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Arrived, safe, well, tired
Mar. 19th, 2006 02:10 pmSo, we have arrived on the island of Gozo. The saga of our journey is short and uninteresting - save that if one is getting the last plane from Dublin to Malta on a Saturday, and one intends to travel on to Gozo that same night, one should make very sure that the plane takes off and lands on time.
Thanks to a very fast driver, we made the ferry on time. With one minute, precisely, to spare. One.
Praise god fasting, and all that. The next one wouldn't have left the ferry-port until nearly 4 a.m.
We arrived at the hotel after 0300 hours, Malta time. It's one of the nicest hotels I've ever stayed in, and the staff are the helpful-est of helpful people.
It has, obviously, an internet connection. But the keyboard is weird.
The weather continues blustery but warm. It's good to get the damp out of one's bones for a while. The air here smells of dust and heat and herbs; the wind blows from the south, up from the Sahara, across the shallow sea of the Med. We're on high point in the middle of the island: walking down the road that leads from the hotel to the nearest village, you can see the sea away on both sides.
Last night, racing across Malta for the ferry, was like driving through a dreamscape. Buildings looming up out of the night, apartment blocks side by side with ancient churches, the glitter of lights in the distance and the switchbacks of a road between rocks; then coming down by the shore, the water black and gleaming in the night.
It's strange to be away. And weird to be here, in a place that has history laid down over history laid down over the bones of the earth. Like a map with a key you can't decipher: the past is half a breath away, and you just can't make it out.
I'm running on a sleep deficit and fumes. Tomorrow we take a trip into Victoria, and see the Citadel. Some more of that history, and the possibility of diving, in the near future.
Later. Now I go to die on a bed (again).
Thanks to a very fast driver, we made the ferry on time. With one minute, precisely, to spare. One.
Praise god fasting, and all that. The next one wouldn't have left the ferry-port until nearly 4 a.m.
We arrived at the hotel after 0300 hours, Malta time. It's one of the nicest hotels I've ever stayed in, and the staff are the helpful-est of helpful people.
It has, obviously, an internet connection. But the keyboard is weird.
The weather continues blustery but warm. It's good to get the damp out of one's bones for a while. The air here smells of dust and heat and herbs; the wind blows from the south, up from the Sahara, across the shallow sea of the Med. We're on high point in the middle of the island: walking down the road that leads from the hotel to the nearest village, you can see the sea away on both sides.
Last night, racing across Malta for the ferry, was like driving through a dreamscape. Buildings looming up out of the night, apartment blocks side by side with ancient churches, the glitter of lights in the distance and the switchbacks of a road between rocks; then coming down by the shore, the water black and gleaming in the night.
It's strange to be away. And weird to be here, in a place that has history laid down over history laid down over the bones of the earth. Like a map with a key you can't decipher: the past is half a breath away, and you just can't make it out.
I'm running on a sleep deficit and fumes. Tomorrow we take a trip into Victoria, and see the Citadel. Some more of that history, and the possibility of diving, in the near future.
Later. Now I go to die on a bed (again).
