Wrapping up 2010

You might recall the last post - the trip to Malta for a wedding. Soon after that trip, it was time to go back yet again, this time for the Christmas break. You might also recall that the last flight was threatened by the snow and bad weather and Gatwick was on the brink of closure and we were flying from Gatwick. This time round, we were flying from Heathrow and, surprise, surprise, it was Heathrow's turn to be traumatised by the British winter!

The flight was scheduled for 8.40pm but the plane needed de-icing and left only after 10pm, arriving at Malta after 2am and thus finally going to bed almost at 3.30am. That particular night was probably the one and only really stormy night in Malta for December 2010 and the plane simply could not land but the wise pilot finally managed to get that Airbus on the ground with us passengers barely noticing, despite the heavy rain, lightning, thunder and wind that was enveloping the aircraft from all directions. By the time I was about to sleep, some God-sent rooster happily living in one of the neighbour's gardens decided to start crowing, but this was no hindrance to sleep immediately after landing in my bed!

We stayed in Malta for 10 days until Boxing Day but the week was full to the brim with activities. We had the traditional annual Christmas dinner with all of our mates, which included the Secret Santa antic (I bought my gift from London and with the 5 euro budget got a book worth £25!!) and in turn received a cool book of archaic, sadly disappearing Maltese words grouped under various topics. The next day I headed off to Valletta on a mini guys' night out and gladly remembered that in Malta you can buy a round for 4 with just 6 euro, whereas in London you pay that much for 2 drinks at most, if lucky. Good times; how I love Valletta. Then on the next day I had a reunion with some old mates, some of whom I had not seen for almost a decade and it was great catching up! Then Christmas Eve was very busy preparing for the Christmas do at home, which was more involving this year. Shopping, cleaning and cooking (well, helping thereof). And then we headed for a Midnight Mass at Valletta with the newly-wed couple from October's wedding (the couple from December were honeymooning at the Maldives!) and although the service was well animated and cheerful, it was too long and only finished in the early hours of the 25th...

On Christmas Day, we had a whole day of feasting, feeding, drinking and talking at home, where the dining room was filled to its capacity with the addition of the in-laws, but all went well. Especially the food, which I miss badly (English "cuisine" simply sucks) but at least it gets me to appreciate it more whenever I am at home. The Malta trip soon came to an end and on Boxing Day we headed back to London, the first flight in ages with no hassles! And once back in London, my poor wife embarked on a marathon of revising and studying for the January exams, which brought feelings reminiscent of December 2007 when I was studying for my own M.Sc. exams, except that I had 1 week less than her, so she cannot complain really!

I took a week off and stayed at home most of the time, except that the honeymooners made their final stop of their month long holiday here in London. This called for my London guide services, which we did this morning. We met them again later on tonight for the NYE fireworks display beside the River Thames, but that story spills over into 2011, so will leave it for the next post.

2010, the final year of the first decade of the new millennium, was a colourful year. The year characterised by the opening of Burj Khalifa (the world's tallest building) in Dubai, the Mexico Gulf oil spills much to the worry of BP, devastating earthquakes in Haiti and Chile, the Icelandic ash clouds, the iPad, the crisis in Greece and Ireland, the World Cup in South Africa and the fun related to Paul the psychic octopus, the elections in the UK, the 40th anniversary of Glastonbury, the "scandals" of WikiLeaks, the drama of the Chilean miners and the protests in London and Rome over high tuition fees and cuts in education budgets respectively.

In Malta, 2010 is remembered as the year of firework-related tragedies, the visit of Pope Benedict XVI, the deaths of Guido DeMarco and Nikol Cauchi, the series of mafia-style robberies and attempted murders, the presentation of JPO's divorce bill in Parliament, the quasi-comical floating coffins in the Qormi flood waters, the power station debates, the repeated countrywide blackouts, the collision of a truck into the Marsa bridge bringing the country to a halt, the Isle of MTV and massive concerts by Elton John, Rod Stewart and Joseph Calleja and the usual never-ending tit-tat of Maltese politics.

For me, 2010 will be simply characterised by one event: the year of our wedding.

The final wedding of 2010

Soon after the Crewe experience, I must say that the temperatures started to seriously plunge closer to freezing and, in a few days, also went down below freezing. I am not one who usually complains of the cold, but the past 2-3 weeks were really cold! And I also got a cold. And it soon started snowing. After 2.5 years in the UK, this was not the first time I saw snow but I was still excited to see the usual London streetscapes being transformed to one uniform shade of white. But there was more distress than pleasure to this particular snow fall...

The unusually heavy snow meant that many airports across the UK had to close down, including Gatwick Airport. And it happened that we had to make one rare use of Gatwick to fly down to Malta for the wedding of 2 of our good mates! The flight was scheduled on the Saturday at 7.30am and Gatwick was meant to be closed till the Friday at 6.00am. It did open on the Friday but 80% of the flights were cancelled. So we spent all Friday checking the train company, airport and airline webpages for constant updates. Come Friday midnight, all was scheduled to work, except that the earliest train was leaving Victoria at 6am and the gate closed at 7am. Tight. We slept and got up at 3.30am, hoping for the best.

Remembering that morning brings fresh pains. It is already hard waking up so early, but even harder venturing in a temperature of -2 or so and in the rain. To cut a long story short, we made it to Victoria (2 buses worth of travel) and hoped that we get our booked train (the 5am one). Alas, we had to get the 6am train, which got to Gatwick at 6.35am, took the shuttle to the North Terminal and got there at 6.50am and impatiently passed through security at 7.00am and arrived at the gate at 7.03am after one frantic run. Just in time! All buckled and breathless, the plane took off and 3 hours later landed in Malta, where a temperature of 18 degrees awaited.

And now for the big day, the purpose of our trip: Daphne's and Vince's wedding. It was a splendid Sunday morning, sunny and crisp. We headed off to Naxxar church and all was punctual and well-organised (what else would you expect from the bride?) and again it was a good time to recall that fateful day in March, almost 9 months ago...once all was done in church, we crossed the road into the Palazzo Parisio and the fun began. Good food, good drink, good music, dancing, repeated carrying of the bride and groom on shoulders by different groups of friends (I thought this was to be done only once at the end, but I was clearly mistaken!) and lots of catching up. The final carrying on shoulders was done by "our" party, down the elaborate marble staircase, which was a tricky task, but all was done safely and surprisingly efficiently, given the levels of alcohol consumed by that time.

Once the newly weds headed off to their honeymoon suite, the rest of us headed off for a coffee and organised a Secret Santa for our annual Christmas dinner. Oh yes, by the way, in 4 days we head back to Malta and this trip will invariably be characterised by, not one, but many Christmas dinners!

This the season to be jolly

Very soon I will be flying home (for yet another wedding!) and soon after that trip there will be another trip during the Christmas recess. I know this is utterly profane and wrong, but Christmas immediately brings to mind vast amounts of food, copious volumes of alcohol and a gift here and there. The official opening ceremony of the Christmas season's festivities kicked off this week with an office dinner...

A few weeks ago, at the office, we came up with the idea of organising a Christmas dinner. As always, I immediately took over and was responsible for setting it all up. So one lazy afternoon, I drafted an email (which was well-organised in the form of a scientific paper), set up a Doodle website for the participants to vote as to which date they prefer and in a few days all was done. It was decided to have it midweek in early December in order to make sure that all are still around. And so we headed off for the #223 Christmas dinner on the 2nd day of December.

The venue I proposed and which was unanimously chosen was an Italian restaurant just off Oxford Street. The wine was good, the food excellent and the company great. After antipasto, main course and dessert, we headed off to Carnaby Street to a typical English pub where we downed a couple of pints, until we heard the obnoxious bell ringing at 11.30ish, which meant that we had to vacate the place. One of my mates suggested going to a blues bar, which was a wise decision, for the band playing live was nothing but superb. Extensive photographic evidence suggests that we all had a good time at the blues bar!

