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.

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…