Round trip to Malta on the Malta Express

I had just returned to Naples after touring Sorrento and Capri (Gracie Fields was away) and was planning to catch the ferry to Sardinia to visit a friend in Caligiari, when a waiter asked me if I had been to Malta yet. When I told him no, he proceeded to tell me that he was from Malta and that he went there at least once a month to see her family.

It seemed like a good side trip, and since I wasn’t in a hurry, I took a bus from Naples up the coast to Salerno, where I booked a return ticket on the Grimaldi Ferries “Malta Express” which leaves Salerno every Thursday. You can make the return trip in three days, with one day in Valletta, the Maltese capital.

Leaving Salerno at noon on Thursday, it takes nineteen hours to reach Malta. The Malta Express is what is known as a Ro-Ro (Roll on – Roll off) and the vehicles are mostly truck trailers, although there was a big shiny black Mercedes that really looked out of place. It has passenger accommodations that are sober but adequate and reasonably comfortable. There is a TV in the lounge and of course some slot machines. There was a game of poker throughout the trip in one corner of the room. Apparently the Captain allows it as long as the crew doesn’t mess around and stays relatively quiet.

You have three meals a day served in a spotless dining room. The dining room staff is Filipino, the deck crew are mostly Italian and Maltese, and the officers are Bulgarian. I never recognized any of the crew so I don’t know who they were. By the way, the meals were quite good and served “family” style.

A horn blast signals our departure for Malta and as we get under way there is a nice cooling breeze on deck. The landscape is exceptional along the coast. It is just after dark that we pass Stromboli and then pass through the Strait of Messina and out to the open sea.

After a few hours of sound sleep (I always sleep like a log on boats and trains), we entered the port of Valetta. The first thing you notice when entering Valletta are the huge walls. The island of Malta was a veritable fortress in the Mediterranean Sea, and was repeatedly attacked by corsairs, knights both en route to and returning from the Crusades, and apparently any rabble that could sail a ship near the island. Some were successful, most were not, but the most successful were the Hospitallers of Saint John of Jerusalem. They came to stay in the 11th century, keeping the various enemies and corsairs at bay, finally gaining full control in the 15th century, by which time they were universally known as the Knights of Malta. They ruled the island until the late 18th century when the British made Malta a colony, and it remained so until they gained independence shortly after the Second World War.

Arriving in Malta on time, we have a full day to explore as we will. Customs is quick and courteous (they love the dollar there) and we disembark. I met a German guy on board and decided to share a taxi on the outskirts of Valletta, a short distance from a stone chapel that marks the spot where Saint Paul landed after being shipwrecked on his way to Rome. On the return trip, the taxi driver insists that we visit a church named after Santa Barbara. Inside are paintings by a Maltese known as the Knight of Calabria, because he was apparently as good with a sword as he was with a brush. Legend has it that on a journey between Rome and Malta, with a brief stopover in Naples, he dispatched more than a dozen who had managed to arouse his wrath. He died in his eighties from an infected nickname he got from his hairdresser.

Back in Valletta, there was plenty of time to spend in the market where there are open-air stalls selling everything you can imagine and some you might not. I’m a bad prospect when I travel, as I don’t want to lug around “stuff”, so I usually have a trail of merchants haranguing me as I walk through the alleys of a market. I make frequent stops to ask politely about prices, shake my head sadly, and continue on my way after adding another harangue begging me to buy his “stuff” at half the price he first quoted. I’ve been told this is not good behavior on my part, but I find it a cheap source of entertainment; I’ve also learned some excellent additions to my multilingual vocabulary of swear words and arcane curses.

Stopped in for a late lunch at a Trattoria Parolaccia (my notes say this could mean “the place of conversation” or “the place of words) which was very good. The chef himself came out and described the specialties. Great food, good wine and excellent service.

We walked through a park with formal gardens and monuments dedicated to the brave men and women who defended Malta in World War II. Among them was F/O Buzz Beurling, a Canadian fighter ace who shot down more than twenty planes while flying a Spitfire from a Maltese airbase.

We came back on board after a rather tiring day, we were served dinner and I went to my bunk. The sea rose a bit after midnight, but by daylight it had calmed down and we could see the Italian coast in the distance. I arrived in Salerno at 4:00 pm just in time. Although the entire trip had taken less than three days, it seemed like a much longer pleasant vacation. I must remember to thank that waiter from Naples.

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