Europe Without the Angst

"Malta Is Easy; No Crowds, No Hassles: It's Europe Without the Angst" is an article about Malta written by Jonh Deiner and published in the The Washington Post Jun 15, 2003. It is no longer available online but here are some excerpts courtesy of John Deiner:

So how small is Malta, anyhow? You can see most of the country, about twice the size of D.C., from its citadels just by arcing your neck. You'll bump into that couple from Muskogee you met at Customs so often you'll be old friends by trip's end. And after a day or so, once you've gotten a handle on this secluded outcropping 60 miles south of Sicily, you may feel something you haven't felt for a while. Malta, cocooned by the Mediterranean and an infrequent topic on CNN, is Europe for scaredy-cats. As travelers grapple with the code du jour (is it orange or yellow today?) and second-guess plans to visit perceived targets like Paris or London, Malta is a low-key way to get your annual Euro-fix.

Relatively few Americans go there, and for no good reason. English (along with Maltese) is the official language, getting around is simple and cheap, there's little crime, and everything you'll want to do -from snorkeling and museum-hopping to touring ruins and tchotchke-hunting - is in close proximity...For now, though, it's a gloriously isolated place, where conversation drifts more toward local politics and soccer than Basra and al Qaeda -- and where size really does matter.

"Oh, thank God . . . Americans!" I'd actually had the opposite reaction to the five other Yanks on my coach tour, but Brian Melton was ecstatic. The New Yorker, whose would-be companions refused to make the trip because of security concerns, was reluctantly traveling solo. "Nobody wanted to come. They were afraid to get on a plane," he said. "But I wanted to get away, and Malta is so far removed from everyplace else, it's easy for me to forget about the rest of the world."

If only Malta had been so lucky. With a history predating the pyramids, it has been occupied by one uninvited guest after another, including the Phoenicians, Romans, Arabs, Normans, French and British (from whom it gained independence in 1964). Each left its mark, none more so than the Knights of St. John, the European noblemen who ruled starting in 1530. Driven away by Napoleon in 1798, the group lives on as the Order of Malta, a Christian organization that provides humanitarian aid around the globe.

Today, Malta is a smorgasbord of cultures, from the Arab names of many towns to the British phone booths on street corners. Italian trattorias and English pubs vie for diners tired after a day of exploring walled cities, baroque churches and ancient monoliths...It's one of Europe's most densely populated nations, but it's not another Hong Kong. Just minutes outside the busy capital of Valletta and its suburbs, I was surprised to see miles of empty fields and terraced gardens roll by my tour bus windows. The Maltese are so laid back you may think your plane took a wrong turn and landed in Jamaica. And like other Mediterranean countries, Malta rolls over and takes a nap every afternoon, with many shops and churches, markets and even some restaurants shuttered for a few hours.

By the time the bus deposited me in Valletta, it was perilously close to siesta, but at least the driver apologized for the delay. Having survived the war with most of its treasures intact, the city today is a splendid, hilly maze concealing open-air markets, museums, forts and, of course, churches. Before the "closed" signs made their midday appearance, I squeezed in a visit to the Co-Cathedral of St. John. Considered the piece de resistance of the islands' 360-plus churches, it doesn't impress from the street, but inside -- with its intricate carved walls and lavish paintings -- it's a knockout. In the adjoining museum, the Caravaggio masterpiece "The Beheading of St. John the Baptist" is one of the first works encountered.

Another brush with greatness awaited at the Grand Masters Palace, begun in 1571 for the knights and now the seat of Malta's parliament. Having gone through security, I assumed I'd have to go into do-not- touch mode. For the most part, that held true. But not always. After a quick look at a few rooms in the palace, a guide led me and 10 others into a chamber used by the Maltese president to greet guests. He pointed to two ornate red velvet chairs. "These, my friends, are the chairs that the president used when Queen Elizabeth and Pope John Paul II visited our country. Very important chairs," he told us. "Feel free to sit in them and take a picture." Was this guy serious? That'd be like putting your feet up on the Oval Office coffee table. I was the second person to take a seat..

As congenial as the Maltese are, I found Gozitans (as they're called) even more eager to please, and always with a spot of humor. I'd arrived that day on a morning ferry, one of the few tourists who wouldn't be catching a boat back for the night. Most of the other passengers were day-trippers bound for a flurry of sightseeing; some were booked on Jeep safaris of the island, while others planned to bus from one attraction to another. Bad idea. As I learned the easy way, Gozo can't be rushed. Market vendors are more eager to chat than move merchandise, and getting a check at the end of a meal takes longer than the time it took to consume it. Even cars move slower, though there are few stoplights to impede them..

In Victoria, the hub of island life, I wandered the ramparts of the Citadel, dating to the Middle Ages and housing museums, a cathedral (naturally) and shops, including one cubbyhole occupied by the same family of lacemakers for generations. (Lacemaking is common throughout Malta, but in Gozo, the craft reaches its zenith. If you ask nice, or at all, you can get a demonstration.) ...But all too soon it was time for me to ferry back to the main island, and eventually the flight home and a return to security alerts and news bulletins...

John Deiner discusses his article with readers