A return to Qala

Yesterday I returned to Qala, the site of one of the funerals I attended and the hometown of "Philip the postie." I once again boarded the bus to Mgarr and was mortified when the bus turned out to be jam packed with people. I say mortified for two reasons. First, the smell of B.O. was almost overwhelming. And second, it was standing room only and this woman standing in the aisle next to my seat not only had a muffin top bulging out over her jeans BUT those jeans were slowly sagging and her butt crack was literrally in my face. How can you not know where your butt crack is and keep it covered??? Must be a problem with the low rise jeans in Malta - now sitting at the McDonald's the girl sitting across from me has the same problem. Gross.

My mental state was beyond recovery and I missed the stop at the top of the hill before descending into the harbor. No biggie. I'll start at the bottom. The walk up to Qala was not as steep as that dreaded hike up to Nadur but was a tad longer and by the time I reached the cemetery on the far side of the town it took me an hour and fifteen minutes.

The fabulous view of Comino and Malta was somewhat compromised by the clouds but still gorgeous nontheless. I found Philip's family tomb, recalling the story of how his father died when he was 15. I also made sure to stop off at the tomb of the man whose funeral I had attended all those weeks ago. All of the bouquets of flowers had since been cleared away and only 3 arrangements remained lined up in the center along with one of the prayer cards with his photo. I wondered how long it would take for the family to place the marble tomb over the top.

Walking through the cemetery it was the first time I saw one of the people there crying. She had to wipe her tears away several times while she stood at a tomb.

Though the church is on the edge of town it also lies in a different village area known as Honduq and the chapel of the cemetery is this particular villages church. Philip told me that there is a relic of a saint in the basement that is usually open for people to visit. As I approached the chapel a teenage girl came out with 2 children under the age of 7 who kept saying "spooky" and looked deliciously scared. The teenager looked at me like she was certainly having fun with them and I wondered if she'd taken them to the basement to tell them ghostly stories about the saint. The chapel was pretty dark inside so it wouldn't take much to conjure up some ghostly images, that's for sure.

Right about the time I decided to leave, I also realized I had to use the toilet. The walk back to the centre of Qala would take about 20 minutes and I was sure I could find a public toilet there. But there was this path beyond the cemetery that cars and ATV's had been whizzing down while I was there and I was curious where it led to. I really wanted to find a path that would take me around the island from Qala back to Mgarr instead of up and over. I decided I'd head down the hill and see what I could see. Of course, the problem became that the further down I got, the further I wanted to go. A police car whizzed past and I didn't see him return so i figured the road must go somewhere. I finally got to a place where I could look down and over to get my bearings and I realized that at the bottom there was a small beach and a marina. There was a family picnicing and that cop car was parked down there as well. I couldn't be sure if there was a path but I figured that since it was a beach there would for sure be a public toilet. Thank God I was right on that count.

After hitting the bathroom I took stock of where I was, checking out the closest view I've gotten of Comino yet. There was a foot path off to my right and I was itching to see where it led. According to my watch I had about an hour and 15 minutes left of daylight. I decided to head onto the path for a half hour and if it wasn't completely clear I could make it all the way back to Mgarr on the path then I would turn around and return to the road. After a quick txt to Jessica Voelz so at least someone knew I was hiking on a trail in the middle of nowhere by myself, I set off.

The view was spectacular despite the clouds, with the sun breaking through now and then to light onto Comino. I was so happy I decided to give it a shot and for the first 20 minutes it seemed that the trail I was on would certainly lead me around to the harbor. About halfway there I came to an intersection where the path continued off to the left and was met by a small asphalt road on the right that headed up to Qala. From as near as I could tell, it would go all the way up to the city and I would have to do the up and over path after all. I was determined to go around so I kept to the footpath, making sure to keep an eye out for where I was in case I needed to double back.

It's a good thing I pay attention. About another 5 minutes down the trail I realized there was no going forward. The path ended and the only way through would be to navigate the farmland. Considering the terraced farms in the area, I'd never be able to guarantee I'd pick a path that would lead me right and i was losing sunlight. I begrudgingly turned around and headed back toward the asphalt and then the hike up to Qala. The path was extremely steep and I got about halfway up before I was sweating buckets. This mixed nicely with the fact that the waning sun meant I had a nice chill on top of it. Fortunately the road it let out to was not far from the road I'd arrived on so I knew exactly where I was when I got to the top. But I was extremely bummed that my adventuresome spirit wasn't fully placated. ugh.

I took the road back down to the harbor, stopping at "Discount Supermarket" to get a "cold beverage" though once inside I didn't find any. I was also hassled by the girl at the counter to leave my bag (purse) at the front in a locker. Weird for Gozo but not too surprising given the proximity to the ferry. I ended up getting a drink at the shop at the ferry afterall and caught the bus from there back to Victoria.

When I got back, the Square was even further along with its decorations for the Christmas Bazaar they are putting on this week, adding carpeting around all of the temporary stores, and lighting to each. Some of the vendors were starting to put out their goods as well. I took a few photos but mostly I just wanted to get home and take a shower since not only did I reak but I was also chilled to the bone. Fun.

The bazaar started today and though it looks like great fun for the kids and families, I am SOOOO glad I'm going to be gone this week. They've got a guy singing Christmas carols with his guitar...he's quite good but there are only so many Christmas songs in his repertoire so I've already heard the soundtrack three times today. I'm glad I'll miss that. Oh another thing to report is that as I came up toward Independence Square yesterday I noticed these huge banners hanging in the Square similar to what they put out at Festa. The difference is that they are all church banners, with pictures of communion, bread, wine, praying hands, etc. I don't know if it's in preparation for Advent or if it's because of the Bazaar or what. But I'll find out!

I leave for Belgium tomorrow and so I think this will be my last post for awhile. I don't plan to bring my computer with me on the trip. I'll be in Belgium with Wim until the 29th and then in Copenhagen with Chris until 12/3. I will post more when I return and then after that - only one more week in Gozo and then I will be home. I can't believe how fast it's gone.

In the meantime, have a Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Ghjansiliem Cemetery

Today's cemetey trip was to Ghjansiliem (pronounced "Ahn-se-lee-um"). This was another location I could get to by bus! Yay! I got off in the middle of the town and asked a woman who got off at the same stop if she could direct me. There was another girl just ahead who heard me ask and she said she'd show me where it was. It turns out the girl is American born Maltese who just moved to Gozo about 5 months ago from New York. We spent the short trek to my turn off chatting about the differences between the U.S. and Gozo. She also said that in Manhatten there is a very large Maltese community - so much so that there were 4 other Maltese families on the block she grew up on!

We parted ways and I walked maybe 5 minutes down the road to the cemetery past a cow farm. The girl had warned me, in fact, that it would be quite a smelly walk. It was kind of refreshing, reminding me of all of the farms back home. It was the first time I entered a cemetery here that did NOT have a spectacular view. Inside, the caretaker noticed me eyeing up the chapel that was locked and offered to open it for me so I could take photos. His name is Loretu and he's worked in the cemetery part time for the last 25 years, also working part time at Gozo General Hospital. He was happy to show me around the cemetery, letting me take photos inside the caretakers "shack" and answering my questions. I asked him to point out the communal grave section and he made sure to distinguish between the spot were the bodies are buried and the spot where the bones are reburied later.

While we were talking I met another two women, Marija and Delena, who were there visiting the tomb of their parents and their brother. They too were happy to answer my questions and between the four of us we had a great conversation. I asked the women if they were married. Marija is not, but Delena is. I asked if she and her husband would be buried in her family tomb or in his and she said in his. Marija said she could do either if she wants but they will probably go with her husbands family tomb, which is also in the same cemetery. All three said they go to the cemetery daily during November. Loretu said they have mass there every day at noon, and that their cemetery is open every Sunday outside of November.

After the women left, Loretu led me to a tomb and said I should check it out because it would be of particular interest. He pointed to a tomb for a younger boy who was killed in a car accident in New York but his body was brought to Gozo for burial. I had noticed the tomb previously and had taken a picture of it already but made sure to take another one since Loretu said it was of interest.

As I left the cemetery, I asked a man who was cleaning a tomb if I could take his picture and he said no. Honestly, that's the first time that's happened and the rejection of it wasn't that big of a deal. So really, what was I so afraid of?

Despite the fact that it was a cloudy and overcast day today, I decided to risk the walk and headed to Mgarr to take the bus back rather than just catching it in Ghjansiliem. Something about the water always seems to beckon me. (Maybe it's my affinity for the 70's song, "Brandy"?) When I got there I headed to one of the snack carts for some crisps. The guy working the counter asked if I was American and said he was too. Like the girl from the bus he's also from New York. His family moved to Gozo when he was 9 years old. He was a nice kid, eager to talk since it was a slow day. He said his parents have a bar i Nadur but it's small and h doesn't want to work there. I asked him what he DOES want to do and he said "I don't really have goals." I couldn't help but laugh, and thankfully he did too. He continued, "I have to be honest. I don't. I just want t make money and spend it somewhere living my life." We talked about his love for travel, how he's been to Prague, Vienna, Italy and some other places even though he's only 22. He's trying to plan a trip to Thailand for a month if he can get off of work. He did confess that he MIGHT take a course at the University of Malta but he's not really too worried about it. And really, what does he have to worry about? In Gozo, it's perfectly acceptable and respectable for him to work at that shop and perhaps own his own later and stay working in the harbor until he retires. He doesn't really need anymore schooling for that. Though I wonder if he'll feel different about it when he's in his mid-thirties or 40's. The people I've talked to about it seem split down the middle. Some say that if they could go back again they'd do more schooling. Others say there's no reason for it. I suppose that's similar to my parents generation in the U.S. as well but it's still interesting to talk to someone so young who feels that way.

