This morning’s weather is rather more benign than yesterday’s, with the wind coming from a more westerly direction and the sky a rich, deep blue once again. The white-caps still chase each other across the ocean, but they’re playful rather than malicious.
Damage from the wind seems most evident on the tree-lined esplanade, with leaves all over the place and numerous palm fronds littering the pavement. What could, however, look like a disaster area of flora, is anything but. Street sweepers are out this morning, dicing with death on the roadside as traffic (Maltese drivers take no prisoners) hurtles past with scant regard for their seemingly vulnerable position.
While the big clean up goes on I ponder my fellow guests in this hotel.
I accept there’s no such thing as a perfect hotel, so I always book the best I can afford. I mean, you only get what you pay for, don’t you? You can ask for a balcony; you can ask for a sea view or any number of extras, but you can’t request no Eastern Europeans, can you?
I’m an easy going sort of person and, since I’ve been in Malta I’ve met and had pleasant conversations with Dutch, Germans, English and Italians. I’ve been on nodding terms with Japanese. As expected, there are zillions of Maltese here and I’ve had happy exchanges with all I’ve met. But then there are the others…
I never thought the rise of the European Union and the fall of the Berlin Wall would have such a down side but, between them, these two major events have brought upon Western Europe an onslaught of bullies, of uncouth louts, loud and large, whose main purpose in life is to make everyone else’s a misery. And that’s just the women.
Stepping out of the lift the other day I was forcibly shoved back inside by four matryoshka (babushka) dolls; in the restaurant where breakfast is a d.i.y. smorgasbord, I was trodden on by a hefty lump of tattooed beef while trying to spoon scrambled egg on to my plate.
The occupants of the next room are similar. They are large and noisy and were out on the town until the early hours, when they returned to the hotel shouting at each other, then slammed the room door and crashed – or trashed – furniture.
I did so enjoy helping my door to slam at 7.30am as I headed down for an early breakfast this morning. I hope they were not too drunk to sleep through it. There are some people it’s only right and proper to wish a murderously severe hangover upon.