Once the gig was all done, it was "still" 1am, so we headed off to a place called "The Bar", in a small alleyway off Oxford Street. This is probably the weirdest place I have seen so far in London. A narrow staircase leads to a 40 square metre room at basement level with walls all covered by mirrors to give a false illusion of space. The crammed space was packed with people who seemed to be there from the 1960s: middle-aged, thin men with long hair and hippie T shirts, scantily clad women clearly having enjoyed the odd heroin shot earlier and normal people, like us. The music was surprisingly good and it was a good way to conclude the night. I was shocked to pay a visit to the loo and, while using the urinal, I heard shuffling and panting in the locked WC cubicle. Unbelievable.

At 3am, I decided it is best to head home and try to get some sleep. One bus ride later and a short walk from High Street Ken, I was at home and after one hot power shower, I was all assembled in bed, where I stayed till 10.30am the next day. Malta in less than 24 hours and Malta again in less than 2 weeks! What a good start to the festive season of 2010!

A week up in the north

After the weekend in Essex, it was time for me to travel up to the north of England, the furthest north I have been so far in the country (and indeed the furthest in the Europe or even in the world!) but this trip was no holiday; I was attending the Simulia UK RUM 2010, or, in layman's terms, a conference...

One thing to immediately comment about: the English love their acronyms! Everything is abbreviated (even the name of their country is reduced to UK). During my first weeks at uni, I was confused by all the jargon involving 2 or 3 letter "words" all over the campus: SCR, JCR, SAF, ICT and all the others related to my work: MOD, DSTL, UD, PUR and what not. Oh, by the way, the RUM signifies "Regional Users' Meeting"; the conference was really a gathering of users from all over the UK of a particular piece of software (ABAQUS, but this is not an abbreviation, as far as I know!)

I was not quite aware of such meetings, until a few weeks back my co-supervisor sent me an email and suggested that I should attend to this 3 day conference. I gladly accepted and, after recovering from a 2 day cold last week, on Monday night, I headed off to the north, precisely to a town called Crewe up in Chesire. I was totally not familiar with the place (except for my knowing of the existence of a Chesire cat, albeit I saw no cats during my stay there) but upon arrival after a 3 hour train journey and reading almost half a novel (which I found quite pleasant - more later), I took a taxi and this took me promptly to my destination: Crewe Hall just outside the town.

Now this conference was being held at the hotel forming part of Crewe Hall and I thought it best to stay at the venue to save on daily commuting time and money. This was probably the best choice made during this week, for the place was simply wonderful. I felt like I was in a set of a Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings movie: an ancient, wonderfully-kept mansion with sculpture, wooden panelling and ceilings, elaborate staircases, low lighting and, of course, excellent hospitality. And the "small single bedroom" I had reserved was absolutely gorgeous: huge, warm, brand new fittings and of modern design. I indulged into the bath and slept like a baby, ready for a week's worth of listening and lobbying and talk.

The next morning, after a power shower, I headed down to the brasserie, where a massive buffet breakfast awaited. And what a breakfast that was! The conference kicked off, with intermittent coffee/tea breaks and lunch, till the evening when the whole group headed off to the main hall for a banquet. The hall was accessed from a labyrinth of high corridors, typical medieval construction, but with elaborate Victorian décor. The hall itself reminded me of that in Windsor (but on a much smaller scale, of course). The food and service were excellent and fruity, Spanish wine was flowing. A good dessert and coffee brought the first day to an end. After dinner, I wandered around the Crewe Hall and took a few shots of the lit façades and the interiors and then headed off to my room for another relaxing bath and a good sleep.

The second day was very much like the first, except that the sessions ended at 4.30pm, which gave me a good afternoon's worth of reading, during which I finished the novel I mentioned earlier. The Botticelli Secret went down quite well, especially since I like historical novels and especially when they overlap fact with fiction in a seamless fashion. After finishing Dan Brown's The lost symbol a few weeks ago, this next book I read was very fitting. In the evening, I headed down to the main restaurant and had a wonderful dinner - warm soup and grilled salmon and vegetables cooked in the most tasty way. I finished the day in the same way as before, but my new read was my revisiting of Huxley's classic Brave new world (though I only managed a few chapters, I must say that the first 1 or 2 are my absolute favourite).

The third day was a day-long seminar which included good lecturing and very practical hands-on sessions. The day came to an end around 5pm (and, by the way, in addition to the buffet breakfast, also had a buffet lunch!) and then I started my long journey back to London. During the trip, I completed Brave new world, which I found, even after having read it again, totally dramatic and was keeping me off my seat with adrenalin. My reflective moods were triggered by Huxley's fictional vision into the future (well, his future is really our present) and this made me start writing down a few ideas of my own. Nothing socio-political, for that is not my cup of tea, but more on these writings will come up in this blog for sure in the future...

Back to London, I was almost shocked to find that in a few days, my "home" city had turned into a wintry scene: all the trees in Lexham Gardens were naked and all the streets were covered in a crunching carpet of autumn colours: gold and yellow leaves all over the place. The light drizzle and quite strong wind helped, but I must say that is far "warmer" here that it was up in Crewe! I was back in the office on Friday and (almost) concluded my transfer report, which will be the official stepping up from 1st year to 2nd year of my Ph.D., which I hope to do before Christmas...

The land of the East Saxons

I never understood why there are areas in England called Wessex, Sussex, Essex and Middlesex. Not to mention failing to understand why there is no Northsex? Ever since I was a child, whenever we sent Christmas card to my uncle who lives in Middlesex, I was mystified by the notion of combining terms for geographical bearings with the 3 letter word at their ends. The meaning was undisclosed upon my arrival to the UK a few years ago (the names are remnants of the old English names for the various kingdoms of the Anglo Saxons). Last weekend, my wife and I headed off for the eastern part of the country - Essex - and this trip included "firsts" on many levels.

It was the first time out of London for October. It is always welcome to flee from the capital and its busy life and spend a few days away from the laptop and not think about work and Uni work.

It was the first time I was on a "HOST" visit. By some serendipitous accident, I found out about this scheme a few months ago, whereby one can apply to go and spend a weekend with a host family, whom the organisation locates for you according to your likings and travel limitations. Once there, the hosts will show around the local area and be introduced to English customs and food. So after the application, all arrangements were done and off we were to Chelmsford, the main town of Essex.

Upon arrival, we were picked up by our hostess (her husband was still at work). We drove to their cosy home outside Chelmsford in Bicknacre and started chatting about our studies and work, Malta, their travels across all over the world and plans for the weekend. The husband arrived soon after and then we had a lovely cottage pie for dinner and after a warm shower headed off to sleep to recharge for a day out tomorrow.

On the Saturday, the weather was absolutely wonderful. Sunny and crisply fresh. We got into the car and headed off to Thaxted in the north of Essex. We walked around the quiet village, its church (more of a cathedral, really) and up to the windmill, which reminded me of the windmill in the cartoon adaptation of Orwell's Animal Farm. Back on the motorway, we headed to another tiny village, Finchingfield, where another first occurred: having English cream tea. A very tasty and anything but low calorie meal of fruit scones, Tiptree jam and clotted cream, all washed down with English tea (or coffee). It was really wonderful but the cholesterol intake made me feel guilty for the rest of the day! A "quick" stop at a massive shopping village forced us to buy a new pair of shoes each and a jacket for me too at great prices, and the day's travels were concluded by a visit to Maldon along the River Blackwater, where we saw a number of barges, which looked very pretty under the setting sun. A drive back home and we had a lovely dinner of chicken and another first (eating swede), accompanied by endless talk and a glass of good red wine. The day was finished off by a good sleep, including an extra hour due to the end of summer time!

