It´s no wonder the Maltese are cross.

Their small, yet strategically-located islands have been appropriated by almost every Mediterranean conquering force, from the Greeks, Romans, Carthaginians and Phoenicians in ancient times, then the Normans, Arabs, the crusading Knights Hospitallers, the Spanish and the Turks, to, in more recent centuries, the French and the British. They narrowly avoided being "acquired" by the Russians post-Napoleon and during World War II, famously held out against a prolonged Italian and German air raid that lasted several months in 1942, or else these three nations could have been added to this list.

With such an array of influences, it's difficult for the visitor to put their finger on just what makes Malta Malta, and a Maltese a Maltese. There is some debate within Malta itself about the DNA origins and make up of the current population, with the debate (not all of it scientific) bouncing between Sicily and Cantabria in southern Italy, (http://www.alleanza-malta.org/forum/showthread.php?t=71) and Phoenician, or Levantine (http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0410/feature2/online_extra.html).

Certainly, I found the architecture non-specific, the cuisine unremarkable and the people themselves resemble many southern Europeans. Their unique language though, which has survived, is intriguing. Apparently it's the only semitic language to use the Latin script, which helps only a little when trying to pronounce place names like Marsaxlokk and Birzebbuga.


A little like Euskari in the Basque Country, there are lots of "x's" and "k's" in Maltese, usually pronounced softly.

Our trip was only to be a few days, the first of which was somewhat compromised by a change in travel plans. Our scheduled 6pm flight from Malaga to Barcelona was delayed four hours, which meant that, instead of a night in an airport hotel at Girona (about 80km north of Barcelona) before our early morning flight from there to Malta, we spent the night at Barcelona's bus depot, waiting for Ryan Air's 3.15am bus.

After that though, everything was to plan, and we arrived in Malta early on a bright and breezy morning. Our trusty Maltese guidebook advised airport buses were unreliable and that it was better to use a taxi. However, while taking a much needed early morning coffee break at the airport before venturing further, we spotted the distinctive yellow American school-like bus waiting just outside. We wandered over and sat in the bus stop with another bloke who turned out to be the driver. "Just get on," he growled. And we did. We learned not to argue with a Maltese.

The Maltese buses are a real attraction - and at only 47 cents (about 30p) for most trips, a real bargain too. The drivers are Malta's most useful tourist guides and do a fine line in barking bus route numbers at the tourists. But their buses must be the most "inspected" I've ever come across. Even though it's impossible to get on a bus without paying a fare, of the dozen or so bus rides we took at least half of them included a separate ticket inspection.

Dozens of these buses link all of Malta. There are some newer vehicles, but most date back around 40 years. The bus company is a cooperative, owned by all the drivers, but the fares are so low, I wonder how they make a living, and can afford to keep their faithful beasts on the road.

In my mind all Mediterranean islands are beautiful - craggy cliffs, sparkling sand and sea, valleys, fields and quaint towns and villages. Well, some undoubtedly are, but not Malta. Before we left, Tom, a neighbour whose mother is Maltese, said, "You'll find it a bit scruffy, but then I haven't been there for 40 years!" But Tom was still right. Maybe it's the dust, the lack of landscaping, or the monotonous countryside, but the trip from the airport to the Valletta bus depot was uninspiring.

Rather than sensibly jumping on another bus to our hotel in Sliema, a coastal promontory across the harbour, I had decided (before lack of sleep was a factor) that we would arrive there by ferry. It fitted my romantic notion of the Mediterranean island holiday, which was already suffering a little. This meant, instead of walking 20m and paying another 47c each, we walked a kilometre and paid two euros each. I like to think it was worth it, but I wasn't wheeling the suitcase. Anyway, arrive by ferry we did - a gentle 10 minute chug across the harbour to our hotel, conveniently located across the road from a bus stop, and only kilometre or so from the ferry terminal.

