join them!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Public transport or...?
Andre’ doesn’t like taking the bus. He says – and I quote – that the Maltese buses are “smelly, overcrowded and unreliable”.
My first bus ride was from San Gwann to Valletta. What an experience. Maltese buses are… well ancient, mostly. We do have some new “King Longs” (no joke!) with TV screens advertising cleaning services and the like, but most buses date back to prehistoric times and come with a rope bell, which doubles as a support mechanism when the suspensions (if any) give way (at every traffic light/stop sign/pothole/opportunity for the driver to have a chat with his friends in the middle of the road).
In Malta there’s no such thing as a schedule. Well, in theory there is, but it’s nowhere to be found. And if you do get your hands on one, rest assured it won’t be respected by the amazingly friendly and articulate drivers (by no means am I generalising).
My sister Debbie and I once witnessed the friendliness and approachability of these creatures first-hand. Summer of 2006. Debbie and I are on a bus from Sliema to Valletta. A merry tourist hands the driver LM 0.23 (Maltese liri, our long-lost currency) in 1c coins. The driver grabs the money, gives the tourist an angry look and throws the coins out of the door (bus doors are never closed here… why bother?). Then he mumbles some swear words in Maltese and instructs the puzzled tourist to have a seat (by pointing at the wooden slats covered with gooey foam one is supposed to sit on). Debbie is shocked. I give her a reassuring nod.
October 2008. Andre’ and I go to Valletta for the evening to enjoy the “Notte Bianca”. After a few hours visiting the national library and some churches, and gobbling down pastizzi (for a change), we decide to head home with the night bus. The driver is clearly very worried about health and safety rules, as he spends fifteen minutes chattering on his mobile while zigzagging his way through traffic. I decide to confront him. Bad move. Thank God Andre’ comes to the rescue.
For the record, Andre’ and I have a car. A new one, which we hardly ever use. Our insurance premium is sky-high. Yearly maintenance costs us a fortune. Would we trade it for the greener option, public transport? Let’s face it, would you?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Malta? That would be... somewhere in Europe?
Many people have no idea where Malta is. I must admit that I had no idea when I first heard about it... this being a few years ago. “Is it an island near Portugal?” I asked Andre’. Needless to say, I immediately ran off to the bookshop to gather some reading material on the enlargement of the EU, to avoid any further embarrassment and painful silences.
When I moved here, I didn’t really know what to expect. Holiday island, sunny and hot all year round? 316 square km of claustrophobia-inducing rocks? Overcrowded building site?
Let’s see… Holiday island? Check! British tourists strolling on the beach wearing shorts, long white socks and sandals in January, when temperatures can easily plummet to 7 or 8°C… How to spot them, apart from their inappropriate wardrobe? Just follow the purple legs, yellow caps and sun lotion scent!
Sunny and hot all year round? Now there’s a myth! Ever tried sleeping in a room without air conditioning (or any form of heating for that matter) covered in humid sheets (that’s an understatement, make that: wet and clingy sheets)? Weather-wise, this year has been the worst so far… End of March and still waiting for the sun to shine through our 5-m patio doors! And we bought sunblock blinds and a sun lounger just a few weeks ago… should’ve spent that money on flannel duvet covers instead!
316 square km of claustrophobia-inducing rocks? Yes, that’s right: 316 square kilometres. Hard to believe? It’s really not THAT small… And no, you can’t walk round the island in one day. Rocks: we’ve got loads of those. They come in the form of cliffs, beaches, carved-out (potholed) roads… quite fascinating, I must say, considering I had never even seen a rocky beach before moving here. Claustrophobia? Nowhere in sight. There are so many ways to counter the “island feeling” (you know: “I’m surrounded by water, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide”): boat trips to Gozo, a drive in the countryside (yes, we even have that!) or simply a one-way trip to the airport.