The weather on Sunday was less attractive; it was drizzling in the morning. After breakfast, we went off to church and then drove down to Southend-on-sea. Except for the varying tide (which I always find very fascinating and beautiful to photograph), this seaside town reminded me of home but had a particular characteristic: it has the longest pier in the world! A mile and a third to be precise (2158 m if you happen to decipher metric measurements more easily, like me). We walked down the pier, had a quick lunch at the cafe at the end, walked back the pier (in the hope of burning off some of the previous day's cream tea!) and then visited the many amusement outlets along the promenade. It was a pleasant visit indeed! Back home, we had a great Sunday roast cooked nothing short of perfection: pork, crackling (mmm), stuffing, potatoes, parsnips (mmm!!), courgettes and gravy, followed by rhubarb crumble (another first) and coffee.

It was time to head back to London and so our kind hosts drove us to Chelmsford station and after bidding goodbye, started our journey back to London. It was a welcome break amidst the scholastic year and I am sure that "HOST" will be getting another application from us for sure!

Here comes the bride...

It had been more than 2 months since I last was home but now it was time to go back, mostly not by choice but by default: 2 of my good friends were getting married! Of course, necessity is the mother of invention and the idea of travelling back (albeit for only a weekend) was more than welcome!

This time round, the flight was somewhat of a patriotic act, since the chosen carrier was AirMalta rather than one of the low-cost ones, and this had the "luxury" of travelling at a relatively decent time and from an airport of easy reach (though this was from Gatwick which is far less convenient than Heathrow but always better than Luton or Stansted). The night of arrival implied very little sleep, probably a mix of adrenaline, change of sleeping location and eagerness to start the new day on the following morning! As always, it was great to be home, enjoy the endless supply of Kinnie, savour the irreplaceable pastizzi and of course just being home. But let me go straight to the Sunday morning, the day of Oriana's and Matthew's wedding...

One must keep in mind that during the previous week and also on the eve of the wedding, it virtually did not stop pouring almost all day long. I was dreading the fact that the religious celebration was taking place at Mdina (implying a walk from the car park outside the Silent City to the church at the tip of the city's winding main street...in the rain) and the reception was taking place at Sliema (implying a walk from some lucky parking slot hundreds of metres away from the venue...in the rain). However, the Sunday morning was almost like summer, with ample sun and a big sigh of relief from my part...and definitely a bigger one from the bride's!

The drive from home to Mdina was pleasant - sunny, smooth and in time. It was good to catch up with all of my mates and former work colleagues who turned up at the church. The mass was scheduled for 11am; we were there at 10.30am...but the groom only arrived at 10.55 and the bride...well, a few minutes late! I always heard stories of how one would feel at weddings after his/her own wedding, but I always thought such tales to be quite soppy. However, the wedding did bring back memories of our own wedding and, in the elliptical Baroque church of the Carmelites, the setting was perfect to recall that fateful evening back in March...I did my "prayer of the faithful" along some of my other mates and am proud to say that it was all done with no hints of London-ese accents!

When all was done (pun intended!) we headed off to Sliema, after I was delighted to hear that we could park within the hotel's car park, which took away all the dreaded "Sliema parking" experience. I had never been to the venue but, up on the 9th floor terrace of the modern hotel, the venue was nothing short of breathtaking. The Mediterranean sun, sea views and panoramic views of the capital and beyond, it was a good place to catch up with friends and old friends and also to enjoy my short time at home. Sunglasses constantly on, the hand permanently occupying a glass and endless banter, the day went by, with the compulsory consumption of G+T and Negronis and the usual exhibit of wedding dancing and the traditional lifting of the bride on the shoulders on the way out to the hotel suite...

Now that I am back in London, I look forward to the next Malta trip which will be, yet again, another wedding! And that will mean another post...

Whole lotta writin' - Sleeping

I have been writing now for over an hour and I think I need to recap and endorse on that magical activity which is the highlight of my day (if you consider 11.37pm as day)...I mean, I need to sleep.

Just to conclude, I have just finished my first year of my Ph.D., which means some 30% done. I will soon need to officially transfer to my second year, but that is another story...

Last week, another buddy of ours, who just moved to the UK to start his own M.Sc. at Bath, came down for a 30 hour visit to London, which was as hilarious as much as he is and once more spoilt my jogging efforts of an entire week by a single trip to China Town for a massive dinner and a couple of pints at our local pub...

At the same time, another good friend who is working in China flew over to the capital on vacation, primarily to visit his new-born nephew and also to catch up since the last time we met a couple of months ago. In fairness, we did not have much to catch up on, since we chat online almost daily and are always up-to-date, but at least we were for a few days in the same time-zone and could greet each other "Good morning/afternoon/night" with the same ending in each case!

All the visitors are now back to their workplaces, be it 2 hours away or 15 hours away, and we are back to work too. Actually this week we are off to Malta for one of our frantic 50 hour trips, which will surely be the subject of my next post!

Whole lotta writin' - Nottingham

If I am not mistaken, one week after the "Open House", Marianna and I realised that very soon, it would be a new chapter in her life: she would be resuming her studies after an absence of 4 years from academia by starting an M.Sc. at Imperial College. We thought we should have a weekend break out of London before this time, which, from experience, I know will be a busy one. We checked a couple of towns across the UK and then I remembered! A quick call, a booking, a small suitcase and off we headed to Nottingham for a weekend!

One of my buddies whom I have known for over a decade now, JPZ, is doing a Ph.D. at Nottingham. Since I have been here in the UK, I have visited him twice at Notts and once at Worthing while he was working there, and he has come down to London a couple of times too. Since Marianna had never been to the home of Robin Hood in the Midlands and it had been a couple of months since we had seen JPZ, we abused of his open invitation to visit any time and thus we decided that Nottingham it shall be!

The trip was longish - 3 hours by coach is just at the limit of my endurance, especially the first hour which is simply getting out of London and embarking on the M1. Once we got there, the usual thermal shock: it is way colder there than London! JPZ and his better half picked us up and we headed to his flat, where we had a welcoming meal and a good bottle of wine and a deserved sleep...

The next day was possibly the most beautiful dose of weather for September. We all headed off to the Peak District, where we set off on a walk up to a cavern upon a hill, Thor's Cave, the ascend to which was (in the words of JPZ) about to give me a heart attack. But it was worthwhile the effort since the view was amazing. The descent was far easier and then another walk up to another peak, Ecton on Hill. The beauty of nature in this part of England is beyond words: fresh, pure air, abundant stretches of green and streams, no cars, no planes, no buildings, nothing really except hills, trees, grass...and cows.

All this was followed by a hearty pub lunch, a drive back to Notts, a walk around the city centre, the compulsory pit stop at a Nero's Cafe and then back to the flat. A quick shower and change of clothes and then a massive dinner at a Thai restaurant which probably restored my calorie intake to more than it was before all the walking in the morning. The night was concluded by a visit to Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem pub, the oldest one in England (or so it says). I love that place!

On Sunday we did not stay long and only visited the city centre for some shopping and going around. After all the goodbyes, we headed back down to London and got ready for another week of normal life in the capital. I look forward to another weekend break around England (and beyond!), away from the hustle and bustle of our host city we are temporarily calling "home".

P.S. The image in this post is not an edited version of the cover of the Floyd album "Atom Heart Mother" but is a snapshot of the cows mentioned in the text above!

Whole lotta writin' - Buildings

Since my first arrival in London (of which I happened to celebrate the 3rd anniversary on 22/09), I have been reading in my "Lonely Planet" guide to London about the annual "Open City" (now renamed "Open House") in the capital. This is an annual event in which many buildings are open to the public, for free but, more importantly, some of these buildings are only open during this time! In 2007, 2008 and 2009 I failed to attend this special event (2007: I had just arrived in London and missed it by a week, 2008: I was complete my M.Sc. thesis and had better things to do, 2009: I had not yet moved back to London and so I missed it, again). This year, I was 100% determined to go, at all costs...

