SHOPPING

4 May 2011

‘What you doing today, Jen?’
‘Mmmmm. Too lumpy for painting bilges, too windy for painting decks, too dusty to do house work …sooo. What about a little trip to town?’
‘Can I come too?’
‘Only if you are good and don’t tap your feet while we are window shopping’
‘Promise’
So off we went.
The ‘capital’ of Gozo is called either Rabat or Victoria, and is about the size of a provincial English town. To get there we have to walk around the harbour and get the bus, the times of which are worked out from the ferry timetable as they meet and leave the ferry during the day and night – except during Easter nights as we found to our inconvenience. We can also look out the back of the boat and see where the approaching ferry is to give us a time to leave.


This is a good excuse to talk about Malta buses, which are a breed apart and wonderful to behold and experience. Sadly, they will soon be no more, as the buses have been given over to Arriva, and will be replaced with giant new buses like everywhere else in the world – devoid of character and hard to love. And the fares are going up steeply. At present you go anywhere for 47cents, except the extra long trip from Valletta to the northern ferry terminal when you pay 1.16 euro.
There is no doubt about these buses being of serious longevity – Dave has seen an odometer with over 500,000 kilometers on the clock and this was one of the ‘newer’ ones. They are at present owned and loved by the drivers, and all have their little shrines and holy cards up front, some quite elaborate. Some have biggish seats, most have seats that are a serious challenge to anyone over 4 ft high. To fit in most of them Dave squeezes in first and I follow side saddle with feet and knees in the aisle to be tripped over. Equipped with luggage holds at the rear, all baggage comes inside the bus as it seems these holds are never destined to receive any luggage at all. So in come prams and pushchairs, large suitcases and shopping trolleys, overloaded rucksacks and shopping bags ready to burst at the seams. And off you go.
Now the roads on Malta and Gozo are as ancient as the buses, fully furnished with potholes that are fit to challenge the suspension of any vehicle. These are not to be avoided but approached at full speed and crunched into as hard as possible so the absent springs and suspension can transmit the maximum thrust to the occupants. It is a marvelous workout for all one’s jiggly bits and for compacting down the last meal. The noise is at first alarming, especially going up hills, of which there are plenty. Everyone is made aware of gear changes, and the increase in decibels Is matched by the increase in the volume of the conversations, already loud and energetic, as the bus is a social occasion too. We have had a great time on these buses, love them to bits.
So what did we do in town? Posted a letter, bought Dave 2 t-shirts as he is sure I have thrown all his favourites out. I think it is down to his filing system for clothes which has a logic all of his own and not to be interfered with. But he looks very nice in his new ones. And then we spied the perfect thing for young Alex, great joy, and a perfect thing for Dexter and a perfect thing for another family member who will just have to wait to be surprised. Coffee followed after a cruise past the sandal selling shops but I was not allowed to buy the gold ones with the 10” heels and strappy bit. Shame really. Found a copy of the UK Guardian so we can do the crossword and see the cartoons and Dave can agonize over the Sudoku. And then the bessiest thing of all. At present we have matching military watches for the boat as these are indestructible, can have the battery replaced without opening the back and keep excellent time which we need for the astro navigation. But my beloved thought that I should have a ‘church watch’ for wearing to town. I had one, it is now Kate’s as she was in need, and that one had a purple strap. Now I have one with a pink strap, and if you press the winder it lights up. I love it to bits and as it was in the children’s section it was a bargain. Not to be worn while painting bilges.
Back on the bus and ambling back to the boat we were met by the lady with our washing. Now this is worth a mention. Usually I do the washing on board as the previous blogs have shown, but while my paws are firmly attached to the lump hammer it has been agreed that the laundry will go to the launderette. Ages ago we bagged it all up and put it on the suitcase wheels and lugged it into town on the bus, causing all kinds of traps for other passengers. We then had to go back the next day and reverse the manoeuvre. Dave was not impressed as this time we managed a bus crammed full of folk and the laundry was seriously in the way, especially as we were standing and had to let people out. But we had met the lady running the launderette, Bea, on our return and she was aghast as she said she would pick it up from the boat as she came down our way to take the son to school in the next village. So now we have a wonderful arrangement, ring Bea, throw the bags off the boat and into her car and the next day they turn up all washed, ironed, folded and smelling really good. I think I will kidnap her for the trip. Alas, this time I had not heard the phone to say she was on her way early and we nearly missed her. As this wash had a mega offering due to the delay over Easter we needed it, but all was not lost and she turned the car around and deposited us and the washing at the boat. And she is a delightful person too, especially after her gift of a special Easter cake thing she had made and decorated. Almost too pretty to eat, but not that pretty!
And all this before lunch!