Only 2 more cemeteries to go before I head to Belgium. When I return I hope to hit 2 more on the first Sunday of December and then I'll have officially been to every cemetery on the island.

Added pics

I assume none of you re-read any of the posts so I thought I'd let you know that if you already read he post about Nadur/Zebbug I added some photos.

The Xaghra Cemetery

I admit it, I was wiped after running all over the place yesterday so today I decided to take the bus to Xaghra and check out their cemetery. The bus lets off near the Ggigantija temples and rather than making the mistake of wandering too far I asked directions from the first man who prairie dogged his head out of the first door I came across. His instructions were VERY good and very helpful. He didn't just say "take this road and go straight" but made sure to add, "you'll come to the square. You'll see a cross. You'll see a road to your left and your right. Take no notice of them. Just go straight." And he was exactly right, in the square in front of the church was a statue of a cross and when you looked directly at it you could see the three roads. I, of course, took no notice of the 2 on the sides and just kept going straight. He was also one of the first Gozitans to be honest about the length of the walk ahead. He said it was maybe 20 minutes from where I was standing. Most Gozitans totally underestimate. If they say 5 minutes it's more like 20. This guy was ON. I was grateful.

The road out of Xaghra had a really great outlook point just above the cemetery that gave a great view of Marsalforn and the Citadel. I stopped for a moment there but really wanted to get to the cemetery so I didn't linger too long. The cemetery in Xaghra was very narrow with a row on either side of the center aisle that fit only 3 tombs across. But it was deep and went further back than I first realized, ending not at the chapel but rather had a second section behind the chapel that doubled the space in it's entirety. The most amazing thing about this cemetery is that it is currently being expanded to house another 500+ tombs! There were workers crawling all over the place building out the tombs with limestone and so I was able to check out the depth of the tombs and take some photos as well. At one point one of the cranes swung around into the area that I was standing in and a woman and her grandchildren had to duck to get out of the way. We all laughed about it (including the work men) and I had to duck again on the return. I shouted across to the men, asking if I could take their picture and the guy in charge of the crane said "of course, of course, but make sure to get this guy - he's the boss." He was clearly joking as he then forced a young lad of about 20 to turn to face me and they posed for a photo together.

I have to say that so far I have been very pleased with my efforts to visit all of the cemeteries as each one has proved to reveal something different, new, or interesting. I couldn't believe I got to see a cemetery build out in progress and I found some articles when I got back that even showed the plan for the grounds. I also found an article that talked about a "new" cemetery in Nadur though I'm not sure where that might be as I thought I went to the only one in the town. I'll have to check into it.

From the cemetery I could see a back road that a bunch of students were taking to return home to Xaghra after school in Victoria. I decided to abandon the bus, which would've meant walking 20 minutes backward anyway) and see where the road would take me. The road went through the farm communities on the outskirts of Xaghra and connected with those of Victoria, taking me past the Gozo Sports Complex and the "Downtown Hotel." I've heard of the place, as many locals have assumed it was wear I was staying so it was good to finally get an idea of where it was. The street ran all the way to the Yamaha dealership and with a turn left it was only one more block to Repubblika near the post office. By the time I got back to my apartment the walk took about 30 minutes.

I decided to have a coffee on the upper roof deck today and took a photo of the top of St. George's since it's a view I don't really get from my own balcony.

They are in the process of setting up for a Christmas Bazaar in St. George's Square. It began a couple of days ago with the installation of a few red lantern/street lamps. Then the next day it was these really big star lights. Now today they started building these little houses that will have vendors and food in them. I guess the Bazaar starts Sunday and will run for a week. I'm glad I'll get to see it on Sunday before I head to Belgium Monday. Ahhhh! Only a couple more days!!!!

To Sannat and back again

November 18

I decided to knock the cemeteries in Sannat and Munxar off my list today. I walked the 45 minutes to Sannat. For those of you that are paying attention, it's the town the Ta Cenc cliffs are in. And double bonus for those of you who are REALLY paying attention - anyone notice that just about all of the towns here are about 45 minutes walk from each other? Yeah, I think that's on purpose.

In any case, as I walked to Sannat I thought of the Dr. Seuss book, "And to Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street." There's a line I like, "Marco keep your eyelids up and see what you can see." I decided to keep my eyelids up and stake out the horizon for the cemetery so that I wouldn't end up like I did in Zebbug walking in the wrong direction. Paying attention paid off as I saw it in the distance on the left, and of course I had never noticed it there before. It saved me a lot of time and energy to go there directly rather than to head to the town Centre and then figure out where I was heading.

The cemetery was larger than those in Zebbug and Nadur with the tombstones spaced out quite a bit. The first thing I noticed was that one of the tombs was open as if there was going to be a burial. I took some photos of it, and by the way, I'm totally over worrying about taking photos in the cemeteries now. As I made my way through I also couldn't help but notice that one of the tombs in a row was backwards, with the cross and words in the opposite direction of all of the others. A woman who had been praying in the cemetery was about to leave so I asked her if she happened to know why it was backwards. The grave said the person was from Munxar so I wondered if perhaps they were buried like that because they were from another town. She explained that it was actually one of the oldest tombs in the cemetery and that at the time, they had anticipated that the tombs of that row would face the other way. Nothing more than that. She said that Munxar doesn't actually have a cemetery and that both towns share the space there.

We talked briefly though I sensed she would've been open to more conversation but the woman with her seemed anxious to leave. She did tell me that, like many here, she spent 10 years in Australia from 1960 - 1970. She pointed out one of the graves to me, saying that it belonged to the family of the man who is currently the archpriest of Sannat. She said her own family is there as well and she tries to go as much as possible during November.

After speaking with her, I introduced myself to a man named Lawrence and asked him about the open tomb. He confirmed that there would be a funeral that very evening. He took me over to the tomb and pointed out that the wife had died in May of this year and that the husband just passed away as well. I said I was surprised they could open the tomb because it hadn't been two years yet. He said, "ah but here, we bury three deep!" He pointed inside the tomb and said there are 2 others below but because it's sealed off it is safe to bury one more. The problem would be if the third one on the top hadn't been inside for 2 years yet. Aaaaah.

He said that at the Sannat cemetery they have mass every day at noon for the month of November. He said he goes every day normally so in November it's just a matter of going at the cemetery rather than at the church. I asked if he goes on the first Sunday of the month when the cemetery is open and he said the Sannat cemetery is open every Sunday. I told him I must've been mistaken, as the woman in Zebbug said they are only open the first Sunday of the month and he said "Zebbug, Zebbug. We all have different customs."

He pointed to the plaque on the chapel and translated the inscription for me, showing me that the cemetery was built in 1936. He showed me the original boundaries of the cemetery and how small it used to be. The plaque went on to read that it had been expanded in the early 90's to its current size. He then said "here is something interesting for your studies. This row of 10 tombs used to be reserved for the babies." He explained that back 50 years ago the infant death rate was so high that they had the whole row reserved just for the infants. I asked if they had to be baptised to be buried there and he said yes. If they aren't baptised then they must be buried in the government cemetery.

He asked if he would see me at the funeral later and made sure to let me know where everyone gathers to walk up to the church. He said that the man who died was the father of a priest and so he imagined there would be a lot of people. He also said maybe I could take some pictures of the procession and I confessed that I had yet to do so. He left and I looked at my watch to discover it was already 3pm. I took about 5 minutes to think about what to do next. I could either spend some time in the cemetery and then arrive at the gathering place a little early but NOT be dressed appropriately OR I could haul ass to get back to Victoria and change. I knew that if I went back to Victoria I would run the risk of missing the procession...but if I was going to go to the burial in the cemetery I didn't want to be the only one not wearing black. Decisions, decisions.

I opted for the haul ass version of the plan, double timing my walk back to Victoria and making it in 25 minutes instead of 45. Of course, the result was that I arrived into my apartment unbelievably hot and sweaty as the afternoon sun seemed to be burning directly onto me as I made the attempt. I threw my hair up, jumped in the shower, raced to dry off and throw on black pants and a black shirt and then sped out of there. I got back to the church in Sannat at 4:10 and unfortunately, as I predicted, missed the procession.

The church was packed with each of it's 34 pews full. I didn't see Lawrence at all though I admittedly couldn't see all the way to the front of the church. When the mass ended I processed up with the mourners to touch the coffin and get a prayer card. Bertu, the undertaker, was at the front handing out cards and said hello to me as I passed him. I followed the procession to the cemetery to watch them place the coffin inside and again got to watch the caretakers seal the limestone and recover the tomb with the marble. I was really grateful that I had been in the cemetery earlier and had asked after the open tomb so that I could attend this funeral but I was also disappointed in my choice to change my clothes as I'm not sure it was really worth it to miss the gathering procession. Of course, it was a lesson learned and you never know when a social faux pas will be your downfall so I guess I can't beat myself up too badly.