And so the "Open House" kicked off on 18/09 and my wife and I headed off to visit one of our favourite-est buildings in London: the Lloyd's Building by Richard Rogers. The day was splendid, chilly but sunny - perfect for pictures and enjoyment. Upon arrival, I was shocked to see a massive queue, but happily this was progressing fast and in 20 minutes, we were inside the hi-tech 1980s marvel. I lost count of the number of times I visited the Lloyd's (from the outside of course), but each time I see it, it gets me shivers: the neatness of design, the attention to detail, the immaculate finishing and the ingenuity of placing all services on the outside, freeing the internal areas from "wasted" space (lifts, stairs, WCs, service shafts etc)...sorry, this has become an architectural lesson...But being actually inside, made me appreciate the last sentence even more: the vast openness of the office spaces without any clutter but maximised usage and all lit by natural light through the massive glazed atrium. And heading up to the 11th floor, the view was simply amazing.

The whole visit lasted just under an hour so this gave us enough time to visit another London landmark before lunch: the City Hall. A short walk across the city to the Thames and across Tower Bridge led us to "The Scoop" and the egg/helmet/testicle shaped building which landed controversy on Norman Foster's CV. We swiftly headed inside since there was no line whatsoever and the same story as before began: amazement at the detail, unusualness of design, quality of workmanship and (needless to say) endless number of photos. Up on the terrace offered a great view of the Pool of London and then down the huge ramp/staircase which takes up most of the building's footprint and which leads to the actual Hall.

A few years ago in my student days, these buildings and many others were only reachable through books and Google Images. Nowadays, I have the luxury of seeing these buildings first hand and, on special occasions like this, actually experience the spaces therein. After all, a building is not only a design or an image, but a volume, a liveable enveloped space. I love London!

Whole lotta writin' - Jogging

The next thing which comes to mind is jogging. The reader might recall that, many months ago, I mentioned my quasi-daily jogging activities. I am pleased to say that the effect of this was that I lost some 4 or 5 kg in a few weeks but I regret to say that this activity lasted only until the wedding, after which I regained those 4 or 5 kg and more! And I have proof for that...

The reader might also recall that in June I was in Budapest for a conference. During that conference, I wore a suit and it fitted me quite comfortably. Last August (i.e., 2 months later), I happened to try on the same suit and the trousers failed to go up any further than halfway my thighs! And this caused me a severe panic attack! Besides prompting me to buy a new suit (which, by the way, I really like!)

From that day onwards, I decided to take up jogging again, 3 to 4 times a week, as well as cutting out all the rubbish food I was consuming almost daily (nachos, crisps, desserts and that kind of stuff). The initial efforts were painful, but nowadays it has become part of the routine and I also invested in a new cool pair of running shoes which makes the effort much less stressful on my feet and also gives me incentive to get back on track, quite literally.

Despite the many urges from my wife, I keep insisting that I do not want to buy a scales to measure my weight but a few weeks ago, I happened to try again the trousers I mentioned above and, voila! The trousers did go up to the expected position and I also buttoned it, albeit not comfortably! So the effort is paying off! I hope that this time I will not abandon the exercise, both for the sake of fitting in my clothes but also for the benefit of my health!

Whole lotta writin' - Sketching

It is 10.22pm on a modest weekday and I decided to extend my writing antics, not in writing technical reports or journal papers but to update my blog. Given the late hour and the level of tiredness, I will try to remember all of the events from the past couple of weeks and record them here, but I cannot promise that I will not forget some minor episode; the good news is that there were no insignificant occurrences at all, as you shall read in this post and the few that follow...

The first thing that comes to mind is that after an absence of many months, years actually, I decided to start doing some sketching again, for leisure. In my early undergraduate years, it was part of the design syllabus to create sketches of urban and rural landscapes, abstractions as well as some nonsense, hoping to nurture the skills required to master architectural design. I recall the initial painful long stays outdoors, trying to sketch a streetscape, with pad on the lap, shadows changing with the setting sun, people stopping to stare and all the complications of drawing "live" in the street. More happily I recall the advent of the digital camera being accessible to all, my fun, isolated snapping trips and the comfortable sketching at home off the monitor, accompanied by background music, the omnipresent coffee mug and the liberty of intermittent yet regular breaks.

Back to 2010, I decided to start off by a set of sketches of Michelangelo's sculptures (again, off a monitor using photos I took at the plaster cast collection of the V+A or images off the net). Modestly, I think the work is getting better as the number of sketches increases; now, I even upgraded to a proper sketchbook rather than loose sheets!

To be honest, the first few consisted solely of naked (or almost naked) men, which may seem to be suspicious as to my mating habits really are. Not that I am homophobic, but I happen to be heterosexual and nowadays I am shifting towards the female nude (again, Michelangelo works). One problem: the Renaissance genius happened to sculpt mostly males and his females are really as muscular and well-built as any healthy athlete, so I guess I will soon conclude my Michelangelo series and seek an alternative subject...

So this activity started off in September and I am proud to say that I have managed to keep it going (to date) and intend to maintain it! Not that I have any ambitions in the art world, but at least it serves as a break from academia, math and the computer keyboard!

End of summer '10

Thank God for this one September afternoon when I am (shamefully) spending my lunch-break sitting at my workstation at Imperial; every cloud has a silver lining, for I plan to update my blogging antics once and for all before my memory starts to fail me...

So back in August, when the British summer was aiming at making an end, I headed down to Malta for a short break of 4 days. This particular flight started off as a challenging one: the flight was at 7.30am, which implied waking up at 1.30am, get ready to leave by 2.00am, take a night bus to Marble Arch at 2.15am, take the Green Line bus to Luton at 2.30am, arrive at the airport at 3.30am and finally head down to the Med. I included the "am" each time simply to emphasise the pain endured, but which was leading to a dose of real summer - no pain, no gain! The highlight of Sunday was a fiesta of Maltese rabbit for lunch prepared unfailingly by mum. Monday was a day spent almost entirely at the beach, which turned me from an expanse of ghostly white to a boiling red lobster. Tuesday was a fantastic day out virtually sponsored entirely by one of my good mates, who kindly gave us a mini-tour of the Maltese north-eastern coast by boat in the morning and an al fresco ride in his new sexy car in the evening. The day was concluded by a seaside BBQ with the rest of my Maltese friends. The last day started off with a sunny morning spent at The Point in Sliema and then back to London in the evening. An intense and delightful break which provided me with my annual dose of Vitamin D and good fun!

Back in London town, I was working on my first research paper which to date is virtually complete (except for one section which is pending due to lack of software to complete it!) but will hopefully be submitted to a journal for publication by autumn. It is great to know that , as I move on with my Ph.D., I will have publications which put my work into the public domain. Hopefully...

The end of the month was characterised by music! On my wife's birthday, I took her out to the musical We will rock you, which I thought was the closest thing to a concert by her/our favourite band, Queen. And then on Sunday (when my mum and sister were visiting), we went to see The Lion King, which was awesome. As usual, such events make me want to indulge into music, full time, but I suppose it is virtually impossible at this point in time.

Summer is drawing to an end (although today it is rather sun and warm!) and very soon it will be 3 years since I first came to London (albeit with a 6 month absence therein) and also the completion of my first year into my Ph.D. Which reminds me, my lunch-break is over and I need to get back to work!

Requiescat in pace, Profs

I am still shocked at the news of the passing away of Maltese President Emeritus, Prof. Guido De Marco (1931-2010).

I am not much of a fan of politics, especially Maltese politics, which are heavily saturated with partisan sympathy. I do, however, admire several giants of politics in the local scene, and one of the foremost of these is Prof. Guido de Marco. In my childhood, I was referred to as 'Guido' by my relatives, thanks to the random abundance of hair I sported which was similar to what the Profs. had in the 80s, clearly a man who lived up to the sign of the times. Throughout the next 2 decades of my life, I developed an admiration for the statesman, whose achievements surpass by far those of many Maltese politicians; being President of the UN General Assembly and President of the Republic suffice in this regard.