115 The Strand is an imposing address, and the pictures on the web site looked good. I'm sure some rooms had nice views, but we got to see into the central well of the building, looking down five floors and across to our three similarly located neighbours. No views, and very little natural light to boot. Still, a quiet, gloomy room was just what we needed on arrival. A siesta was in order. We spent the afternoon strolling around the pretty Sliema waterfront, admiring the picturesque bay of St Julians and finishing off the day with a genuine Indian curry, complete with English county cricket on TV. It could have been worse...

The next day as we set off to explore the capital of Valletta - named after a Grand Master of the Order of St John - we began to realise that Malta is still being invaded, by tourists this time. Mostly English and German - and that the Maltese, or those that work in the service industry anyway, have developed a healthy disdain for us all. There seems something in the Maltese psyche that regards foreigners as not to be trusted, to be barely tolerated, even though over one million of us visit their islands every year and there are exhortations everywhere for foreigners to buy property. Could it be millennia of invasions, or are they just over-touristed?

We arrived, by bus this time, back at Valletta in time for a rain shower. Not on the agenda for a classic Mediterranean island holiday, my preconceptions of which were rapidly being reassessed. However, the Maltese do have great cafes and coffee, and we waited out the rain in the square, just through the City Gates. It didn't take long in Valletta to begin to get a sense of the country's speckled history. The main pedestrian thoroughfare is Republic Street - though it's pedestrian only in that cars don't drive down it; plenty drive across it. Malta became a republic in 1974, joined the European Union in 2004, and converted from the Maltese pound to the euro in January 2008. But the most obvious artefact of Malta's history is the miles of fortifications around Valletta, and, as we were to discover, other vulnerable parts of the island.



Looking across Marsamxett Harbour from Sliema to Valletta and Fort St Elmo, you can see some of the extensive fortifications, which extend for miles around the coastline.

Built mostly by the Knights of the Order of St John, after they arrived here in 1530, and used to great effect to eventually ward off the Turks in 1565, these walls, watchtowers, bastions and barracks also played their part in the second great siege of Malta during 1942.

Valletta was built by the Knights, and the old steep streets of the town, with glimpses of the sea, is a charming medieval relic, complete with modern day traffic, power lines and neon.

Valletta´s modern skyline, always with a church dome in view it seems.

The Knights Hospitallers were not just engineers. They were also town planners, and Valletta was designed and regulated from its first days. These early architects have left behind not just Europe's first city built to a grid, but a dozen churches and their associated auberges (inns in which visiting Knights would be accommodated), and of course a hospital, since restored as a convention centre. The Sacra Infermeria was completed in 1575 and became known for its 150 metre long ward. Continuing the medical connection, during the Crimean War and World War I, injured soldiers were shipped to Malta to convalesce and the island became known as "the nurse of the Mediterranean".

Some of the auberges were destroyed during WWII, others are now either being restored, or used for various government purposes. There were originally eight of them, divided by language: Aragon, Auvergne, Castile & Portugal, Provence, England, France, Germany and Italy - hinting at a very different European map to that which exists today. The English langue, not surprisingly, was suppressed by Henry VIII, so never contributed fully to the Order.

This clock is in the Prince Alfred Courtyard of the Order's Grand Palace. The hour is struck by two Moslem slave figures, cast in bronze.

The Knights have left their mark in other ways too - the classic Maltese cross, seen below in a window grill, also features on street signs, the reverse of their euro coin and on plenty of souvenirs.

Though the Knights cemented Catholicism in Malta, the islands had been Christian since shortly after St Paul was shipwrecked along the coast in round 60AD. He spent some months on the island, living in a grotto over which St Paul's Church has been built. Paul, in his writings, specifically mentions and thanks the people of Malta: "After we had reached safety, we then learned that the island was called Malta. The natives showed us unusual kindness." -- Acts 28:1

The church and the nearby catacombs are in Rabat, just outside Mdina, Malta's original capital, and these days billed as "one of the best preserved medieval cities in the world". The catacombs are extensive underground vaults, through which you are guided by an atmospheric audio tour. Not only are there spaces for over 1000 bodies, there is also a rock hewn table and benches, where funerary feasts could have been held.