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…

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!

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?

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…

Trust me, life IS beautiful here. I would never move back to Northern Europe. Like every country, Malta has its flaws… but what beats pastizzi and Kinnie at Cordina on a sunny Sunday morning? Hmm, maybe lemon meringue at Fontanella… You get the picture!

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…

There’s still work out there for people like me… despite the recession!

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! :)