Earlier last year, whilst in Malta before my starting my Ph.D., I devoured de Marco's The politics of persuasion and my admiration for the statesman continued to expand. Such a great figure in the world of law, a holder of such a prestigious position in the global and local scene, and yet his writing is not any more complex than that of a well-versed adult, devoid of any unnecessary articulation but simple and accurate and, most admirably, diplomatic and ethical in all its forms of criticism towards his opponent.

I recall one ordinary morning last year when I was heading up Republic Street in Valletta towards my workplace when I spotted de Marco walking, slightly bent but steadily with the aid of a walking stick, with an immaculate suit and sunglasses. I said, slightly louder than usual to make sure he would hear, "Good morning, Profs" to which he immediately nodded, smiled and replied, "Buon giorno." Indeed, that morning I was heading to my workplace, which was the architectural practice of his son-in-law and this led to the following serendipitous event.

At the office, I was lucky enough to befriend my boss's son, one of de Marco's nephews, who, during one random afternoon chat gathered my looking up towards his grandpa, promptly set up an informal meeting with the President Emeritus. Indeed, prior to my departure from Malta to London to embark on my Ph.D., I had the great privilege of spending 30-45 minutes with Guido, who welcomed me in the Orangerie, his Hamrun home-cum-office, with confident hospitality as if he had known me for years.

I recall that meeting vividly, where we discussed on-going world and local politics, terrorism, his vision of Malta's future, his colourful rival Mintoff, well-deserved criticism of the latter and equally warranted appreciation where applicable of the former premier, the obvious talk on architecture and the architectural profession in Malta, my vision of the latter, my upcoming Ph.D. and informal talk of how I know his nephew and son-in-law. The meeting came to an end after Guido signed (in his characteristic green ink) my copy of his autobiography, in which he wished me "a bright future in [my] service of architecture and of Malta."

I was wholly impressed by the grandness of the character, which I was of course expecting, but never knew that such a giant would combine with such handsome quantities diplomacy, modesty and charisma even before a complete stranger. In later years, Guido had clearly lost weight and was no secret that his health had been deteriorating, but during that time in his elegant office, I thought to myself that his physical persona had surely diminished over the years but only to provide more room for his ever-growing internal grandeur, which is not subject to the limitations of the physical realm.

I will cherish that September morning of 2009 for the rest of my life.

Last week, Guido was admitted to hospital and was in a critical condition. Only 2 days ago, he was released from hospital and yesterday he reportedly said, "I feel I have been born again. Life is beautiful. I am seeing life with new eyes and I am looking to the future." Only 48 hours later, Guido passed on to a better life and he has lived up to his prophecy in all its correctness: he is born again in a world of no pain and is now conscious of a better existence where the future is unbounded and beauty is beyond what the eye can comprehend.

Rest in peace, Prof. de Marco and I assure you that I will do my best to keep up to your recommendation of serving the architectural profession and the mother nation which we both affectionately love: Malta.

No-u-velty in the Park

There is more than one legitimate reason as to why I have not written much lately.

Firstly, soon after my return from Budapest, the World Cup 2010 kicked off, quite literally. The event is of course much awaited but soon turned out to be quite a dismay; in case you do not know, I support the Italian team. Need I say more? The performance of the team was absolutely rubbish, unlike that of 4 years ago when the azzurri were crowned champions. I was not too upset by the early departure of my team from South Africa since I think I have had my fair share of soccer joy this year for Inter has won a record 3 cups this year. So I cannot complain really. Anyway, I still watched almost all of the games and this kept me quite entertained and thus refrained me from doing much other stuff, including blogging. So that's reason no. 1.

Secondly, I was quite busy with work. As usual, I will refrain from giving to much details, primarily because it will bore the reader to death and/or confuse you beyond any level of understanding. In addition, if I do so, I am afraid I will have to..well, kill you? Bond style! The work is slowly but steadily progressing and am getting some positive results, though I am anxious to get the materials over and start doing some lab testing which might prove to be slightly more interesting than handling and manipulating equations and tens of thousands of numbers. So that's reason no. 2.

And I guess those are the only reasons and will now get back to London. For 5 or 6 consecutive weeks, we have had unusual consistent sunshine and heat; on some days, it was actually hotter here than Malta (albeit only by 2 or 3 degrees, but still!) and temperatures were up to 30 or 31 degrees! And I can say that I got my first suntan for 2010 in the UK! Unbelievable! Of course, this was too good to be true and now things are back to "normal" at 21 or 22 degrees, but we are still getting decent levels of daily sun. I hope it remains so!

A couple of weekends ago, the wife and I went up to Oxford for a day. This was my second visit to the intellectual city but still managed to entertain myself anew and visited a few places I did not see before, including the Natural History Museum there, which is quite exciting. I wish only to add that I am so glad to be doing my Ph.D. in London rather than, say Oxford and this is not a case of sour grapes: (a) Imperial rules over Oxford at engineering anyway and, (b) what on earth would I be doing in Oxford after school hours?! I wonder how people entertain themselves there (besides binge drinking)...once you have seen the colleges etc. there is virtually nothing much to do! No wonder students there are such "nerds" for they have nothing else to do but study!

The highlight of the month was probably the unveiling of the 2010 Serpentine Pavilion. This year's design was entrusted to Jean Nouvel (for the architecturally illiterate, this is the guy who did the Agbar Tower or the Barcelona Gherkin). He is surely one of the giants of architecture of the 21st century and seeing one of his "free" creations (free as in not limited by pure function, planning, cost and whatever usually restricts 100% creativity in a normal building) is already a big bonus. But the real bonus was the fact that Nouvel himself was present at the opening in Hyde Park and explained the concept behind the design. And after the presentation he was available to take pictures and give autographs. Yes, well guessed: I managed to get my copy of his book signed and dated by him and also have a picture taken with the master (courtesy of the wife!)

And to round things up, yesterday we went down to Guildford/Cranleigh in Surrey at my cousin's place for a BBQ, which turned out to be tastefully (pun intended) successful and which also served as a massive gathering of the Micallef UK-based cousins and their spouses and children (were applicable). For over 50% of them, this was the first time they met my wife and to be honest, given that they have always been in the UK, I have not seen them as often in 25 years as I have have in the last 2, so such a gathering is also somewhat of a novelty for me too. It was a fun day, with loads of talk, laughter, child-rearing training (I can successfully keep a 1 year old happily entertained in my lap but that is all) and, of course, food and drink. Thanks again, K+A.

I think this summarises most of what has been going on in July. Now it is time to conclude the week with a good meal, a power shower and a massive sleep to boost me up for yet another week of Ph.D-ing as I count down for my sole summer trip to Malta in precisely 3 weeks' time!

A trip to the land of Magyar

It has become quite a habit of mine to break my own rule in keeping this blog entirely devoted to my stay in London. However, my recent week-long trip in the city of Budapest surely deserves some mention and, in fairness, it is indirectly an extension of my London work; the whole idea started off with my interest in attending a conference related to my Ph.D. in the Hungarian capital. I will try to be as brief as possible but not fail to portray my impression of the Magyar culture...

I am not sure where to begin for I have loads to write, but I think I will follow an approximate chronological order. The adventure kicked off on the first Sunday of June with a direct flight from Gatwick to Budapest which was all smooth. Upon landing for the first time in eastern Europe, I was surprised to find out that the climate is almost as good (or bad!) as the Mediterranean. Actually, the month of May was the wettest month in Hungary in the last couple of decades, causing widespread flooding all across the country. I thought it would be rather fresh, but that week probably happened to be the hottest week of the century, for I was greeted by fierce sunshine and temperatures roaring up to 40 degrees. I took a shuttle to the hotel, freshened up, left my stuff and headed off to the conference venue to register.