On the way back I stopped at Kilena's store and found it totally decorated to brimming with Christmas trees and holiday decorations. Inside Kilena was noticeably absent but I met her son who normally works as a statue maker. She'd told me about him before, offering to take me to his shop to see his work. I introduced myself and he said she'd told him about me as well. He said he'd be happy to take me to his shop sometime and gave me his card with his information on it. He's also on Facebook! Ha. On the way home I stopped off at Anna's shop again to say hello though by the time I left at 7 pm my lower back was groaning at the realization that I'd been standing/walking/running since 1. I thought back to the days when I worked retail and stood for 8 hours at a crack and thought about what a whimp I'd turned into...but then I remembered I'm not 20 anymore either and decided it was totally okay for me to admit defeat and sit down for the rest of the evening.

Nadur and Zebbug cemeteries

The last two days have been very productive. Hopefully that will remain the case this week as I've become determined to get my cemetery tour done. Yesterday I took the bus to Mgarr harbor and from there walked the 45 minutes up to Nadur. I say "up" because to get to Nadur you start down at the harbor at 0 meters and you take this winding road up through the farm communities to the city which, according to my map, sits at approximately 160 meters. It's only about a mile on the map but it doesn't include all of the back and forth of the winding road and the fact that you're going up hill the entire time. I was honestly quite proud of myself for doing it, though most of the locals would say "oh, Mgarr to Nadur? That is not a bad walk, eh?" And now that I think about it, I really hope it was more than a mile because 45 minutes for a mile?

Once in Nadur I picked my way through the streets to the town centre and asked directions to the cemetery, though I've found it's easier if i pronounce it in Maltese, "Chimeteriu." The man I asked was standing near a bench of men who were all chatting the afternoon away. It turned out he was in charge of opening/closing the Maritime Museum just down the street. He said he opens from 10 - 3 every day and as it was 3 by then he said he'd go close up and show me where to head. He took the museum sign which had been wrapped with twine around one of the two cannons at the front entrance of Nadur's church and said, "follow me. I show you."

After being pointed the right direction I was able to walk this promenade on the cliff of Nadur looking back down at Mgarr Harbor, across to Ghjansiliem and out to Xewkija. It was, as usual, breathtaking. Just down the promenade I found the cemetery and I thought, man - if that was the view I had for eternity, I'd be alright with it! As soon as I entered the cemetery I was grateful I'd made the trek. I'd remembered Kilena talking about how Nadur has a different cemetery in that church lets those that are buried int he communal graves put up markers ont he walls despite not having the private tombs. The walls of the cemetery therefore look as if they are the walls of a crematorium though there are no actual bones or bodies buried within the walls because they remain in the communal tomb.

I decided to try accomplishing a seriation of the cemetery and took a random sample of 2 tombs/markers from each row within and getting a sample size of 70. I took photos of each of the tombs to accomplish this, as I don't have any "forms" with me to record my data. I figured this way I could refer to the photos and put everything directly into a spreadsheet back at home. I made sure to take a few angles of tombs where the names/dates were not easy to read. I was pleased with the result and while taking the photos I managed to capture an image of a man who was there to commemorate a tomb.

Realizing the sun would be setting in about 45 minutes I decided I'd better start walking. I don't mind walking in the dark in areas I'm familiar with but never having walked from Nadur I figured I'd better make the best of the light that was available. I had planned to walk back down to Mgarr to catch the bus back but once I was up there and I realized I was already in line with Ghjansiliem which I could see across from me, I figured I might as well keep walking and give it a shot. I didn't get very far before finding a bit of a tower that Frank (the taxi driver) told me used to be part of a radio station. It's a more modern structure with glass at the top almost like it's an airport tower. It and the grounds have since been converted into a botanical garden so before I walked back I meandered through the gardens a little bit. From this point of Nadur I was treated to a view of the other side of the island, looking down at Ramla and Marsalforn and then off across to Victoria. As I predicted, the walk from Nadur back down to Xewkija was about an hour and as I arrived up the back street I caught sight of the Xewkija and Rabat cemeteries in the sunset. I stopped there to take a few photos before continuing on the rest of the way, another 45 minutes back to Victoria.

When I got back I went straight for the confectionary story and bought - beer. It had been a really hot afternoon and I had worn jeans because it was cooler in the morning. As soon as I started walking up to Nadur I regretted the choice. A nice cold beer just sounded like heaven and I realized I hadn't had one since my friend Chris was visiting me a month ago. I spent the evening contentedly working on the cemetery seriation and resolve to do more today.

This morning I woke early to take one of the buses to San Lawrenz to check out their little cemetery there. The bus was filled with women from the nearby villages who'd come to Victoria bright and early for shopping. You could see their bags loaded with vegetables and canned goods. While we waited for the driver there were about 6 of them that talked to each other, though they weren't sitting next to each other in their seats. Like the men at the cafes who sit in a line and don't turn to look at each other, these women were the same, not really turning in their seats but still chatting it up. The bus finally took off and as we made our way from the us terminus to Independence Square the bus driver called out to my buddy Tony, the old man who hangs out there, and Tony returned the call by running to the bus and jumping inside! For the next 10 minutes the entire bus was treated to Tony's wild gestures and talking as he stood at the front of the bus talking with the driver.

When we got to Ta Pinu I realized I might be on the wrong bus. It turned out that rather than getting on the bus that goes to San Lawrenz, I mistakenly took the bus that goes to Ta Pinu (a very touristy spot with a gorgeous church and a mad hike up a huge hill to follow the 10 commandments) and through Ghasri to Zebbug and back to Victoria. D'oh. I haven't been to Zebbug yet though so I got off there, where of course Tony greeted me with a kiss on the cheek as I got off the bus. I walked about 10 minutes in the wrong direction before finding someone to ask about the cemetery. I had assumed that like Nadur it would be on the edge of town with a Cliff view. Unfortunately I was wrong and the cemetery was actually back the way the bus came into town but down a different fork int eh road. It wasn't far, maybe a 15 minute walk down from Zebbug. It still had a view back toward Marsalforn but not from the spectacular height of the cliffs above.

I was immediately grateful for the transportation mixup as the cemetery had something I have not seen in the others - the chapel in the center has the same red domed top as the churches in Gozo. There are also 2 private crypts inside that stand tall to either side of the chapel and are topped wiht the red domes. It's smaller than Nadur but just as interesting and so I roamed around taking photos and sort of taking it all in.

While I was there, a man and a woman came in separately to re-light some candles and say some prayers. The woman noticed me taking photos and asked if I was a tourist. She said it with a smile on her face so I knew she didn't mean anything bad even if I was. I told her I was a student and why I was there. She said I could take photos of her parents tomb and pointed them out to me. Once again I was grateful for the openness of the Gozitans. She told me the prayer she prays when she's at the cemetery (and she said, that most Gozitans pray) is "May they rest in peace. Amen." She says this 10 times and then says the Glory Be prayer. She said if she was with someone they would do it as a call and response (like I've seen) where the second person says the Amen. She said some people say a different prayer, like "Jesus, Mary and Joseph pray for them." She does not prefer this prayer as she doesn't feel it's a prayer for the dead.

I asked after the tomb. Her choice in color - she picked a marble gray because her mom didn't want black and it was too expensive. Her choice in statue - it's this gold version of the Madonna holding Jesus after the crucifixion and she said she has to spray paint it so it looks fresh every year. She was the one to make the choices and arrangements because she is the oldest of 2 sisters and 2 brothers and it's in her nature to take care of things. She goes to the cemetery everyday in November and whenever it is opened (the first Sunday of each month, Mother's Day and Father's Day). I noticed she was wearing black and she said it was because her mother died in March. She said "nowadays Gozitans wear black for maybe three months but my sisters and I have decided - 1 year."

She told me she is a retired nurse, having worked on the "male ward" for 15 years and then for 15 years in the "operating theatre" before retiring 6 years ago. We talked about the (lack of) choices she had back in the 70's, how she was the only person from Zebbug to go to secondary school at the time and so she walked to Victoria for it everyday. How she had to spend a week at a time in Malta when she was in nursing school because they didn't have the daily ferry like they do now...

She is single and said her life is filled with her siblings families and when she was younger, traveling. She's been to Austria, Germany, Israel, Jerusalem - she said it was her passion. She always wanted to go to Russi and the US as well but now that her mother has died she said she doesn't even feel like leaving the village half the time so she doesn't think she will fulfill that wish. Instead she spends her money helping her family - she pays for her sister to come to visit from Australia, helps with down payments for homes for her nieces and nephews...she said "I am generous. I will hunger and thirst so others can have things." She even leaned in to tell me some of her sisters marital problems...it just amazes me how open people are here.

I was so delighted to talk to her. She kept poking me as we talked and once asked me if I had the time for talking. (ha! I've got nothing but time!) She asked if she could give me a lift somewhere but I politely declined. She told me her name is Louisa and when I told her mine she almost shrieked with delight, grabbing my hand and patting it saying "like in the movie East of Eden! It was one of my favorites and one of the reasons I wanted to go to America!" I was so elated with our discussion that I decided to walk back to Victoria to replay it in my mind. It's only about 25 minutes walk back from Zebbug and I would say it was definitely a morning well spent.

