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Stories from travels in

Malta

Open house with a difference

When I first hit the States, I was intrigued by the idea of open house. Where I come from, it means that anyone can drop

The inquisitors

I’ve been a tourist long enough to know that it’s impossible to see it all first time, or even seventh time. I’ve been going to

The backstory

What’s that flower? How old is that church? Are all those cows milking cows? I don’t know, he answered. I don’t know. I don’t know.

2014 Grateful 37

As I child, I gave up chocolate each Lent. I’d hoard every bar I was given as a present until Easter Sunday when I’d gorge

Il-banda

il-banda

I still get occasional flashbacks to playing in the school band. I failed miserably with the accordion, had slightly better success with the melodica (mine

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Making travel compulsory

I travel. A lot. And I love it. I like finding new places, seeing new things, meeting different people. And when I go back again

The great citizen sell-off

Driving to my hotel from the airport in Malta last week, I fell into conversation with the taxi driver. He spoke English, the language of

The separation of person and passport

My greatest fear, as a traveller, was realised last week. For years, I’ve broken out in a cold sweat when hotel receptionists ask me for

Popeye’s village in Malta

The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see. So said  G. K. Chesterton many moons ago and although

From the inside out

For the first time in a long time I’m enjoying how I look. I still don’t have that hourglass figure I’ve craved for what seems

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