As I later found out, Budapest has a very good public transport system of trams, buses and metro. One minor detail: tickets are sold only in post offices and metro stations. The former are closed on Sundays and the nearest station was miles away from the hotel. Or else, you can get tickets from machines at bus/tram stops. Great, there was a stop just outside the hotel, but the machine takes only coins and I had only banknotes of several 1000 HUF! And this made me walk, which I do not mind doing at all. Being in possession of a map, walking about was a simple task so I could afford to look around. I was immediately impressed by the sheer amount of graffiti on buildings. And by the rough appearance of shops with dense metal grills outside shop windows. The same can be said for the housing blocks with repetitive window and balcony patterns, clearly an inheritance from the communist era. The occasional contemporary buildings were then obvious signs of capitalism slowly infiltrating within the landscape.

After registration, I headed off to the famous River Danube, which Strauss had described as "blue" in his famous waltz. I soon found out that the composer was either totally colour blind or had a great sense of humour or, more likely, was too optimistic and thought it would be better to describe the subject of his music as blue rather than a hue of brown (like all rivers, after all). I was amazed by the width and flow of the river but even more by the presence of a "30mph" sign in the middle of the water. I thought to myself, "The Hungarians even have speed limits for boats." I walked a further 50m and encountered a traffic light...some 20m away from the river bank. I was even more amazed to see that the Magyar people also have traffic signals for boats. But, 50m later, I saw a zebra crossing sign! Clearly this was not intended for swimmers! So I quickly realised that the river had actually flooded the embankment road and the water level had risen by a good 1.5 or 2m! And then I recalled the floods...

The first half of the week was mainly characterised by the conference and the persistent hot weather. The lectures were interesting and useful and I met one of my academic idols whose papers have been the subject matter of several weeks' worth of reading and subsequent work. But conferences are not just about academic work: there are also the social events, which will give a good taste (quite literally) of the local culture. The welcome reception was held at the splendid Gellert Hotel, where I visited the spa baths and pools therein. And then the gala dinner, which was held in an equestrian park in Godollo outside of Budapest. The dinner was preceded by a horse show, which was quite amusing but also made it quite obvious why Dracula originated in east Europe: I never was tormented by so many blood sucking mosquitoes in my life until that day. The dinner was great: the Hungarians know how to eat. Their food is all about meat; a vegetarian will not survive in Hungary. The goulash soup was brilliant and the paprika-infested meat of all kinds which followed was unbelievably tasty.

The conference came to an end on the Thursday, but this meant that my wife was flying over to Budapest on that day and then 3 days of holiday were about to start! Thus started 3 packed days of sightseeing, walking, snapping, eating, drinking and chilling. Accompanied, of course, by the burning sun during the day and the annoying insects at night. During the travels, I was impressed by the sheer level of manual labour replacing automated systems doing the same tasks in other European cities. For example, you get paper tickets written off by hand by a ticket seller. The tickets are checked by inspectors at the entry of each station rather than by an automatic turnstile. And virtually every single shop, be it a Tesco express or a Burger King, has its own security guard employed. Surely there are no unemployed people in Hungary.

I was impressed by the number of superb Baroque, Neo Classical and Neo Gothic monuments - the Parliament, the Castle, museums, palaces, churches, avenues and monuments. The buildings on the Pest side lack any of the graffiti found on the Buda side of the river. Of noteworthy mention are the Liberation Monument, which is sited on top of some 200m high hill, which we went up on foot and, given that the temperature was high 30s, the gradients were over 45 degrees and the water supply was lacking, once on top, I felt I was as triumphant as the 3 Maltese who recently scaled Everest. The view was definitely worth it, though. Another demanding exercise was going on top of the 95m high dome in St. Stephen's Basilica, which entailed some 30 floors of stairs! Again, the view was breathtaking. I was impressed by the quality of the metro: the stations are airy, modern and all clad in marble and the platforms are clean, wide and even. Surely unlike some of the London underground! In fairness, there are only 3 lines in Budapest, but still I think they are an example to be followed. On the other hand, the train carriages are vintage machines, probably discarded prototype trains from communist Russia.

On Saturday night, we had dinner in the Castle in a very nicely decorated restaurant which was surprisingly quiet. The food was awesome; we started off with a bowl of goulash (naturally) and then I had pheasant and the wife had pike. And mentioning food, I forgot to mention the trip to the Market Hall, which was entirely dominated by meats of all sorts and all animal body parts, including tongue, tripe and, erm, genitalia. We did not fail to buy some Magyar sausages to bring back to London with us; half of the supply is shamefully gone already! And another aspect of Budapest: spa life. My wife and I enjoyed an hour or so in the hotel's jacuzzi and sauna and this was very welcome, given the aching muscles and blistered feet after several kilometres' worth of walking! The sights are beautiful, especially at night, with the illuminated Castle, Chain Bridge and Parliament defining the skyline in a most appealing way, probably even more than daytime. Needless to say, this deserved many, many photos and attempts in getting the right exposure and shutter speed to get the desired product...some things never change!

The week soon came to an end and on Sunday afternoon we headed to the airport and back to London, where we were welcomed by sun but cooler temperatures and fresh air. Besides bringing back a considerable level of suntan, a dozen or so mosquito bites, 1.5 GB worth of pictures and (of course) sausages, I can now say that I have visited an eastern European country, with official proof in form of a stamp on my passport. I am sure the nation has come a long way but I think it takes more than the pulling down of a wall or the replacement of a communist regime by a capitalist ideology. The biggest change is not a physical or political one - it is far easier to dismantle a concrete wall the size of the Berlin Wall or to replace an entire government system rather than changing people's mentalities overnight. It will require a few generations to go by for the western mentality to sink in and make the city a rival to other European capitals. Albeit all this, the Hungarians have ample potential to make their capital a modern, western-world city and are well on their way in realising this potential.

Of course, now I am back in London and the holiday mode is switched off. I had a terribly busy week at work, trying to catch up with my modelling work and am obtaining some good results. Budapest was a welcome trip and a deserved break which renewed my energies for more work. And, on top of all, the 2010 World Cup has started, which is keeping most afternoons and evenings busy! Forza Italia!

A trip to a Kentish town

For those readers who are familiar with London, especially the Camden area, you might initially suspect that this post is about a trip to the bohemian part of the city. I am afraid you are incorrect - this post is about a day trip to a real town in the county of Kent: the Royal Tunbridge Wells (referred to hereinafter as RTB for the sake of fast typing, or laziness). This trip was brought about by one of many departures (short and long term) in the office in the past couple of weeks, but perhaps this particular departure brought about a serendipitous trip outside of London...

In the last week of May, one of my colleagues went off for a mini Euro trip across France, Holland and Germany; I cannot comment much on this for, to date, I have not seen the guy (though he is back to the UK but clearly taking his time to resume with his appearances at Imperial). Another one of my colleagues went off for a weekend in Riga, which I heard a lot about and I would say, diplomatically, that such a trip is not exactly my cup of tea. Yet another colleague took the Eurostar to Brussels for a weekend in the first week of June and all I know for sure about this trip is that his mobile phone ended up at the bottom of a swan-infested lake. Finally, another colleague of mine was about to head off to Valencia for 3 months on a research placement and thus, before she departed, she invited a group of friends over for a BBQ at her house in Kent, precisely in RTB.

My wife and I promptly booked tickets for RTB as soon as we received the invite and decided to go "slightly" earlier than the given time to wander around the town. And so we did. And on that particular weekend, I had to prepare my suitcase for my own departure, precisely on the next day! The packing was done and dusted in no time, mainly due to the assistance of my wife and also due to my frequent travelling which has made me an expert of short-term packing. Back to RTB. The trip was pleasant - just under an hour and amidst countryside and blessed with sunshine. We soon found out that RTB is not as flat as London but is rather hilly, which at first was exciting but then proved to be stressful in the unusually hot and sunny weather!

RTB is a little town which has nothing of the hustle and bustle which dominates London but has plenty of English charm that I find very relieving given that London tends to get so busy most of the time. The Pantiles area and the spring were particularly interesting and (needless to say) merited a generous number of photo taking. Wandering around the town centre, shopping areas and various parks brought the morning/early afternoon to an end and then off for the BBQ, which was the main motivator behind the trip to RTB!