Frustration.

I don't understand what's happening. I've been trying to paste the long blog I wrote into this stupid page for the last 20 minutes and nada. I don't want to retype it all and nothing I do seems to work. Grrr. Oddly, this problem seems to coincide with the Windows upload of the new Internet Explorer 8. When I right click to paste (even though I normally do a control + V) it doesn't even give me "paste" as an option - but conveniently it asks if I want to blog through Windows Live. NO I don't! I want to blog right here, right now! Argh.

Well suffice it to say that I have a nice post coming about going to Nadur and Zebbug. There will probably be pics as well. Stay tuned.

P.O., Notary and Library

I started my day with a trip to the Post Office to pick up two packages. The first was a package from the Rennpferds sending me some Vitamin C and a daily vitamin. Unfortunately the PO wouldn’t let me have it until it gets cleared by the local Dr. so I can’t pick it up until Monday. D’oh. The second package I wasn’t expecting and was totally excited to find it was from some of my friends from UWM! Thank you so much to Jim, Michele, Alexis and Marcus! It was great to get something from home – and yes, even the rock from Marcus was a welcome gift.

After the P.O. I went to the Malta Registry and Notary office. They keep records of all births, deaths, and marriages there just like any notary office I guess. I asked how far back their records go and the man working there said 1863. Before that the records would’ve been kept by the church. I asked how long he’d worked there and he said he thought it was 1993. The woman standing next to him at the counter confirmed it and when I asked how long she’d been there she said 1992. I said, “ah so you would remember when this guy showed up, huh?” They both laughed. I had told them I was a student and the man remarked that there had been some other American students in there last summer asking questions – I wondered if they were any of my friends or not. I asked them if I could come back if I had more questions and they said yes, of course. They were both very friendly which was the opposite of what I’d expected as it’s a “government institution” and I expected a hassle about my student visa (or lack of one.)

Next I went to the lending library to see what they had about Maltese Funerals. I walked down Repubblika and up the street by the buses and unfortunately saw Joe, the creepster from Marsalforn. He recognized me so I said hello. He said “you’re still here?” I said yes and kept walking. He said “wait wait where you going?” I turned and said I have to go, I’m on my way somewhere.” I turned back to the direction of the library and kept going. I was totally worried that he was going to follow me.

The lending library is on the same block as Tapie’s and directly across from St. Francis church. It’s small – only three rooms. The first room houses mostly children’s books and has two round tables for study space. The second has mostly non-fiction and the beginnings of a literature/fiction section. There are also a few computers in the second room with the same reminder I saw at the reference library about how you should limit time on them to an hour. There are also several large round tables in this room for studying as well. The room at the back houses fiction. I should also point out that they use no coding system for the books though I think some of the sections are organized alpha by author.

In speaking with the two librarians, it turns out that I met another person related to George the undertaker. The older woman (probably in her mid-40s) I was speaking with said “if you are studying funerals I should send you to my brothers. They make coffins.” I asked if she was related to George and she said yes – George and Mario. George and Mario are George the undertaker’s cousins and have the shop G&M just down the street from George. This means that Anna from Moments is her sister-in-law as well, as she is Anna’s husband’s sister! I asked if she has been in Gozo her whole life and she said yes and then I asked if she had a family here and she said no, she’s single – the only one of 7. I remembered Anna saying that there were 7 in Frankie’s family and that only one of the women was single. She seemed like a very friendly affable sort so I said “atta girl” and put my fist out to “pound” her in camaraderie. I did it before I even realized she might not know what I was doing. After only a moment of hesitation she pounded me back and I felt relieved! She asked me how I knew her brothers and so I told her how I’d been introduced to George through Fr. Debrincart last year.

In the meantime the other librarian found me a book to take a look at. “Folklore of an Island: Maltese Threshold Customs” by Tarcisio Zarb. The librarian said there wasn’t really anything on funerals in it other than a small section on the taboo of “black” but as she flipped the pages I saw a section on Death so I asked if I could take a look. I spent the better part of an hour there reading the text and taking notes. What I found in the text was disturbing at first as it really seemed to lend credence to the Cremona findings in 1923 which laid out a lot of old death practices from the late 1800’s that are really no longer practiced. I must’ve checked the publishing date twice. I kept thinking there was no way it could’ve been published in 1998 – my findings regarding people’s practices and sentiments of death were just not agreeing with this book. It wasn’t until I realized that Zorb did most of his work in the mid 70’s and that he was drawing on interviews with 70 year old people regarding much older practices that I breathed a sigh of relief. The book itself seems helpful though and so I’m going to have to try to locate a copy. I did take some pretty thorough notes but you just never know what you’re going to need. I also spent a minute touring the bibliography and writing down other works that might be of interest.

Not sure yet what’s on the horizon for the weekend. Or as my mom would’ve said, “what’s on the agenda.” In case y’all haven’t noticed, I make most of this up as I go along.

Cemeteries and Ted

11/12
There were far less people at both the Xewkija and Rabat cemeteries today, though the items of commemoration remain. Where there were roughly 30 or so people wandering the cemetery on All Souls Day, there were only 6 at any given time while I was there today. Some of the flowers were in need of being tossed, though many of them appeared to be fresh new offerings. Because there were fewer people I felt more comfortable taking photos and took a few at both. I noticed that at the Xewkija cemetery it looked as if one of the tombs had fresh bouquets on it as if there had been a recent funeral. Meaning, they were in silver bouquets with purple ties like the ones I’ve seen at the funerals I’ve been to. It also looked as if the mortar was freshly reapplied. I ran my hand along it to see if it was still wet though with the rain we’ve had the last couple of days it wouldn’t have told me much anyway. The caretaker and his daughter did end up entering the cemetery while I was there and checking on the same tomb though I couldn’t tell what they were looking for. I was bummed to think I’d missed a funeral this week but then again, that’s kind of par for the course. I made sure to take a picture of the tomb that belonged to the woman who I witnessed being buried there last week.

Over at the Rabat cemetery I noticed the same caretaker and his daughter as they walked to their “caretaker building” which was a small shelter off to the right of the cemetery next to an area with brooms and a garbage. I could see the daughter through the window of the building though the caretaker remained out of sight behind the wall. I moved through the cemetery taking photos of different forms of tomb and commemoration. I was on the second level and was about to go down to the third when who of all people but Paulu was coming toward me. We greeted each other and I shook his hand. He said “my sister here” and motioned for me to follow him. He asked me if I walked there by saying, “you walk?” and pumping his arms back and forth to gesture walking.” I said yes. He said “me, truck” and gestured driving. He seemed to be asking me if I wanted a ride so declined saying no, I have to stay, nodding with my head back toward the rest of the cemetery. I would’ve gladly taken the ride if I was ready to leave but I wasn’t quite done there yet. He showed me on the tomb of the family Zammit his mother, Rosa; his father, Toni; and his sister Vincenza. He read out the date of her death. “One thousand, nine hundred ninety eight.” His father died in 1981 and his mother in 1975. On the tomb was a pot of yellow flowers next to the tombstone marker behind Paulu’s parents. The one marking his parents and sister was flanked by two arrangements in the shape of hearts with white and purple flowers. On this marker in the fourth empty space someone had taped a funeral card for a person who Paulu read off as dying in “Two Thousand and Nine…March.” The tomb is also shared by an infant death which is marked with a small stone in the shape of a heart with an angel playing a flute and it says “Baby ______” on it, noting a date of 2000. Next to the heart there was a pot with some plastic blue flowers as well as a candle holder in the front with a blue candle. These were accompanied by three small white angel figurines, one larger white angel, and a reclining angel that was also a candle holder. At the very foot of the tomb were three fresh bouquets that had been laid out, one of them with a prayer card taped to the inside that belonged to yet another woman. Had I been with someone who spoke English, or I Maltese, I would’ve had several questions for Paulu about the tomb. He left me there, saying ciao and walking away.

After my encounter with Paulu I walked through the rest of the cemetery and took more photos. Before leaving I decided to approach the caretaker hut and ask them some questions. The girl was, unfortunately, eating an orange when I approached and I think I startled her. I said I was a student and asked if she minded if I asked her some questions. She said no problem. She wore a red, white and black Adidas jogging suit. She had her long black hair back in a ponytail. I asked her name and she said it was Josephine. I said it appeared as if most of the burials there were post 1980 though there were some from the 40s, 50s and 60s. I asked where everyone else was buried prior to that. She explained that it’s a government cemetery like the big one in Malta. The churches were running out of space and so the government opened the cemetery. They told the families that if they wanted to move their dead that after two years they could go into the tombs, clean them out, mark them and send them over to the government cemetery. She said her dad has worked there since 1993 and she just helps out when she can. Her real job is a caretaker at the private nursing home run by the nuns. I inquired if it was the one in Victoria that is building a new facility and she said “yes!” as if she was glad to know I knew what she was talking about. She said they hope to move in December but you just never know. I said it was nice that she can help her father and she said yes. I asked how much time they spend there and she said more now because it is November. They have 2 masses there a day in November – one at 11 and one at 4. The schedule for the month is posted on the door of the chapel. She said that they have to be there to open the chapel and set up/clean up for the masses. She said that it’s only part time work for her father and that he usually works in the quarry. I asked if he gets paid by the government or how it works since he works for the Xewkija cemetery as well. She said he gets paid by the government for the work he does at the cemetery for Rabat and he gets paid by the people of Xewkija for the work in Xewkija. I asked if anyone else in her family before her father did such work and she said “No. Only him. Only him.” I finally asked her if I could ask her some more questions another time if I came back and she said yes if she is there.

