Rome! One of the oldest cities in Europe. Full of history, charm, and dirt. Architecturally and culturally Rome is incredible, but after seeing how clean the German railroad stations and airports are Rome could take a few lessons. After a restless night of sleep I was not fully prepared for the full force of the Italian experience. It only took me an hour to locate the travel agency that unbeknownst to me was only forty feet away from the train that I arrived on and by then I was fairly exhausted. This was due to the fact that I was carrying all my luggage (Oh! and guess what I was wearing again) all around the station. At this agency I had the displeasure of having a conversation that sounded rather familiar.
-"Excuse me, can you tell me where the ferry that goes between Sicily and Malta leaves from?"
-"To Malta from Sicily? There is no ferry to Malta from Sicily."
-"Sure there is. I was in Malta last year and I'm positive there's a ferry."
-"Well, there's no ferry anymore. What you should do is go to another tourist agency and maybe they can tell you a way to get there."
This was then followed by him making surly comparison between me and Oedipus Rex and a nasty reference to my genitalia. I'm not fluent in Italian, but I know enough to recognize some of these words.
I walked all over Rome to three other travel agencies and not only received the same answer to my question, but also the frequent bombardment of insults. What really amazed me though was that there was no ferry. Malta is so close to Sicily that on a clear day you can see it. If you really wanted to you could swim there! Realizing that my original plan was completely obliterated I needed a new one. The only other way there was by plane and since I was in Rome I just went to the airport and bought a ticket.
It goes without saying that since the travel agencies in Rome had me walking all around that I missed that last flight to Malta by about twenty minutes and spent the night in the airport until my flight the next day.
MALTA
As I've stated, I've been to Malta before and it still amazes me. The island is great place to visit. It's a beautiful, rocky little island surrounded by crystal clear water and it has a history that has given the culture a certain "richness." It's the "culture" in particular that I'm referring to though.
It's origins are Italian, Arabic and English giving them some strong traits which they incorporated into their daily lives, but they've also been attacked and colonized by invading parties which also have had a deep rooted effect upon the people.
This brings me to another interesting story. One night, having nothing to do my friend and I are walking around the capital city of Valletta talking As we were walking on a road next to one of the city walls which extended about sixty meters up something hit the ground near us. Personally I thought I must have kick a stone or something, but my friend stopped and looked up. She saw that it was some young people who were throwing things down at us for not reasons. These "things" were actually rocks the size of my fist, which from that height would gain enough velocity to crack open our skulls like an egg if it had it.
After pondering the situation in for a few brief seconds I thought the best plan of action was "RUN FOR COVER!" Unfortunately, my friend thought it wise to scream back insults at them. She swore like a drunken sailor. In fact, I must have jumped a foot a back from her in surprise as she used words and phrases that shocked and embarrassed me (and I thought I knew them all!). Her tactic was unsuccessful and only brought about an incredibly massive show or force on their part as the sky began to rain with these head crushing rocks.
I'm not sure what would have been the best thing to do at that time. The city is a maze of streets and alleys, a virtual Labyrinth. I, being the accidental tourist, would have no chance of finding them. Even if I did find them I estimate the odds of me actually surviving hand to hand combat with about ten opponents and however many friends they can gather with them is about one and a million. I do know that my friends next choice of action was not the one I would have chosen. She ferociously challenged them to come down and fight. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!" I thought starring at her "They're going to kill us! Let's just get out of here!" and then all of the sudden the stones stopped. "Did her strategy work?" you might wonder. The answer is "no" because about two minuets later a car came roaring out of one of the gates on to the road headed for us. Luckily we were able to get off the road onto the path next to it. Normally I would have bolted down the path like a jackrabbit, but the occupants of the vehicle were two twelve year old boys. "I was almost killed by them!! You little bastards!!" What followed for the next few minutes was a battle of insults on both our parts. I thought about approaching the car, but decided against it thinking that if they could get they're nasty little hands on a car, perhaps they could have obtained a weapon of some sort. I didn't want to find out the hard way and kept my distance.
Finally, they drove off and left me to start considering taking a flight back soon, the next day was looking preferable. As we continued walking into the city we walked up on a certain terrace were there was a monument of some kind. Across the street, about the same height as our terrace was another terrace with (guess who) the same group of kids! While trying to get away from them we found them (I'm so lucky). And the little rock throwing war began again. This time though there was a group of men around my age there who found our situation "amusing" until one of them almost was hit with a rock and then all hell broke lose. There was fighting, throwing and people running around. These guys suggested that they escort us out of the city because of what was going to happen. Evidently, what a lot of these children do is try force you to chase after them and fight them. Then while being chased they call out about twenty of their friends and they proceed to beat the tar out of you. This is called great fun for them.
On the way out of the city, we found a policeman and reported what had just happened. Basically he just looked at us , shrugged his shoulders and walked off. Not really the response I was hoping for. He could have at least lied to me and said he would do something about it.
The next day I did some shopping in the city and saw a fight break out in the middle of the street. I haven't been back to the city since.
I am happy to report though that the rest of my time in Malta was wonderful. I went and swam during the day and enjoyed going out at night. Although a nice place to visit, I would recommend that you be very careful if you go.
No comments:
Post a Comment