Triton Fountain and The End Of An Era

Triton Fountain at Sunset

This is Triton Fountain – currently situated at the main bus terminus just outside the walls of Valletta. It is a sculpture in bronze by Maltese sculptor Vincent Apap. Erected in 1959, it soon became a much-loved landmark. Indeed its wide marble basin has always been a favourite meeting place with local teenagers. On warm summer evenings the sound of its splashing water has accompanied many a hasty teen-age kiss and its circular basin has provided the perfect platform for  many private dramas and outbursts of youthful angst.

Triton Fountain at Sunset

Originally, the bowl held up by the tritons was much larger and the central column (which you can just  make out in the photos) did not exist. However, after the surface of the bowl was controversially used as a performance stage in the late 1970s, the structure was damaged. For many years it was in disrepair but it still continued to be a popular meeting place. It was repaired  in the late 1980s (when the smaller bowl and central column were included) and the cheerful sound of its jets of water continued to delight new  generations.

Triton Fountain at Sunset

Triton Fountain is now back on everyone’s lips. The entrance to our capital city is being given a much needed face-lift. The plans were drawn by world-renowned architect Renzo Piano. Unfortunately, Piano’s plans include the removal of the fountain from its current location to another location 50 metres away where it will, most likely, no longer function as a fountain. This plan has not really gone done well with the general population since many feel that the fountain has earned its place at the entrance to Valletta not only because of its artistic value but because of the affectionate hold it has on the national psyche. Those, like me, who have gown up with this landmark, have met countless friends at its base and who have have sat on its warm stones on many lazy summer nights, are loathe to see it go. But the powers-that-be have spoken and Piano’s plans  have won over national nostalgia and Apap’s artistry.

Triton Fountain at Night

Ruby Tuesday: Another Post Box

Mail boxes are red here and the older ones bear the insignia of  the British monarch who was on the throne when the mail box was put up. You may read more about this in my post  Red and  Regal. This particular post box bears the insignia of King Edward VII. Edward VII was king between 1901 and 1910, which makes this post box over 100 years old.

I never thought post boxes could be fascinating but these older ones, bearing the royal cyphers, are very intriguing. I must admit that it has become a bit of an obsession to hunt out the very old post boxes and snap some shots. It is a great way of getting back in touch with our past. In reality a post box is just an everyday object which serves an important function but just stop and think of all the letters and messages that have been mailed inside this box. Letters of hope, of love, of encouragement. Letters from loved ones in foreign lands. Happy messages, sad messages. So many secrets in one little  post box.

Photographed in

Main Gate Street

Birgu

This is my entry for this week’s Ruby Tuesday. For more Ruby Tuesday posts visit Mary at Work Of The Poet.

Ruby Tuesday: Red Balconies in Birgu

After a long absence I am back participating in Ruby Tuesday. I hope that by now I have accumulated enough images with red in them to be able to link up to this fun meme on a weekly basis.

For this week’s entry I have chosen a photo of some red balconies in the medieval maritime city* of Birgu (aka Vittoriosa). Balconies, of course, are the quintessential adornments of most of the older houses in the Mediterranean and can be covered or uncovered and made of wood or stone. Covered wooden balconies, like the ones in the photo, are perfect for a spot of eavesdropping, if you are so inclined, and also provide an ideal perch above the street from where you can watch the daily neighborhood drama being enacted. I think that the current fad of painting local balconies in bold reds, greens and blues contrasts well with the honey-coloured limestone that makes up Maltese houses.

Photographed in

Main Gate Street

Birgu

Like any medieval town or village in Malta, Birgu is made up of narrow winding streets flanked on each side by buildings which are 2 to 3 storeys high. Being a harbor town, Birgu has a long history of maritime, mercantile and military activities. Following the heavy bombardment it sustained during WW2, Birgu experienced a sharp decline in its population (which was almost halved when compared to pre-war years). For a large number of years, many of the remaining buildings went in decline and the population continued to dwindle. In the past decade the government, together with a number of private entrepreneurs, started to invest in the area and many of the older buildings are being renovated and restored. A Yacht Marina was built and the buildings and palaces on the waterfront at St Lawrence Wharf have been leased to house restaurants and cafeterias.