Back at the apartment when I got to my door I heard Ted Call out “hello” from upstairs and ask me if I wanted to see the upstairs apartment. I guess he was getting it ready for some visitors. It turns out that the Maltese couple that have rented it for the whole year have some friends coming for the weekend though they themselves have only been here about 6 times. Ted said he probably won’t rent the place out for a year at a time again but considering the economy and the recession of this year he figured it was better to rent it for the year than to have to worry about it. Ted was in the process of hanging some art while I was there – a simple white canvas with a sketch of some locales of Gozo done by a German artist who had stayed in the apartment for a couple of weeks at some point. He asked my opinion on where to hang it. He also showed me the view from the balcony and the bathroom which is a bit bigger than mine so it actually has a bidet in it. He then took me to the kitchen on the very top floor which has a WASHING MACHINE inside it. It was like looking at nirvana. The best part of the third floor is the rooftop patio which has an amazing view of the top of St. George’s, including the dome and a better view of the Citadel. I told Ted I liked the view a lot and he said that if I wanted to come up there to take a coffee or read a book or whatever when no one is in the apartment that he wouldn’t mind.

We talked about his upcoming trip to Scotland and his son that lives there as well as the son that lives here and how he just bought a house in the “medieval” part of town that used to be a watchtower. Ted said it should be ready in April and they will be posting pics of it on the Gozo Homes website as well. He talked about his philosophy for renting and that he likes to do the best he can but make it affordable. He said there are hundreds of places tourists can go in Gozo so he wants to keep the price point competitive. He says “why be so greedy?” He said this building used to only be 2 floors but they built up across the way about 20 years ago and then so did he. He doesn’t like the buildings across the way – they are ugly (which is kind of true) and they cut the view which I’d imagine would be phenomenal if they weren’t there. I said I can’t believe how fast things get built here sometimes – like Jubilee Foods. One moment I’m having a coffee in the square looking at an old run down hardware store and the next week – poof it’s a new store. He was nodding his head in agreement and added “and they are doing quite well I gather.” He said that it can be like that in Gozo if people have the means. With Café Jubilee, they have three locations in Malta and I guess might be expanding to a location in London in Picadilly Circus area. He said if you can manage it then you can get things done like that. I told him I liked it there but that the food wasn’t consistent. He said it’s because there are 4 chefs. I told him I really liked Maji and he said he’d have to check it out though he said they don’t go out much. He said they have their own kitchen so they don’t go for food. I said “maybe coffee or a snack?” and he said not even that really. He then told me about how his father owned a bar when he was growing up in the 50’s. He said at the time there were only about 10 TVs on the island and of course his father had one for the bar which was right next door to where they lived. He said he and his sister were about 5 and 6 years old and had to go to the bar to watch cartoons and they would get in fights with the rough guys that came in there because they wanted to watch boxing or some sport. He said he hated that bar and his dad had it until he was about 13 or 14. He said since then he tries to never go into bars. He just can’t stand them. Anywhere. He said “you’ll never see me even having a coffee” – which is true. In the 2 months I’ve been here I haven’t seen him sitting in any of the bars or cafes. He said sometimes when he is with his grandson he is tempted to stop in IS to get him a Kinnie but he’s never done it yet.

Okay so this is the part that Wim will die when he reads. He asked me about my trip to Belgium and if I’ve ever been. He then told me that if Wim is interested in doing an apartment exchange, he would be interested! He said Wim could come and stay in one of his places for a week for free if he’ll put him up in his place. At first I thought – maybe Wim would be interested…until I heard the kicker of it. The condition is that they need to be there when Ted goes. Like Wim would want to play host to Ted and his wife! Haha! Though he and his wife have traveled extensively in Europe in hotels going 6 times to France, Budapest, 9 times to Scotland, Germany…but if he’s going to be in an apartment he said it needs to be some place where the host is going to be as well. I asked what that was about and he kind of laughed and just said “Gozitan nature I guess. We’re a lot more private here a lot more…” and I said “insular?” and he said “yes.” I said, what if the person was going to be there for the first day you were there to show you the ropes and THEN left and he said “well…maybe 2 days.” He said something about how he’d trust Wim even though he’s only met him for a few minutes. God if it weren’t for the fact that you’d have to play host to Ted and his wife I’d cash in on that deal myself for a free week in Gozo! But that’s a steep price to pay!

We ended by talking about tomorrow because he is supposed to come to clean. I will be getting up early to spend time at the library and pick up my stuff from the PO anyway. He also reminded me that there is a heater in the closet, though I think it’s really more of a halogen lamp than anything. I’m sitting about 5 feet from it and don’t feel a thing.

Matches

11/11
I decided to revisit some old materials from the ethno methods class I took since I have them with me and since I’m feeling a bit frustrated and stymied in my work here. I got through an article by Boas, Clifford, and was knee deep in Kaminsky’s analysis of Meyerhoff’s “third voice” when I heard Ted’s voice on the stairs in the apartment. He was showing someone who was speaking English with an accent though I couldn’t place where it was from. He said “and this is where your friend would be staying” as he passed my apartment on the landing. I braced myself as I knew it was only a matter of time before he knocked on my door. He continued upstairs to show the apartment and then sure enough after about 10 minutes he came down to knock on the door. He asked after some matches and I thought he’d introduce me to the new tenant but he did not. A short while later he knocked again to return the matches and said I might need them tonight if the power goes out. It’s been rainy, cold and storming off and on all week so I gratefully took the matches back at his suggestion.

It occurred to me that I didn’t have any candles to go with those matches. Oddly I had thought about purchasing candles when I was at Arkadia the other day but decided against it as a waste of money for the remaining time I have left here. Once I realized that I’d be SOL if the power went out and that it gets dark at 5pm now I figured it was more a matter of safety and preserving my own sanity than anything else. I also took about 2 seconds to congratulate myself on going with the 6 hour computer battery instead of the four and for keeping it plugged in/charged when I’m at the apartment. If I lost power at 7 at night at least my computer would be a source of entertainment and light for a good six hours.

Speaking of "matches" I think I got hit on by Paulu….but not in a gross way. I passed him at Gangus as I was walking for candles so I stopped to say hello but since there’s not much else to say when the person you’re talking to doesn’t share your language I moved to keep going. He asked how much longer I’ll be here – I think – and so I told him 3 more weeks. He said, “drink”? And motioned with his hand like he was drinking something. I said “no…I have to go.” He said “boyfriend?” and I said yes. (I didn’t know what else to say.) He said “ah! And bit on his finger like the news of it was hurting him. I feel terrible. He’s a big softie and if he spoke English I’d be glad to have a pint with him but I’m not going to sit there awkwardly in silence while we drink together.

I ventured to the stores down on Palm to try to find a cheap candle and found a 2€ store. Kind of like our “Dollar Stores” except…everything here is 2€. I found some candles that were TWO for 2€ which was perfect for a girl on a budget who will only be in town a couple more weeks. I decided to head up the street “Moments” was on and pay my now weekly visit to Anna. We spent a good deal of time talking about Gozitan weddings again and she said she will try to bring in photos from her daughter’s wedding so she can explain things in more detail.

After talking to Anna I took the long way around to come back and decided to stop at the confectionary across from Maji’s to see if they were still open. I was in luck and after purchasing 2 chocolate cannolis (sp?) for .60€ I asked how long they are open. The man said they usually remain open until 9pm. It’s the second time I’ve been there and the man is very friendly. He and a woman run the shop and sometimes it’s so busy that they have two cash registers going. They sell mostly homemade pastries but also have snacks, chocolates, candies, beverages and beer. Good to know because they are cheap and sometimes I want something quick and don’t want to walk all the way to the Duke for it which is the only other place I know that is open past 7 p.m. The other night I realized I didn’t have any soda and paid twice as much for it over at It-Tokk. I didn’t really mind the cost because it’s still nice to patronize a local business but still…if I can save some cents here and there it helps. Like I bought water from the place across from Gangu’s that has the olive bar…I think it’s called It-Tokk produce. You can tell that the place is frequented by tourists who will pay anything for it…I think he charged me 1.50€. But if I buy from Joe’s Liquer shop which is more of a local place it costs only .47€ for the same size bottle! Now Joe – that’s the super sized cheap stuff I’m talking about! You're practically American!

A lame catch up post

11/9 and 11/10
Monday I planned to go to the Cathedral library but by the time I got there it was closed. Headed back to the Duke…it was a rainy gross day and there was actually a large hail storm. I bought some postcards and wrote those out while it hailed. Not much else to report since it stormed all day and no one was out and about, including myself.

