Maltese customs

EdithVed who blogs at HalfWayToHuman tells the story of when she was offerred dinner and hospitality by Maltese customs officials:

In Valleta, Malta’s capital everyone spoke English to me. From the old woman in the first hostel who turned me away, to the ferry boat official who told me I couldn’t sleep in the terminal while I awaited my 4 am boat back to Sicily. “But, maybe Customs can help you. They at least might take your bag for the night so you walk the street with no heavy load,” he offered referring to the 75 lb backpack I had hauled from Heathrow to Wales to Athens to Brindisi to Siciliy and now here. I walked up the narrow, yellowed stairway he pointed me toward...

Without waiting for my answer the man walked from behind the counter and carried my backpack into a backroom, where I followed. A spaghetti western played in English on the television. “Rest here if you like and we will wake you when dinner is ready.” That is how I ended up sharing a meal of boiled potatoes, tuna, olives, bread and wine with 5 Maltese customs officials. We discussed families, national politics and September 11th. They could not fathom how or why I was traveling alone through Europe. Where was my boyfriend, they asked. After dinner, we retreated to the makeshift living room with the sofas and the television and we watched the bio of Pink on VH1. I believe they would have been watching this show even if I weren’t there. I didn’t end up in one of the security cells after all...