I have already written about Birgu another time and you  may read the post here. New readers may also read more about the chequered history of this town at the official portal of the Birgu Local Council.

Major attractions in Birgu include Fort St Angelo, the Maritime Museum (housed in the former Royal Navy Bakery), the church of St Lawrence, the Inquisitor’s Palace, the Couvre Port and the extensive fortifications (to name just a few).

*Please note that the word city here in Malta is used very loosely and does not refer to modern metropolises such as London or New York. In fact, some of our ‘cities’ (like Mdina) are inhabited by not more than 500 people.

For more posts with pops of red, visit Mary at Work of the Poet.

Sandstorms – The Birth Pangs of Summer

This is what the weather looked like today.

The clouds are full of sand which travels across the Mediterranean all the way from the Sahara desert on the wings of strong winds. Known as the scirocco, this wind is usually warm and rather clammy as the hot desert air travels northward and picks up moisture from the sea. When it gets here, some rain falls. Big orange drops, which quickly dry up leaving spots over everything that is left outside.

Sandstorms,

thunderstorms,

dusty rain,

gale force winds,

overcast skies,

rough seas,

warm days,

cool nights -

all herald the birth of balmy summer days.

Her Majesty

Still proudly surveying her surroundings, this statue of Queen Victoria by Sicilian sculptor Giuseppe Valenti has kept the memory of Her Majesty very much alive in our capital city. Behind the  statue is the beautiful building housing the National Library.

The statue itself is in a square which is surrounded by a number of cafeterias and is a very popular place to stop for a coffee while on a shopping spree an errand in our capital city. I can only imagine the thousands of conversations that Her Majesty must have eavesdropped on  - from business transactions to the whispers of lovers – there is not much that goes on in this square that can escape her penetrating gaze.

The statue of Queen Victoria was erected in 1891 to mark the 50th anniversary of her reign and the first centenary of British colonial rule in Malta.

Queen Victoria Statue

Republic Square (formerly Queen’s Square)

Valletta

I’ll Meet You By The Wembley

If you live in Malta you will, at some point in your life, have met someone by the Wembley Store. This store has probably seen more meetings than any other place on the island. Its location on a corner between Republic and South streets in Valletta, and opposite the old opera house, seems to make it an ideal venue where to meet someone in the city. It’s not that Valletta lacks landmarks. I think it’s just that its location is ideal as it is just a few metres away from the entrance to the city.

The store itself was opened in 1924 by Emanuel Gauci. Its name was inspired by the British Empire Exhibition held at Wembley (London) that same year. During the second World War the bombs that destroyed the opera house also damaged the store but it still continued to serve customers and, once the war was over, it was renovated and enlarged. Recently the store has again been refurbished and the façade embellished to give the shop a turn-of-the-century feel. I think it looks great and that it will continue to be a meeting place for many years to come.

The Wembley Store

305 Republic Street

Valletta

A Girna And A Moment That Took My Breath Away

There is a saying which goes something like this:

Life is not counted by the number of breaths you take but by those moments that take your breath away.

I thought that there was not much left on this little island that could take my breath away. I felt I had seen all there was to see. But sometimes I come across something which, in its sheer simplicity, is so pretty that it literally does leave me breathless for a moment or two.

This humble girna did just that and so much more. I suppose it all had to do with the fact that it was so unexpected – the contrast of the hash stone and the hundreds of vibrant yellow flowers. It seemed like the perfect place to be alone and write or read a good book. Or to just close my eyes and let myself be deafened by the silence. While the structure itself does not look like much more than a hovel, yet the view and its surroundings are fit for a king or, in my case, for a queen. And I would not mind being a queen of all this for a day, or even for an hour …

Note

A girna is a small hut built of stones often found in fields or in the countryside. They were used by farmers to store their tools, as shelter for livestock or as a short term dwelling when work in the fields became particularly intensive. These small buildings come in a variety of shapes but the most common shape is circular or oval. The interior is always domed and the roofs are flat.

While these corbelled stone huts are quite a common sight all over the countryside this girna at Fawwara is one of the most picturesque that I have seen.