Tuesday I woke up sick. Not surprising I guess, given I was walking around in the rain on Monday and had three nights in a row that I couldn’t fall asleep until 4:30 a.m. I think I was just worn out. My throat was red and my tonsils were swollen. I debated going to the doctor but decided it was probably the kind of sore throat where there is nothing they can do about it so I took some ibuprofen and sucked a cough drop…it seemed a bit better but I wasn’t really feeling up to much. I also felt like I was invaded with a chill that I couldn’t get rid of. It was even cold in the apartment and I found myself trying to check out the fireplace to decide if it was for more than just looks. Nope. It’s not. I walked to Arcadia more to warm up than anything but also looking to buy a pair of jeans. I was unsuccessful. I connected at Mc Café to send off something to my sister and do some online banking. Riveting stuff, right?

This reminds me, I can’t recall if I posted this before regarding the prices at McD’s. I bought a “regular” sized soda while I connected. The “regular” is apparently only 12 ounces. And the cost - €1.80. That’s $2.70 USD my friends! I can get a litre of cola for €1.50. What a rip off. I also purchased a shake from there recently as well. I was craving a shake and have yet to find a local place that makes them like at home – they are mostly slushy and icy here. I figured it’d be the same as at home at good ol’ McD’s. The “regular” size was smaller than the soda…coming in at probably 8 ounces and was the same price - €1.80! Yeah…I’m not getting that again. And yes – this is proof positive that I’m a typical American I guess, wanting jumbo sizes at cheap prices.

Two Months

11/8
Today officially completes the 2nd month I’ve been in Malta. It also means I now only have 2 weeks left until I head to Belgium! I’ve decided to mark the occasion by posting some random things that I’d hate to forget to tell you in the funeral frenzy I’ve had of late.

· I’ve discovered one “plus” about doing all of my laundry by hand – I haven’t lost one sock in the two months I’ve been here. Not one. I think this fact points a nasty finger in the direction of those fancy washers and dryers if I may say so.

· Another laundry related item – I feel I have to endorse “All: Small and Mighty” – it’s done a great job for me on this trip. I chose it because I wasn’t certain what the laundry sitch would be and I knew I might have to do it by hand. Small & Mighty is technically for the machine but it’s got a note on it that says it’s safe for hand washing. Considering the sensitive skin issues I have, I was concerned about this. But it’s recommended by dermatologists for sensitive skin, and is concentrated for 3x the strength in a little bottle. It’s served me well and I think the whole bottle might see me through to the end of the trip YET still get my clothes nice and clean. I’m considering sending my laundry pictures to All just like one of those cheesy commercials where some lady writes in about leaving her lipstick tube in her pocket. Kidding. Sort of.

· The thing I feared would happen finally came to pass – I fell down the stairs at the Duke. The entrance is actually about eight steps below the main level/ground and they are these marble steps that get slippery anytime it rains. Well today, it rained. I took two steps down and then bam! Slid the rest of the way. I was carrying my computer in my backpack but thankfully it was the kind of fall where your heel goes out from under you and you sort of end up on your bum without much damage. Well – excepting for the bum that is. Thankfully the computer is fine. Also, thankfully, my ego is intact. It just so happens that though the entire front of the mall entrance to the café is clear glass yet I took my spill right behind one of the support columns so no one saw me. Nice!

· Remember when I posted about those two guys that work at the café across the square and how they sort of “owned the place”? Well, here’s an endorsement for longer fieldwork periods. It turns out that I was wrong about one of the dudes. The one that wore the “God is a DJ” t-shirt hasn’t worked there once since those first two weeks. He’s been around the square, that’s for certain – hanging out at Grapes with his friends just about every day around 5pm…watching football games at the place across the way…but he never works there. If I had to post a retraction, my guess would be that he was covering for the other dude while he was on vacation. Just thought I should clarify. Although then again – it’s not like you’d ever know the difference. But still.

· I went to the movies tonight and saw The Proposal. I am happy to report that the Maltese audience loved it. Though it was interesting for me to watch this scene where Ryan Reynolds talks to his Dad about how he doesn’t want to take over the family business while sitting among people who would really be agreeing with the Dad’s character more than Ryan Reynolds. That’s kind of the way it works here in Gozo…your family has a business and you take it over. Your dad was a carpenter, you’re a carpenter. Your mom owned a gift shop, you own a gift shop. Of course, there are more choices today but the principle still remains. Like when I was talking to Tony about whether his children would take over his gift shop and he said he feared they wanted him to open a restaurant for them instead. Same idea, different business. In fact, when I was talking with one of the funeral directors he asked me what my passion was and what kind of business I wanted to own. I told him I wanted to work in a museum and he said something to the effect of, “yes, I understand but where is your heart? Your courage?” He then talked about how he “works” at the hospital but his heart is in his funeral business and how he built it from the small business his father started to what it is today. He asked me, “Don’t you want to have something of your own?”

· So you know how Wisconsin bars and restaurants have adapted for cold weather by adding those sort of plastic entry ways to their front doors? They keep the cold out of the entire place by letting you close the door behind you before you actually enter the main door of the restaurant? Well Grapes Wine Bar has done something similar that I have yet to see at another café so I thought I’d share. The outdoor portions of cafes are open all year long as most places don’t have the seating capacity indoors and the weather is usually nice enough for it. But on days like yesterday and today when it’s windy, it can threaten business. So they’ve also employed plastic. But instead it’s these huge plastic sheets that go about 4 ft high and they stretch them from one sign post to another and essentially wrap them around the café creating their own wall to keep the wind out. It must work – they seem to draw more people on windy days than a lot of other spots.

· I’ve switched from watching TV shows while I eat dinner to playing Mahjong. My sister goes in spurts of being addicted to it and is quite good so I thought I’d give it a shot. Lori, you’ll be happy to know that you will remain Mahjong champion for quite some time. I’m sitting at a 30% “win” rate on the basic turtle board – it’s quite pathetic.

· I know most of my friends from my trip to Gozo last year probably don’t read this but I still need to report that Ben & Jerry’s is no longer in Gozo. It has been replaced by a place called “riri’s.” It still serves Ben & Jerry’s but only in those little pre-made quarts and not in the scoops. The scoops are straight up gelato. Bummer! I know Rhys would be so disappointed.

· I ran into Ted again at the Duke Saturday. He told me he’s not coming to change my linens until next Friday even though it’s already been 2 weeks since the last time. He’s apparently heading to Scotland for three weeks to visit his son so he wanted to do it right before he left. He returns from Scotland the same day I return from Copenhagen…I hope we don’t end up on the same Air Malta flight.

· I haven’t had as many weird dreams lately though it’s still been very tough for me to get to sleep at night. Friday nightI laid there until about 4:30 just staring at the ceiling. I’ve never had a problem like this before and I hope it goes away when I return home.

Speaking of…it’s technically bedtime so I’m going to give it a shot.

The funeral in Xewkija

Yesterday I was supposed to spend the afternoon with Philip as he was going to take me around the island to some of the cemeteries that no longer have bus service. Unfortunately I had to cancel on him, but it was for a good reason – I went to a funeral instead.

Oddly, I found out about this funeral through the obituaries on www.timesofmalta.com . Obits are posted there but they are seldom for Gozo as it seems the readership of the paper is more Maltese with most Gozitans reading the Independent. It’s a decent paper though so I get the daily update for the Times sent to me via email. In any event, I thankfully checked the update on Friday and saw that there would be a funeral in Xewkija (pronounced “Shew-kee-ya”) on Saturday. I called and canceled on Philip who was understanding and said we could do it another day, reminding me that the entire month is for the dead. Thanks for the reminder Philip.

The buses to Xewkija do not run between noon and 5pm during the month of November. There is a bus to another village that drives past the Xewkija stop but the timing wasn’t right to take that one. So I walked the 45 minutes to the village though I admittedly overshot my destination because there was no “Xewkija Centre” sign to point the way inward. I made it there exactly on time, however, arriving with enough time to take in the magnitude of the village’s new rotunda. Completed in 1971 it took twenty years to build using mostly donations from locals and labor on the backs of the parishioners themselves. I took a quick walk around the church and as I came to the front again the priests were leaving to meet the coffin for the processional.

The woman who died was 85 and so I was half expecting the kind of turn out that had been at the first funeral – roughly 25 – 50. As I approached the procession meeting point I was immediately proven wrong as there were at least 50 people already waiting there. Thankfully there would be no worries on seating at San Gwann Battista church (St. John the Baptist) because the new rotunda can actually seat 4000 if necessary – that’s three times the size of the entire village. The church was set for a regular mass with 6 rows of pews that were quickly filled and I counted roughly 150 attendees.

The inside of the church was so breathtaking that it was hard to pay attention to the service. The white limestone shone in the sun that poured in from the rotunda windows. The dome is 256 feet and is apparently higher than the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. The round walls of the church host six larger than life paintings of St. John the Baptist, though the center painting behind the altar is reserved for the crucifixion of Jesus.

The mass was presided over by nine priests. According to Philip when we spoke at the last funeral, they may not all be from the same parish as priests from other communities will ask to be present if the deceased was someone they knew as well. One thing I noticed that was different about this particular mass was that the Lord’s Prayer was sung. It called to mind my own days at church on the occasions when the Lord’s Prayer would be sung to the warbles of the parishioners who would creak and croak the awkward tune. Unlike the Ave Maria that sounds so beautiful in song, singing the Lord’s Prayer just never did it for me.

