Last Day in Malta

I've been online for anywhere from 10 minutes to 90 every day -- past dinner (we've usually finished up and paid the bill around 9:00 - 9:30) there isn't much open, and I've been lax about reading.

But you'll have noticed a distinct lack of entries.

Part of this is that I'm saving up to give the experience the detail and time it deserves (Not that you could tell from the length of some of my e-mails). Mostly, I've been in "recieve" mode the whole time. I've been taking things in, and I haven't especially been wanting to write about what I've been seeing/doing. Or wanting to write at all, though I scribed a partial essay musing on certain details of my island culture (The resemblance that that culture bears to anything Italian or Maltese is almost nil, really, as Malta is an overcrowded, busy place that is heavily built up, full of highly ornamented ornate stonework, is near monochromatic, is riddled with harbours full of boats, constantly visited by tourists and merchants from other countries, it's semi-arid and poor in ground wildlife of any size -- and you can reverse almost all of those details completely for the Sywelan islands.

It still gives me ideas. Now I've seen with my own eyes what those fenced and terraced hillsides would look like; I've swum in the ocean again, in three different bays. I've been forcibly reminded how much stronger is the sun, and how the constant, almost oppressive heat can feel (Malta in May is supposed to be closer to 25 Celsius than the 30-35 we've been getting -- it's dry like our summers, but our summers tend to provide more relief at night. OTOH, I'd need the huge dampness of the South Pacific to really get into it.) Plus, of course, there's the culture meant to be loosely based on the Italian Renaissance, which I hadn't been thinking about at all when we went this way. Hee.

There's also the experience of feeling a fish out of water, of wandering where people don't speak your language at all, or where people don't speak your language first. There's the whole feel of being known for a stranger at once (I was striving to capture that feeling with Patar, so that the fact that you don't get it with Gaitann, the actual foreigner, can get weirder and weirder as the book goes on.)

I've got so much to absorb, to take in under my skin. The photos we've taken fall into several categories; the usual travel shots, of where we've been and what we've seen, the shots for the pleasure of other people -- I keep thinking, wait until Robin sees just how many different types of knightly figurines, good, bad, good because of how they're bad, suprisingly artistic, etc, we've passed by. Plus, of course, we took photos of all kinds of late 16th and early 17th century armour and weaponry that's as much for the other SCAdians as for us -- and the sheer self-indulgence shots, like the patterned tiles I thought I could translate into more clay carving, but I doubt anyone else would glance at for a moment.

So, it seems I'm still not talking about what I've actually done. Sorry. There's a lot to talk about. When I get home, I'll probably start pouring it out. Right now, i'd rather get with the doing.

A few random thoughts, though:

- Today was the first day I got badly sunburned. My skin has reddened before, but not hurt. Whoops.

- So far I've bought a bunch of postcards, a small glass bowl, a magnet and a small booklet as souvenirs, plus a "Rock" as a small gift for someone. I've collected a handful of seashells as freebies,a dn taken a bunch of photos. I did not buy, but rather pined for, a silver filigree seahorse pin (Silver filigree work is a traditional Maltese art and a huge souvenir business -- but the seahorse was at the cheapest such store on the island.) I also bought another Indian Cotton long sleeved shirt on a day I desperately needed such to prevent the kind of serious sunburn I gave myself today, but I hardly count it as a souvenir, as it's much like the sort of thing I could have bought at home, though the kinds of long skirts and indian-ish shirts I like are even mroe common here. Colin has bought... nothing. He wanted one book.

- The Co-Cathedral has all of one mediocre postcard with anything worthwhile about the gorgeous manuscripts they have on display. (Lots on the admittedly beautiful, violent, and troubling Caravaggio, and even a few things on the crucifix that darn near floored me, but that's hardly a help. And a biullion things on their floor tiles. All worthwhile, but...) The sole book was all yellowed pictures that showed nothing of the colour and too little of the details -- we could have taken better with our digitals. But it was in a no photography area. Those of you in The Barony who do illumination, now is your chance to shriek in fury. The details would have been soooooo worth breaking that rule for.

- I've been missing music very much. A great many of the restaurants, taxis and the like have something playing, usually 1980's pop, and we heard snippets of the Eurovision song contest a few nights ago from where a party were watching it on a rooftop near our guesthouse, but I've been having a big craving for Richard Thompson. And right now, someone at the other end of the Internet cafe has been entertaining their rugrat with a website or something that has been playing mostly "The Wheels on the Bus...." Over. And Over. and Over.

- The ferry leaves at 7:00 AM tomorrow. There is NO alternate time. On any day. Ever. *$&^#.

- I've been having a stupidly good time. I expect to on the visit to Pompeii and the return to Rome, too...

- CATS. Everywhere. Living outdoors, eternally dusty, much battle-scarred cats (Except the kittens, who are not the last.) Skittish about people who do't feed them, though. I miss my own indoor, friendly, clean, affectionate cats, but these are entertaining.

