I feel compelled to recommence my blog as I’ve just had the
most interesting conversation with my hotel transfer driver in Malta.
Ironically on the plane I had a chat to the Aussie girl next
to me when I explained that I was travelling on my own as the stars weren’t
aligned in my companionship at present – Becs moved to Miami, Cait had to work,
Lee’s festival tickets sold out and he couldn’t get cheap flights. Anyway, I
was telling this girl how I can’t even be bothered to make friends, I just want
to enjoy some sun (It’s snowed in London the last 3 days) a book, and some good
food. I told her that you never know who you will meet though and told her
about the time I had an overnight stay in Grand Cayman and I was asking the
transfer driver about food and he then proceeded to drop everyone else off
first, taking me to dinner. It was a fair deviation across the island, but it
was awesome, and for some reason I wasn’t scared in the slightest, he was just
a really nice guy that liked food and wanted company. She said as we parted
ways ‘maybe you’ll get a nice transfer driver.’
I exited the doors at Malta airport to a swarm of signs, I was
laughing as I cut three laps of the swarm looking for my name. It wasn’t obvious
as when I finally saw it, it was a short little round man in an old suit. I sat
in the front as I said I wanted to see everything. Then he told me off as I was
responding to a text a guy had sent asking for a date on Tuesday as the weather
is supposed to be good (I’ll save that for another blog!) he was like ‘I thought
you wanted to see scenery not texting!’ so I put down my phone and looked out
the window…
Naturally I asked him about the Maltese food, and he said it
is Mediterranean influenced, the food is good here and he used to be a chef. I
said I was half Italian so I loved Mediterranean food, I also remember my mate
Tom’s mum Rose being an awesome cook and me looking for any excuse to go there
for dins after uni. When I told him I was half Italian, he was so excited,
explaining to me he was from Rome and then the story took an interesting turn.
This guy was a chef for Gaddalfi. He used to spend 3 months on in Libya and one
month off (in Malta) and he said he was treated well by Gaddafi, who loved
Malta and visited Malta. I asked him what Gaddalfi ate and he said it was cous
cous, lamb, chicken or seafood, rice, beans and he also loved Maltese food. He said
although he was treated well in the camp, (the only place where they allowed
alcohol in Libya) others weren’t so lucky. Gaddalfi was mad, and he would get
angry at one person and then kill all their family. He said he once saw him kill
200 people once. He said that life in Libya was dangerous, the local markets
were like weapon stock piles and that the Arabs were mad; they could just kill
you if there was a disagreement and then rather than it be investigated, it
would just be said it was a part of the war. I told him how unsettled and vulnerable I felt in Egypt and then he said I was crazy - 'you should never travel to Arab countries as they are all crazy' he said. Though for this danger, and as
Gaddalfi liked him, he was paid well; 7000 euros a month, with a 1000 euro bonus
every 3 months. We spoke for the whole time, his English was awesome, he spoke
Arabic to Gaddalfi though and as he was Italian, he spoke to me in Italian too
(mine poco poco).
It reminded me of another story I was told by my Serbian
plasterer many years ago when I worked onsite. I was explaining where my Nonno
was from in Italy and that it sat on the Croatian border. I told him how the
war consumed 8 years of my Nonno’s life, being a prisoner by the Germans and
the Soviets as the Italians switched sides, they were treated like traitors. He
was in one of the last labour camps to be liberated and spent the next few
years walking home from Germany, returning many years after the war had ended. That
prompted my almost 2m tall Serbian plaster to tell me that he used to be on the
national basketball team when the civil war broke out in Yugoslavia. He said that
the worst thing about the war was when his Croatian team mates suddenly hated
him because he was Serbian. He was also imprisoned. Emancipated he weighed barely
60kgs when he was freed. He was upset by the fighting he witnessed in Australia
between the 2nd and third generation Croatians and Serbs, as he just
felt like there was no need and no one had learnt their lesson. (For anyone interested, there is a cool doco Once Brothers that tells of a similar story https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Once_Brothers).
Back to my plane journey over and the Aussie girl on the
plane was telling me about her Israeli ‘bad Jew that eats bacon’ boyfriend. We
also spoke about Tel Aviv (I so want to go), Nazareth and Jerusalem, all places
she was lucky enough to travel to and see. I told her about Tel Aviv, how I’d
heard it was a riot and a great party, she told me, it’s like a bubble, all the
gays convene there and the parties are out of this world, then there’s Nazareth
and Jerusalem which are full of history, however rife with conflict and now too
dangerous to travel.
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| Prince Harry |
In all honesty I don’t know if I’m a sounding board for
awesome people or I’m just gullible. I hope it’s the former. I’m genuinely
interested in meeting people and hearing stories. I’m lucky to live in a free
society and I was reminded of this just a couple of days at the Anzac Day dawn
service. (Incidentally but not relevantly it was my two year living in London
anniversary). I will say that the London
Anzac experience is chilling, reflective and beautiful. It is well attended by
both Aussies and Kiwis (and Prince Harry!!) and it’s so nice to hear stories
from all the soldiers, English, Aussies and Kiwis. I would recommend an
overseas Anzac experience to everyone. Hopefully one day I’m lucky enough to go
to France or Turkey on Anzac day which I’m sure will even exceed this experience.
Enough of the war and depression. The next blog will be
about Malta and the awesome time I’ve had here hopefully. I just needed these
stories out, so they aren’t lost.