After the mass I processed with everyone over to the cemetery. As we walked, many of the attendants peeled off, heading for their cars or to walk home. By the time we reached the cemetery there were maybe 40 of us to watch the coffin be placed in the tomb. The walls of the Xewkija Cemetery, like many of the churches in Gozo, are lined with a single row of white lights that were lit for the burial. The chapel too had a row of lights across the top and the doorway framed the figure of the priest while he gave a final blessing with water before the coffin was opened.

The coffin lowering proved difficult as the tomb was butted up against the cemetery wall on the lower level. The pall bearers had a heck of a time getting it into position and it actually got stuck on something. Thankfully the caretaker was on hand to assist and he came running over the tops of the tombs to help maneuver the coffin into place. Also, unlike the last burial which was in a brand new tomb that did not yet have a tombstone, this burial was underneath a pre-existing tombstone. This meant we all stood and watched as the caretaker not only put the limestone bricks in place like last time, but also spread the mortar in between and set the bricks entirely. Then, he and the pall bearers lifted the tombstone covering, sliding it carefully into place on top and the caretaker finished the act by sealing the sides to the ground. In the end, the time spent at the cemetery was exactly the same as the time spent in the church. Only about 25 people remained until the very end.

It was about 5:30 and the sky was not yet entirely dark with the clouds creating yet another breath taking sunset. The bright lights from the chapel mixed with the soft glow of the candles lit all over the tombs. Together they cast a calmingly serene light on the flowers that covered the tombs and I took a pause before leaving to take it all in. Looking just over the tomb and the cemetery wall you could see the lights of St. George’s and the Citadel off in the distance. It had been a windy day and as the sun departed the wind turned cold as it whipped around the cemetery. If sunsets weren’t fleeting I could’ve stayed there for an age watching it. It was the cold wind that finally shooed me away as if it were saying, “Go. It is time for the dead to rest in peace.”

The funeral in Qala

11/5
Today I went to the funeral of a 53 year old man who died of a cholesterol blockage last week on the Ferry to Gozo. He left behind a wife and two children, a son and daughter. He was very active politically and was a former member of the labor party. He was also an active member of the Qala community, organizing every football related event in the town. Needless to say as he was well known, respected in the community and having died unexpectedly at such a young age, there was quite a turnout.

Here’s what I mean by “quite.” When I arrived at the square in Qala where the mourners were gathering it was about 3:15 and there were already about 20 people there. Over the course of the next half hour they came streaming in. Soon there were 50 people and I watched as the florist worked hurriedly to distribute the long stemmed bouquets from the back of his flatbed truck, looking for people among the crowd. The next count was 80 just on my side of the street and another 40 on the other side. I stopped counting at 150. The procession was a bit different from the last – only 3 priests instead of 13, and more young acolytes than before. It was a sight to be sure watching all 150 people process behind the coffin as it went first up the street and then down toward the church.

As we rounded the bend in the road to Pjazza San Giuzeppi I was moved to see that there were another 100 people standing on the steps of the church waiting for the procession to arrive. It seemed as if the entire town of Qala had turned up for the funeral. My proximity to the back of the procession meant that there was no way I was getting into the church. The place was standing room only, to the point that each of the three entryways were packed with people and over 30 individuals like myself had to hang around the front of the church with nowhere to go. I was a bit bummed but I was afforded a decent opportunity to observe the goings on of the people outside, which included the hearse driver and a number of other interesting characters. (For all of you camp friends – I swear I saw the Maltese Keith Bry there.) The mass went for well over an hour and then some people spoke as well. His daughter, son, a cousin and the Mayor of Qala all spoke and were received by rounds of applause.

People began to exit the church and as I was debating sneaking inside I was approached by Philip, my friend from Malta Post who is taking me on a cemetery tour on Saturday. He said he knew the man because he’d worked with him at the G.F.A. (Gozo Football Association) before working for Malta Post. He offered to give me a ride back to Victoria so I could go to the cemetery with the mourners rather than catching the last bus back. I was grateful as I hadn’t gone to the cemetery after the last funeral so I was eager to observe that portion of the service. We watched as the pall bearers brought out the coffin to a large round of applause. Philip said they clap out of respect. It reminded me of Festa when the men bring out the statue of the saint to rounds of applause.

The entire crowd of people from the funeral followed the hearse and coffin on the 10 minute walk to the cemetery. By the time we got there it was completely dark. I’m looking forward to going back there during daylight because there’s a great view of Comino from that part of the island. Philip was anxious to help me get a better look at everything so he was happy to sort of push us to the front of the mass of people so I could see. I guess he felt like he could because the priest is his cousin. One interesting thing is that because the coffin is closed from the time it leaves the hospital they open it just before they put it in the tomb. The coffins aren’t built with hinges here and so this meant the pall bearers had to unscrew the lid and remove it entirely. There were so many people pushing to see that the only thing I managed to catch a glimpse of was them screwing the lid back on.

They then moved to the open tomb to lower the coffin in which was about 8 feet deep with limestone walls. One of the caretakers was already inside the tomb waiting for the coffin and another helped the pallbearers to lower it. Once the coffin was inside people started throwing their flowers (sometimes full bouquets) into the tomb. Because there were so many people this meant some folks were launching their bouquets overhead from the back until the caretaker had to tell them to only throw single flowers and not the whole bouquet. The entire mass of people watched as they then used the pre-cut limestone blocks to cover the tomb, sliding each piece in place until there were only three pieces left. The caretaker then had to get out so he could seal the tomb with the last three limestone blocks. At that point a priest said some final prayers and the remaining flowers were piled up on the tomb. The family took their flowers to keep and then left with the rest following.

There were 2 buses waiting outside the chapel offering people rides back to Pjazza San Giuzeppi. Phillip said the bus drivers are men from the community and they offer up their buses free of charge for funerals. The walk wasn’t that long but many people took the bus which was admittedly a welcome relief after standing for so long. Once back in Qala, Philip was kind enough to drive me home to Victoria which was nice because the last bus had long since gone and it would’ve been about an hour and a half to 2 hours to walk. I didn’t get back until 7 p.m. I woke this morning to the sound of funeral bells...dare I say I'm on a roll?

The good, the bad, and the ugly of Marsalforn

11/5
I spent yesterday in Marsalforn. I was planning on visiting their cemetery but it turns out that like Kercem, they don’t have one. (That's the "bad".) Instead I talked with a man named Tony (this is the "good".) who owns one of the seaside shops (Wim – it’s the spot we got our postcards from when we were there.) Tony, like many others from his generation, migrated to NY in the late 60’s and lived there for 10 years. It was really amazing to hear his stories of living in Manhattan (near Harlem) during the 70’s. His sister was already living there when he and his 2 brothers went over together. They all stayed together for a month in the same apartment before they could get their own places. He worked in maintenance mostly, either in the apartments he lived in or for other buildings like the Rockefeller Center. At one point he was a lift operator for a hotel, working nights which he described as lonely and scary. He said the best thing about being there was getting so much exposure to the different kinds of people. He worked with people from all over the world, other immigrants from Yugoslavia, Puerto Rico, Spain, Italy, Germany, Ireland. He loved it and loved creating his life there. He is the first person I talked to that actually denied his own language in favor of English. He said that while he was there he wanted to speak English and pass as a New Yorker. His boss finally approached him once and said something about how everyone that works for him, they all speak in their own tongues – don’t the Maltese have a language? Tony lied and said no but his boss didn’t believe him and said he’d figure it out.

While he was in NY he joined a Maltese men’s club so he could meet other Maltese people and became friends with two other Gozitans, one from Nadur and one from Qala. He said the one from Nadur used to drive cars in NY and now he is chauffeur for the prime minister of Malta. He laughed about all of the trouble they used to get into when they hung out together. His sister and brother are still there. I don’t know what his sister does but I guess his brother works for the Playboy Club – I think as a chef. He remembered fondly celebrating the bicentennial in ’76 and the subject came up when this large cruise ship went by in Marslaforn and I commented on what an amazing view he has at his shop and how he’d never see anything like that back in the States, more referring to the landscape. He said “well actually…” and told a story about how his brother told him they needed to go to the harbor for the bicentennial because there would be all of these ships there and their cousin was supposed to be arriving on one of them. He said it was crazy with people, thousands all over celebrating and greeting family and friends. They got to his cousins ship and he found a porter and asked if they’d seen his cousin. The guy said “have you seen the size of this ship and all of these people? I don’t even know where my coworkers are right now.”

He came back in 1978 because the economy in Malta was supposed to be so much better. He met his wife when his cousin met him at the movies with five other girls. The cousin would point to a girl behind her back and he would shake his head no. And then he saw the woman he would eventually married and he pointed at her and said “Her! That one!” After they got married he wanted to go back to NY because he didn’t think he’d be able to do anything in Malta but his father-in-law didn’t want them to leave. He bought him the shop there by the sea and he said that first year they were making 800 – 100 Euro a day. He thought, “Why would I leave?” He’s been married and in that shop now for 30 years and he hasn’t been back to the U.S. since. He has three children and hopes one of them will take over the shop but right now they are more interested in their own pursuits. One is an architect, one works for clubs, and another is an education facilitator. He said he worries because they are more interested in opening a restaurant and Marsalforn is littered with restaurants – most of which have to close during the winter.

