In the Mediterranean

The flight takes off from Larnaca, Cyprus. It is the fourth takeoff I have the displeasure of experiencing within 24 hours, yet for the first and only time on a flight, I am genuinely excited. The Mediterranean Sea lingers below, a deep blue colour of superb natural beauty, encasing islands of buildings unlike any I have seen previously. This is completely new territory, and ever so close to Malta.

Malta has always been shrouded in mystery. It was the place where my father was born but he had never been back in 53 years that followed. There is also the accent that my Aunt and Uncle carry. The occasional person notes my Maltese name, though this was often linked with the lack of Maltese in my appearance. I have known a number of first and second generation Maltese Australians over the years, but little of the country itself. Malta, to me, was a highly Catholic small island with a relatively high population density off the boot of Sicily in the Mediterranean.

I am not one for getting too romantic about origins, heritage or history. My curiosity was more than anything else about the people. While this interest developed over a long time, there was an incident from around 2002 that comes to mind. I met a friend's fiancé for the first time and was excited, thus managing to scare the wits out and deeply shock my new acquaintance. Shaking my head at the ramifications later, a good friend Walter suggested that culture played a part in it.

What? I hardly saw much practical difference in Maltese Australians from British Australians. Yet, looking closer, I began to see some relatively harmless but noticeable general differences. The concept of cultural influences on my own behaviour and that of family members I found fascinating. A cousin told me that their visit to Malta revealed that a lot of family member behaviour was distinctly Maltese. Curiosity beckoned - how would an entire country of eccentric, loud, extroverted people function?

To get a better view and take pictures, I position myself towards the back of the plane, away from my father, Uncle and Aunt in the United Arab Emirates plane. Every so often a friendly staff member offers food or drink, each staff member with a completely different appearance and accent, which brings much joy to this multiculturalism fan. My face is glued to the window, though we are still surely looking at Greek Islands.