Of course, I love BBQs and this one in particular even more since I could sit for the entirety of the do and not bother with grilling stuff as I usually end up doing in most BBQs back home; it is somewhat taken for granted in Malta that the men are "in charge" of BBQing. Consumption of meat, bread, sangria, cheeses and cake made it extremely hard to leave my seat and the fact that it was virtually still broad daylight at 8pm did not motivate me much further to leave! Alas, around 9pm, I had to bid my friend farewell before her departure to Valencia and my own departure to Budapest in 15 hours' time! But that is another story...

"This is my dream"

I am aware of the fact that this blog was meant to be devoted to London and how my times in the city are unfolding. However, I broke this continuity in the last post since I referred to my last visit to Malta and described most of the events which took place over last weekend. I am afraid I am going to proceed with yet another post which is more or less Malta-specific but which I cannot help not writing about: the Eurovision song festival.

For the past couple of years (I could almost safely say "decades"), the Eurovision is the highlight of Malta's cultural calendar. There are 101 issues which need to be tackled in Malta from various aspects of life: social, economic, political (I will illustrate just one aspect later on)...but around the beginning of February, the country pauses all its operations in order for it to hold a Song for Europe festival. This usually features the same couple of singers singing songs written by the same couple of songwriters - a totally predictable affair of Mr.X singing a ballad-type song, Mrs.Y singing a pop-style song and so on and so forth. This year, the winning song was a ballad (surprise, surprise) and was won by a newcomer to the local music scene. Hundreds of minutes worth of airtime on all TV channels followed, discussing the song, the video, the dress, the singer's likes and dislikes and other such stupid waste of time devoted to these futile matters rather than discussing more useful matters relevant to the country's well-being. And all this built up a momentum up to May, when the real festival takes place.

Since last year Malta failed miserably in securing a decent placing, this year's song had to first qualify through a semi-final night and then be "promoted" to the final night. And, yet again, the country came to a standstill on Tuesday night when the semi-final took place. Unless you are Maltese, you might not know that Malta failed to qualify. I predict that once this poor lass returns back to the rock, another limitless array of TV discussions, analysis, debates and intellectual efforts consumed in trying to decipher why Malta failed to qualify will follow. My opinion about all this: stop this nonsense once and for all! Stop participating in this damn festival and set up our own annual music festival, in the same way the Italians have done with San Remo years ago. I can find a thousand reasons why we should not take part in this Eurovision anymore but will illustrate myself with one: financial.

Let me start off my argument with a set of case studies from the local context and which prove that one should not talk of absolute numbers but rather in terms of relativity (do not worry, dear reader, this is not a discussion of Einstein's theory of relativity).

For almost 20 years, the Maltese have been constructing a new general hospital which turned out to be a subject of controversy and debate but which finally was completed a year or 2 ago and is now one of the largest medical complexes in Europe. This monster of a project costs the Maltese tax payers about 2,300,000 Euro each week to run. This works out to be almost 300 Euro per minute (there is a specific reason why I am working out the cost per minute). Considering that this is a noble cause which provides such a service to the population, then I can safely conclude that it is money well spent.

Next, the Pope's visit to Malta last month. This visit of just 26 hours cost the Maltese tax payer 750,000 Euro. The 750,000 figure might be much less than the 2,300,000 I mentioned before but this blessed visit (pun intended!) works out at 480 Euro per minute. I will not even dare mentioning whether this was money well spent or not for I do not want to risk being banned from Malta for life, but let us say that the Pope's visit was of spiritual benefit for Malta and also "promotion" of the island on BBC and CNN (although this was more due to the famous Luqa phallus rather than Ratzinger himself). So far, so good.

Now comes the bombshell. Malta's participation in the Eurovision (or rather, attempted participation) cost us dear Maltese 400,000 Euro. This is almost 50% of the last figure but considering that there is a rule which states that Eurovision songs must not exceed 3 minutes, then this works out at 133,333 Euro per minute (thus this explains why I was considering cost/minute). Need I say more? The damn Eurovision costs Malta more than it costs to run its new state-of-the-art general hospital! It might be the smallest costs of these 3 case studies I chose, but it is by far the most expensive! Malta, wake up!

And considering the fact that Malta has a national debt of 4,000,000,000 Euro (in case you got confused with the many zeros, that is 4 billion), or almost 10,000 Euro per Maltese citizen, I am sure that we can find better things to do with 400,000 Euro each year rather than spending it on a festival which is nothing more than a political lobbying exercise disguised by some scantily clad singers singing crap songs to s****y tunes.

I am not a visionary like Martin Luther King, who had a very noble dream ages ago of a world where racism does not exist. I am not Malta's 2010 Eurovision singer with a song entitled This is my dream, which dream turned out to be a nightmare. I am just an ordinary Maltese citizen who has a very simple dream: the day when Malta bans Eurovision for good! Am I asking too much?

The land of smells, yells and bells

In my last post, I hinted out that I will be soon visiting Malta and indeed I did! This was the first trip back after the wedding, almost 2 months to the day since the last time I was there in March. The trip was relatively normal, albeit that the flight was from Luton and not from the convenience of Heathrow, but luckily there were no delays and the flight itself was not cancelled due to the famous Icelandic volcanic ash which recently caused distress to thousands of travellers. Three hours after leaving Luton on Friday late afternoon, I landed in Malta and there began a 3 day trip on the rock....

Saturday morning kicked off with an interesting errand which, once more was related to the wedding but, in this case, a post wedding affair: collecting the fully edited and finished wedding video! This provided entertainment for a couple of hours and the repeated viewings of the hour long movie in no way did bore me! Such good memories now set for posterity on a cool Blue Ray disc which will be useful in future narratives (in the style of How I met your mother) to the "kids" down the line. Back to 2010. Lunch consisted of a typical Maltese bread (ftira) garnished with tomato paste, tuna, olive oil, fresh mint from the garden, goat's cheese, olives and pickled onions - heaven! Nothing in London could ever compete with this! The "smells" part from the title of this post are definitely most enticing (unlike the smells referred to by the author of that phrase which was meant to describe Malta in the 19th century). A power nap in the afternoon got me ready for the highlight of the day: the final of the Champions League, i.e., Inter vs Bayern Munich.

For the non-football-follower, it is noteworthy to state that Inter have not been in the CL final for the past 38 years and last won the CL 45 years ago! Never in my lifetime! The team's recent track record has been fantastic: first Inter won Coppa Italia, then only last week won the 5th scudetto in a row and now, to complete a treble, needed to win the CL! My friends booked a table at a local football club which was going to show the game on a big screen and there we headed on the Saturday night. The setting was typical Maltese: cheap beer (think of it, a round for 8 people for 12 Euro!), constantly-topped-up small platters free nibbles, marinated bread, chicken wings, pasta and pizza to accompany the beer and the notorious Mediterranean sounds of agitation and service which thus forms the "yells" component of the title. One particular yell stood out: as soon as we got in the venue, I inquired for the reserved table and the bloke serving us replied, "Ha niccekjalek, siehbi" (Let me check, mate) and then he called his colleague, "Malcolm" or rather, "Mell-kimm" in a harsh Maltese accent and so loud that I thought Malcolm was still at home rather than at work! To cut a long story short, the game ended up as hoped: Inter won 2-0 and there are the new European champions! And thus a perfect ending to a great Saturday!