He asked me if I was celebrating Thanksgiving and told me that his family does because of his time in the U.S. He makes a pretty standard Thanksgiving meal from the sounds of it and was happy to share the other “American” style food he likes to make – like meatloaf! He also shares a love of percolated coffee and enjoys “8 o’clock bean” when he can find it. He thinks the best place to have a coffee is the Calypso Hotel in Marsalforn – expensive but worth it. By the time we finished our chat, I’d been talking with Tony for three hours and we’d talked about a number of other things as well including all of his animals and pets (which include dogs, cats, turtles, cockatiels, chickens and rabbits – the rabbits for eating), where to get the best pizza in Gozo (Zebbug), his farmland, the professions of Gozo and how nurses policemen and teachers all have to wait for people to retire or die to get a job on the island…well you get the picture…a lot. The only reason we wrapped up talking was because he needed to close the shop and meet someone on his farmland to take care of some tilling. He said that I could come back anytime I wanted and said he’d enjoyed talking with me.

Now here comes the "ugly" -- I’ve discovered a truism of both the U.S. and Malta. 50 year old divorced men love me. As I sat waiting for the bus back to Victoria I got ogled by a man on a motorbike who drove slowly past and said hello making even the French couple sitting down the bench from me laugh. He then parked and came over to introduce himself after trying to lie and say there were no more buses so I’d have to take a ride with him. Thankfully I’ve heard that trick before. His name is Joe and he spent 10 years in London. He has 2 children, a boy who is 27 and lives in London and a girl who is 25 and lives in Dubai. He said he had spent the day swimming in Ramla. He was overly tanned and wearing a gold earring. I kept thinking that if Wim were there he would’ve died because I’m SURE we’ve seen this guy on the beach sunning himself at some point. Gross. He asked if I would go for a coffee with him and I politely declined. He said he’d leave me at peace and he was going to talk to a friend and then go to Victoria to get his bike fixed. 5 minutes later he was back, this time sitting much closer to me. The body dynamics were amusing at least. He kept getting closer and took his sunglasses off so I could see his eyes. Meanwhile I had my arms and legs crossed and never took my sunglasses off - he wasn't seeing anything of me. The guy didn’t get the hint. This time he tried to tell me that the bus had come and gone up the street and I’d missed it, “sexy lady.” I almost died laughing at that because I’d woken up with an enormous zit on my cheek and wasn’t feeling like a sexy lady. He chatted me up for another 10 minutes, asked me for coffee two more times and then FINALLY left. The whole thing was comical more than anything, especially with the French couple sitting down the row and snickering about it with me.

Returning to Gozo I stopped at the Liquer store to get some water for the apartment and Joe (the owner…not the creepster) was there. He asked if I went to the funeral last week. I told him I had and said I’d heard someone died on the ferry last week. He said yes and that the funeral would be tomorrow in Qala (pronounced “Ah-La”). He said he might go to it because he knew the man’s sister.

Feeling a bit jittery about my interactions with Joe the creepster I decided to blow it off by going to talk to Anna. She was taking some photos for her website of her “new arrival” items so we talked while she worked and by the time I left I felt much better.

All Souls Day

It turns out that All Souls Day is not the best day to try to do a seriation. Do some observations of people commemorating their dead? Absolutely. But trying to get any information from the tombs themselves would’ve been impossible. Why? Because man do the Gozitans go wild with flowers on All Souls Day. Most of the tombs were so well commemorated that they were completely covered with flowers and candles and I would’ve never been able to read off interment dates or names without sheistily moving things around and that was definitely not an option. I only found three tombs out of the roughly 400 at the Xewkija Cemetery that had not yet had flowers placed on them. The same was true at the Rabat Cemetery and there were about 30 – 40 people within each cemetery at any given moment while I was there. This compares drastically with last year when I was there on a random day in August and only saw two other people and very little in terms of flowers and candles. I noticed that many of the flower arrangements had come from the florists I had interviewed and wondered how busy they must’ve been this week preparing these arrangements. Talk about a sales spike.

I’m posting two pictures here. The first is taken in the Rabat Cemetery that random August day last year and the second was taken on All Souls Day – just to give you an idea of what I’m talking about.

Because the families share tombs it was not always clear who the commemoration is for. Were flowers left primarily because of a remembrance of the most recent loved one lost? Or in honor of all of the ancestors buried there? Because of the family structure in Gozo and the extended interactions between grandparents and grandchildren, there’s a higher probability that commemoration will be done for grandparents as well as the Gozitan collective memory is more likely to include them. Unlike cemeteries in the US…those of the long departed will often look as if they haven’t been visited in decades. It reminded me of Kilena telling me she pays for masses to be said twice a year for her grandparents despite the fact that she never met them.

As I walked through the cemetery I thought about what kind of response I would have if someone were to ask why I was there (though why would you?). I thought a lot about the concept of deceit in anthropology and when it’s appropriate to be less than truthful. I normally don’t have a problem with starting off with a general “I’m here to study Maltese culture” response but being situated in the cemetery as people engaged with their deceased it felt disrespectful to be so brazen. I thought about how, in my days as a devout Catholic I would’ve perhaps gone to the cemetery myself at home on All Soul’s Day. I thought that if someone asked it might be more respectful and appropriate to say that though I can’t spend the day with my own loved ones, I thought I’d spend it with someone else’s. Too cheesy, I know. Thankfully no one asked – and let’s face it – I would’ve told the truth anyway. Then I thought too about my time in Paris last year, meandering the Montparnasse cemetery which has become a tourist destination itself and the difference between cemeteries that are still used for commemoration and those that are frequented by tourists for a different kind of fan based, consumption commemoration. In that space I felt no qualms about snapping photos and capturing images of the tombs and statues. But in Gozo on All Soul’s Day it became difficult to cross the line and attract a disrespectful type of attention. In the end, I resorted to a few more “touristy” photos myself, pulling out the camera for a shot of a large cross monument, a sweeping shot of the lower portion of the cemetery to get an image of the magnitude of the flowers, and a shot of a cenotaph for someone lost in the war in 1942. These seemed “okay” and caused little to no disturbance or disrespect.

In terms of commemoration and performance I couldn’t help but think of the woman who told me it’s not that Gozitans are super religious it’s just that it’s become “their way” of doing things and it’s what they are used to. Life revolves around these traditions and practices and not necessarily the beliefs behind them. All of those tombs had flowers on them – how much of that is from a desire to commemorate and how much of that is from a peer pressuring necessity? Especially given how many people wandered the cemetery checking out the tombs and commemorative items left by others. The display becomes exhibit for consumption – a show of the love and devotion you have to your family and your loved ones. People pass and point out the beautiful arrangements, point out the lack thereof, wonder about the choice of monument, perhaps comparing it to their own. There were those whose number of flowers were overwhelming and others whose simplicity spoke volumes.

On one tomb, the ceramic photo plates, names and dates were listed in rows just as any other, with the font size of the names all equal until the most recent death which was of a small child. Here the family took the opportunity to single out this burial, adding below his photo, name and date a sentence of commemoration, a special prayer for the lost boy, marking him different from the other burials in their family for those that had a “good death” dying in their own time.
The display becomes an opportunity to re-dress the stone, re-appeal to the attentions of others, re-affix and re-affirm someone in the collective memory. In such an insular place the collective memory itself is a different animal – families marrying among families over generations, surnames repeating but not intermingling by the time you get this many generations out. I had been told that Alfred Grech’s family tomb was at the Rabat cemetery – there were more than 5 family Grech’s there but it stood out all the same. Alfred had told me of the inscription on the tomb. I only remembered it because Lino had commented on how long it is and kept cutting off his recitation but Alfred was determined and repeated the first two lines 3 or 4 times before being granted audience.

“Life is but a walking shadow
A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot.
Full of sound and fury – signifying nothing.” – Family Grech Tombstone

Now that I’ve seen it in context and read it in its entirety I will be following up with Alfred about it. Why that one? Is your family and ancestral group buried within that tomb saying life signifies NOTHING? Who picked that quote? And does he like it? Does the rest of his family who will eventually be buried there? It’s a very cynical quote for an island that, “religious” or not, puts its faith in the purpose of humanity and life as a means to the “GREAT” end yet this quote, out of context does not give much hope to that same end, nor does it give much hope in its fellow people, likening all of the players to idiots. Though, in knowing Alfred for the brief time I’ve known him, I wouldn’t be surprised to find his own vision of himself to be slightly above the masses. It’s still a very exclusive kind of quote, and written in English as well which also says something. Most of the tombs in both of the cemeteries are written in Maltese. Many are phrases from the bible, denoted by their listing of which verse they are after the quotation. This quote is Shakespeare – from Macbeth and of course part of a larger quotation. It is from after the queen dies. I’m rusty on my Macbeth. I am not sure if it’s the kind of quote that would make more sense to me if I knew the play better. This too lends to the exclusivity of the quote. I will most definitely ask Alfred about it.

I saw Philip at the post office today and he and I made plans to go to some cemeteries together on Saturday. I’m really glad too because there are quite a few cities on the island that the buses no longer run to so this means I won’t have to pay for a cab. I also ran into Sonja today as well and, after giving me another hug of course, she said that she and Maria (from the Cherished Moments store) talked about it and they both want to take me for a drink the next time Maria can get off of work early. Now that’s even better than a free chauffeur!