Magical melting pot

Despite a long and troubled history, the Maltese continue to talk in all the tongues of their conquerors effortlessly and nearly always with a smile writes Brian Johnston for Perth Now in Australia:

Surrounded by the blue Mediterranean, Malta is a fascinating melting pot of cultures and history...When it comes to language, Malta is confusing. Maltese is related to Arabic, but turn on the TV and there's a blast of Italian, from across the sea. Many locals also use idiosyncratic English, a legacy of the British who controlled the island until the 1960s. Malta also came under the Romans, Arabs, Normans, Aragonese, Knights of St John and the French. The Maltese are enjoying their independence, but one can feel the weight of their history in every syllable.

"Good evening'' sounds like French (bonsoir), "excuse me'' like Italian (skuzi), but "please'' sounds like - well, I never did work out how to pronounce jekk joghgbok. Unravelling the language and history of Malta is one of the great pleasures of a visit to this tiny Mediterranean country. It starts at Ghar Dalam in the east of the island, where we visit a prehistoric cave and inspect the remains of a dwarf elephant and hippo. Then, we see the Maltese- built sophisticated temples. Tarxien is the best known, but looks like a jumble of old stones. Better to head to Hagar Qim and Mnajdra, which impress with monumental entrances and a spectacular setting high above the sea.

The temple people disappeared mysteriously to be replaced by tunnelling early Christians. The Romans called their underground passageways hypogea. The best are at Hal Saflieni, near Tarxien, where we descend 7m into a labyrinth of carved and painted underground chambers. In Rabat's catacombs, 1000-year-old skeletons line the walls - a sight not for the squeamish, but actually strangely moving. Inside the church in Rabat, there is also the grotto in which St Paul sheltered when shipwrecked off Malta in AD60. Legend has it that stone taken from the grotto will grow again, but a caretaker in the corner ensures we don't put this claim to the test..

Public transport is frequent and a good alternative, allowing a glimpse of island life. The dilapidated Ford buses are easy to use, provided you aren't unnerved by the drivers, who peer through windscreens covered with dangling Virgin Mary replicas and stickers imploring "Holy Face of Jesus Save This Bus''. Either way, with just a few prayers we can be on the northern coast, where resort towns straggle for kilometres: St Julian's, Bugibba, Mellieha Bay, Paradise Bay. Sadly, no one will be admiring these concrete blocks in centuries to come, and Australians will be unimpressed with the beaches crammed with northern European sunworshippers.

Most Valletta streets were named after Italian saints and the occasional archbishop. When the British came along they added Abercrombie, Hastings and Victoria. Even the grand old Duke of York got an avenue. Cricket, red telephone boxes and a liking for custard tarts were also left behind. The secret to appreciating Malta is to look and listen to the words that are all around...