Malta’s capital, Valletta.
Shortly after we arrive, an oil rig squeezes through the narrow exit from the Grand Harbour. For size comparison, click on the second picture.
A gondola off the steps where George the Sixth arrived in 1943. He came to honour Malta for heroically resisting German and Italian efforts to starve the then British island into surrender.
Here, deep underground in the Lascaris War Rooms, Malta’s defence was directed and Eisenhower and Montgomery planned the Allied invasion of Sicily.
Emerging into the daylight, some rather odd ‘public art’ on my way into town. Sadly, no explanation and the efforts at censorship are certainly not mine.
Malta became independent in 1964, but signs of British rule and influence abound, which is doubtless why it’s so popular with visitors from the UK.
Unfortunately, Piccinino’s Corset House no longer is open to serve British and Maltese matrons.
On the other hand, Joe’s coffin maker and taxi service still is.
Near the cathedral, tourists record their visit.
After discreetly watching, I’m surprised to find it’s actually an entirely amicable conversation.
Nearly December in one of the city’s piazzas.
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After overnighting in Valletta, Maasdam anchors off Gozo, Malta’s second and more rural island.
A roadside shrine.
No longer in use, a mailbox dating to the reign of Victoria (VR = Victoria Regina) who died in 1901 …
… and Charlie, a retired sailor, who delightfully talks my ears off about local goings-on. Among his memories are being on an ore carrier arriving in Sept-Îsles, Quebec, in the depths of winter. “Cold? All that kept me warm was dreaming of Malta.”