Overcrowded building site? Unfortunately. Cosy houses of character exuding history are making way for modern high-rise condominiums with state-of-the-art facilities at an unimaginable pace. The result: we’re surrounded by sand, cranes and noisy workers. Ah well, Andre’ and I actually bought a brand-new flat in the centre of real estate heaven, so maybe I’m not in a position to criticise…
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Minglish & spelling
My Maltese readers know what I’m talking about: that peculiar combination of Maltese and English spoken mainly – but not exclusively – in the Sliema area. The “tal-pepe” (if I must translate it, I would say it’s more or less the equivalent of “snobs”, but there’s so much more to it…) are known for their hilarious pronunciation (desperate to sound English, often failing miserably) and exaggerated use of the interjection “ta”. I could write a book about this phenomenon, but in today's post my focus is not on pronunciation...
I’ve been living in Malta for two years and nine months. I love this country, its history, its culture and its people. I hate… spelling errors. They’re everywhere. A typo is no big deal (just in case your eyes are scanning the screen in search of MY typos – yes, even translators and proofreaders sometimes fail in the spelling department), but some mistakes just can’t be forgiven.
The Maltese (I don’t like generalising, but sometimes one’s got no choice) just can’t seem to get it right. Today I bought four rolls at the supermarket and guess what… the packet says “ones thawed do not refreeze” (should read “once” of course). Okay, that’s a minor one, but what about this: “denger” spray-painted in huge red letters across a high wall surrounding a building site? Or better even: “no parkink”, not once, not twice, but three times! Then there’s the classics: “recieve”, the “it's”/“its” confusion and “responsable”. And our “foriegn” visitors should “definately” taste our wonderful “saucage” rolls on the promenade…
Why Amy? Why??
That's what my boyfriend Andre' will say when I tell him I've embarked on this new adventure.
BLOGGING... it's the new trend, isn't it? I've been thinking about creating my own blog for a while. And today I've finally done it! Hurray to me! Now the big question is: what on earth am I going to write about? Everything and nothing, really. Is my life interesting enough to entertain people? Hmm, I doubt it, but then again, high entertainment value is not my main priority.
Where shall I start? Maybe I should try to explain what inspired me to start blogging (apart from my innate inability to steer away from trends). I work from home. Yes, that's right... I'm one of the lucky few who can work in their pyjamas, eat rubbish all day (not that I do... oh well, maybe sometimes), watch TV while finishing projects (daytime TV turns out to be a compilation of Maury, Jerry Springer and other quality talk shows) and walk the dog in the middle of the day (or rather: BE walked by the 41-kg lab)... so when I'm not doing all that (and I should be cleaning the flat, cooking or doing other so-called "useful tasks"), I enjoy surfing the net (unfortunately not in search of interesting websites, but rather to satisfy my curiosity for utterly ridiculous facts and figures, celebrity "news" and interior design tips for our 80 sqm living room, which one year after purchase still stands half-empty, much to the irritation of both myself and my boyfriend). Why not waste my time boring other surfers in pursuit of sweet nothingness (and my family living 3000 km up north) with my "thought-out thoughts" about life, work, everything and nothing? Have nothing better to do? Then watch this space! :)
BLOGGING... it's the new trend, isn't it? I've been thinking about creating my own blog for a while. And today I've finally done it! Hurray to me! Now the big question is: what on earth am I going to write about? Everything and nothing, really. Is my life interesting enough to entertain people? Hmm, I doubt it, but then again, high entertainment value is not my main priority.
Where shall I start? Maybe I should try to explain what inspired me to start blogging (apart from my innate inability to steer away from trends). I work from home. Yes, that's right... I'm one of the lucky few who can work in their pyjamas, eat rubbish all day (not that I do... oh well, maybe sometimes), watch TV while finishing projects (daytime TV turns out to be a compilation of Maury, Jerry Springer and other quality talk shows) and walk the dog in the middle of the day (or rather: BE walked by the 41-kg lab)... so when I'm not doing all that (and I should be cleaning the flat, cooking or doing other so-called "useful tasks"), I enjoy surfing the net (unfortunately not in search of interesting websites, but rather to satisfy my curiosity for utterly ridiculous facts and figures, celebrity "news" and interior design tips for our 80 sqm living room, which one year after purchase still stands half-empty, much to the irritation of both myself and my boyfriend). Why not waste my time boring other surfers in pursuit of sweet nothingness (and my family living 3000 km up north) with my "thought-out thoughts" about life, work, everything and nothing? Have nothing better to do? Then watch this space! :)
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