Marsaxlokk & A Tale Of An Ancient Harbour

In the southern part of our island there is a fishing village called Marsaxlokk. Its name is derived from the Arabic word for harbour (marsa) and the Maltese word for the south-east wind (xlokk). It is a picturesque little place – a village by the sea; the water of its bay dotted with boats. A sleepy little place, ideal for a family stroll. A harbour whose limpid waters have,since ancient times, provided sanctuary to countless ships and boats.

Around 3000 years ago the Phoenicians sailed into this harbour, bringing with them their cargo of precious purple dye and superstitions that have lived on to this day. Traditional Maltese boats are painted in vibrant colours and usually, on the bow, you will find the Eyes of Horus (or the Eyes of Osiris) for protection and good luck. It is a common tradition that these eyes have been painted on Maltese boats since that time.

The fact that these ancient mariners settled in the area can be confirmed by the temple they built to Astarte, their goddess of love, on the top of a hill overlooking this natural harbour.

 

Although Marsaxlokk is a typical Mediterranean village, where nothing much seems to happen except for the excitement of the daily catch, it has played its own role in the turbulent history of this island. In 1565 it witnessed an attack on the island by the Ottoman Turks, an attack which later turned into the Great Siege of 1565.

It was also the harbour used by Napoleon in 1798, when he took over the island from the Knights of St John and launched his attack on Egypt.

In 1989, Marsaxlokk was the venue for a summit held between George Bush and Mikhail Gorbachev onboard the Russian cruiser Maxim Gorky – a summit which effectively ended the cold war.

Yet I doubt whether most of us give a second thought to these events as we stroll along the sleepy promenade, watching the boats bobbing peacefully in the water. Because, on the land there is no reminder of the embattled past and, as the fishermen will tell you, the sea very rarely gives up its secrets.

Fields of Scarlet, Fields of Gold

There’s a certain magic afoot at this time of year – the magic of nature, the magic of spring.

It seems to happen overnight, what once 3was a field of green grass is now carpeted in vibrant hues of red and yellow – crimson and gold.

Because as April’s warm winds reach our shores, a period of rapid growth occurs. It seems as if Nature explodes and the countryside dons its party clothes before the climbing temperatures withers everything that isn’t watered.

I don’t know whether it’s by chance or by design, but very often, these fields of crimson and fields of gold are found almost adjacent to each other.

The flowers which cause this pretty spectacle are the clover and the crown daisy: red and yellow; crimson and gold.

 

Photographed on the hills of Dwejra

Fawwara – a Hidden Gem Beneath The Cliffs

Have you ever visited a place in your childhood that you never went to again but that lived on in your  memory as a place of spectacular beauty? Well, Fawwara was that place for me. Over the years I would hear  people talk about its uniqueness and its pretty views and I always longed to go back. But somehow, the time and opportunity never seemed to arise. But last Saturday we took the narrow, winding road to this little hamlet situated beneath Dingli cliffs.

The Chapel Of The Annunciation

So we followed the road that brought us first to the chapel of the Annunciation – above us the steep cliffs and below us the blue, blue sea. We headed on a bit more till the road just became a dirt path. At the end of the road was the chapel dedicated to Our Lady of Carmel (more about these two chapels in a future post). The view was magnificent: fields, the garigue, wild flowers, the sea and, in the distance, the little islet of Filfla.

And all around us, the sound of silence – broken only by the chirping and twittering of birds. In this place, time had stood still, nothing had changed and memories from my first visit so many years ago came flooding back. The view, the cliffs, the scattered farmhouses, the caves – the very same caves that had sheltered Bronze Age men and women – I could feel the place working its magic on me.

I had found a place which seemed untouched by the outside world and I felt that, like Rip van Winkle, I could stay there for an hour and a day only to return to the outside world and find out that 20 years had flown by while I was just gazing in rapture at nature’s wild beauty.

 

Note

I could not fund much historical information about Fawwara. The name Fawwara is derived from the Maltese word for a spring of natural water. The area of Fawwara known as Gebel Ciantar seems to have been settled since Bronze Age times when the inhabitants made use of the many caves that dot the cliffs as their dwellings. The cliffs themselves provided an impregnable fortress against any would-be marauders. In the 13th century it is said that the Arab overlord Ali Sid killed and tortured a number of young girls from Fawwara for refusing to convert to the Islamic faith. I could find no historical data to back this story. But then, what place would be complete without its legends?

The Chapel of Our Lady of Carmel