Last Day in Malta

I've been online for anywhere from 10 minutes to 90 every day -- past dinner (we've usually finished up and paid the bill around 9:00 - 9:30) there isn't much open, and I've been lax about reading.

But you'll have noticed a distinct lack of entries.

Part of this is that I'm saving up to give the experience the detail and time it deserves (Not that you could tell from the length of some of my e-mails). Mostly, I've been in "recieve" mode the whole time. I've been taking things in, and I haven't especially been wanting to write about what I've been seeing/doing. Or wanting to write at all, though I scribed a partial essay musing on certain details of my island culture (The resemblance that that culture bears to anything Italian or Maltese is almost nil, really, as Malta is an overcrowded, busy place that is heavily built up, full of highly ornamented ornate stonework, is near monochromatic, is riddled with harbours full of boats, constantly visited by tourists and merchants from other countries, it's semi-arid and poor in ground wildlife of any size -- and you can reverse almost all of those details completely for the Sywelan islands.

It still gives me ideas. Now I've seen with my own eyes what those fenced and terraced hillsides would look like; I've swum in the ocean again, in three different bays. I've been forcibly reminded how much stronger is the sun, and how the constant, almost oppressive heat can feel (Malta in May is supposed to be closer to 25 Celsius than the 30-35 we've been getting -- it's dry like our summers, but our summers tend to provide more relief at night. OTOH, I'd need the huge dampness of the South Pacific to really get into it.) Plus, of course, there's the culture meant to be loosely based on the Italian Renaissance, which I hadn't been thinking about at all when we went this way. Hee.

There's also the experience of feeling a fish out of water, of wandering where people don't speak your language at all, or where people don't speak your language first. There's the whole feel of being known for a stranger at once (I was striving to capture that feeling with Patar, so that the fact that you don't get it with Gaitann, the actual foreigner, can get weirder and weirder as the book goes on.)

I've got so much to absorb, to take in under my skin. The photos we've taken fall into several categories; the usual travel shots, of where we've been and what we've seen, the shots for the pleasure of other people -- I keep thinking, wait until Robin sees just how many different types of knightly figurines, good, bad, good because of how they're bad, suprisingly artistic, etc, we've passed by. Plus, of course, we took photos of all kinds of late 16th and early 17th century armour and weaponry that's as much for the other SCAdians as for us -- and the sheer self-indulgence shots, like the patterned tiles I thought I could translate into more clay carving, but I doubt anyone else would glance at for a moment.

So, it seems I'm still not talking about what I've actually done. Sorry. There's a lot to talk about. When I get home, I'll probably start pouring it out. Right now, i'd rather get with the doing.

A few random thoughts, though:

- Today was the first day I got badly sunburned. My skin has reddened before, but not hurt. Whoops.

- So far I've bought a bunch of postcards, a small glass bowl, a magnet and a small booklet as souvenirs, plus a "Rock" as a small gift for someone. I've collected a handful of seashells as freebies,a dn taken a bunch of photos. I did not buy, but rather pined for, a silver filigree seahorse pin (Silver filigree work is a traditional Maltese art and a huge souvenir business -- but the seahorse was at the cheapest such store on the island.) I also bought another Indian Cotton long sleeved shirt on a day I desperately needed such to prevent the kind of serious sunburn I gave myself today, but I hardly count it as a souvenir, as it's much like the sort of thing I could have bought at home, though the kinds of long skirts and indian-ish shirts I like are even mroe common here. Colin has bought... nothing. He wanted one book.

- The Co-Cathedral has all of one mediocre postcard with anything worthwhile about the gorgeous manuscripts they have on display. (Lots on the admittedly beautiful, violent, and troubling Caravaggio, and even a few things on the crucifix that darn near floored me, but that's hardly a help. And a biullion things on their floor tiles. All worthwhile, but...) The sole book was all yellowed pictures that showed nothing of the colour and too little of the details -- we could have taken better with our digitals. But it was in a no photography area. Those of you in The Barony who do illumination, now is your chance to shriek in fury. The details would have been soooooo worth breaking that rule for.

- I've been missing music very much. A great many of the restaurants, taxis and the like have something playing, usually 1980's pop, and we heard snippets of the Eurovision song contest a few nights ago from where a party were watching it on a rooftop near our guesthouse, but I've been having a big craving for Richard Thompson. And right now, someone at the other end of the Internet cafe has been entertaining their rugrat with a website or something that has been playing mostly "The Wheels on the Bus...." Over. And Over. and Over.

- The ferry leaves at 7:00 AM tomorrow. There is NO alternate time. On any day. Ever. *$&^#.

- I've been having a stupidly good time. I expect to on the visit to Pompeii and the return to Rome, too...

- CATS. Everywhere. Living outdoors, eternally dusty, much battle-scarred cats (Except the kittens, who are not the last.) Skittish about people who do't feed them, though. I miss my own indoor, friendly, clean, affectionate cats, but these are entertaining.