Sunday started off with Mass (and thus the "bells" aspect of the title!) and followed by a massive lunch at home: Maltese pasta bake wrapped in pastry or timpana. I still wonder why the Brits abstain from pasta so much! I love pasta (and anything which has carbs, really). Another power nap followed and then a short trip by the sea, although I must say that the weather was not terribly appealing and/or hot - it was far hotter back in London! The evening started off with dinner at the in-laws', once more, a generous helping of pasta to make up for my lack of pasta consumption back in London (this time farfalle with smoked salmon and cream). At this point in time, I could not move an inch, but this did not restrain me from a drive to Tigne' Point, where I visited the newly finished multi-million Euro project there which I must say is reminiscent of the well designed, well detailed and well finished projects of Liverpool Street and/or Canary Wharf in London. Well done, Malta. Welcome to the world of 21st century architecture.

Finally, a new week started. I did not do much, except for paying a visit to grandma and visit a furniture showroom which was opened a few weeks earlier and for which I had done the structural design back in 2007. Yet another project which I had formed part of its design team which is now a landmark building in Malta. This is the best part of my profession: seeing a building shift from being a drawing on a piece of paper to real-life structure built of concrete and steel (in this case, loads of steel!) In the evening, off the the airport and aboard another Ryanair flight which landed on time in London in the early hours of Tuesday. And Tuesday brought about normal routine life, although it was somewhat unusual since I had to visit the DSTL facility down in Salisbury for a project meeting, which started off as an intense physical challenge but then turned out to be very fruitful...

I know that this blog was meant to be devoted to my London life, but there were a few Malta-related events worth recording. The British David Niven had once described Malta as the land of smells, yells and bells, as I earlier pointed out. A few incidents from last weekend have provided an alternative perspective of how Malta can, indeed, be the place of smells, yells and bells! Apart from the replacement of Niven's unpleasant smells associated with unhygienic slum areas of 19th century Valletta by heavenly Mediterranean food which was my indulgence for a few days, I dare say that the yells and bells have not changed and are there to stay! Truly, a case of onlyinMalta.com!

A fistful of events, mk II

I almost cannot remember the last time that I dropped a few lines in this blog...I have had so much to do that I did not even have time to think about the blog, let alone write any post, so apologies for that. I will do my best to remember all that happened since mid April (well, that merits writing about, anyway!) and be concise in keeping track of my life at London...

At Imperial College, the month of May is associated with the annual graduation ceremony. This brought about two aspects to me: a looking back at the ceremony of 2009, when I received my M.Sc. and first D.I.C. (hopefully a second will follow when I complete my Ph.D.!) and a looking forward to the ceremony of 2010, when my old room-mate and "bro" was about to receive his D.I.C. and thus a reunion of 2 old roomies. A reunion which came about only a few weeks after a previous one, for this same good old buddy traveled all the way from China to Malta for our wedding. Needless to say, the reunion meant a recollection of the many adventures shared in London, a re-enactment of many a trip to the pubs in the W8 area of London and also lots of food and talk.

On the Graduation Wednesday, we headed off for a fishy dinner at Victoria, courtesy of the graduate, where I experienced some of the nastiest alcoholic consumptions ever; some sort of Portuguese variant of grappa which was utterly awful and alcohol content whose numeric description was nothing but disturbing, to both mind and liver alike. A night finished off at one of our favourite pubs, which trip was concluded by my receipt (and not theft!) of a very interesting Guinness pint mug which now forms part of my own collection.

Friday night was somewhat different from the usual trip to a pub, for some Chemistry society at Imperial threw a free party, with food, wine and live music. The first was limited, but the wine was flowing and good, while the music was...well, after wine any music sounds good! It was good fun but was not enough, for after all was done we headed to yet another of our favourite W8 pubs and finished off the night there...till the bell rang, of course.

On Sunday, I had an unusual trip to an unusual pub near Waterloo. I discovered the concept of an "open mic", where aspiring musicians can sign up to play in a pub hosting the "open mic", for free. For the past couple of weeks I had been playing with 2 colleagues from Imperial and we created a number of our own songs and decided it would be good to play in public. And there you go, we headed off to this place in Waterloo for a debut performance. One minor detail: I had to use the piano at the venue since my instrument is stranded back in Malta. And this piano was probably last tuned in the last millennium, literally speaking of course! The piano and guitar together were way out of tune and thus I had no choice but sadly not play! Any disappointment was soon forgotten since the night ended up with a good Chinese meal!

Before my dear friend headed back to China for his mission there, he handed me a design task which I welcomed with great pleasure. More than the design itself, which was limited to formulating an architectural layout for 3 floors of offices and 1 floor of apartments within an existing block (which is terribly boringly shaped with the most unattractive elevation ever), I was yearning to do some real design amidst my focused Ph.D. work which does not entail any design work at all. So it was really a blessing to spend a couple of days sketching, designing and draughting plans for this project. A project which turned out to be well liked by the client and which hopefully kicks off, making it my first solo project overseas and in the Far East!

And on a similar note: some time last week, my wife and I attended this presentation by William "Bill" Baker, who was the mastermind behind the tallest building in the world, the Burj Dubai (or Khalifa as it is now referred to). The talk was well delivered and not boring at all, and it made me somehow yearning structural engineering and design much more than ever! If I could only design a highrise which is 10% of the Burj! What a dream! As Baker said, "A tall building is a dream realised in steel and concrete"...so true...

In the meantime, I was working hard on my Ph.D. work, with some heavy mathematical computation work being done...obviously I will not bore anyone with describing all the stuff I am doing, but let me just say that it is quite intensive: even computers are finding it hard to keep up with the work...I was handling thousands of numbers a day, compiling data, plotting charts and interpreting results of my models and equations...I simply cannot imagine what people did back in the days when all was done by hand...God bless computers!

I think this is all I can recall from the last couple of weeks...but I think I will have a bit more to say in the upcoming post...for it will include my first trip to Malta since the wedding two months ago! Oh yes, by the way, two months already! Watch out for this space - more coming up soon!

Taken by Storm

In the previous post I hinted out that I was about to leave and engage on some "mission" and hoped that it would be successful. If you thought that I was going on some secret NASA mission to the moon, then I am afraid I am about to disappoint you. Or if you (more realistically) expected me to write about some overtime work related to my PhD and which involved me going to the MoD for some classified data on terrorism, then I suggest that you close this and proceed to Google and find some other interesting article. The mission was simple: seeking out to meet one of my idols from the music scene - Storm Thorgerson, the artist who created virtually all of the album covers from Pink Floyd and many other rock legends, including Muse and Led Zeppelin.

Last week I got an email from one of my colleagues that there is going to be an exhibition of Storm's album covers in a London art gallery. The email included a link to the event's website and, upon browsing, I realised that Storm was actually going to be at the venue on the Sunday!! After meeting Rick Wright (Floyd pianist), this was the next best "personal" link to the greatest progressive rock band of all time! So after a massive Sunday lunch, I headed off to Liverpool Street and, after a quest for an art gallery tucked away in a minor side street (a building which, in itself was also worth visiting), I walked in to meet the brains (quite literally) behind covers in the like of The dark side of the moon, Wish you were here, A momentary lapse of reason, Delicate sounds of thunder, Division bell and Pulse: pure, classic Floyd.

The girl at the desk (unnecessarily) said that, "Storm the artist was in today" and, upon the subsequent question of my Italian friend, "Where is he?", I impulsively yelled, "There he is!", as if I was talking about an acquaintance who was expected to meet me at that place and time! I spotted the man, seated leisurely behind a modest white table, sporting a Syd Barrett T-shirt (obviously), walking stick on the side, wife on the other, dog playing at his feet and a simple half-eaten lunch. I had to satisfy my initial thrill by asking Storm to take a picture with him, a request which he gladly granted. It was too good to be in the presence of a man who had so closely collaborated with the Floyd on numerous occasions, probably in the company of ashtrays with a heap of burnt out cigarettes, intentioned to fuel brainstorming debates, scribbling and album cover sketches.

The purpose of the trip, i.e., the exhibition itself was then fulfilled. A tour of the gallery which was filled with signed prints and accompanying explanatory notes by Storm himself which were completely wonderful. The insight of the artist behind each album cover, written in fluent, plain English but underlying the thoughtful concepts explored and portrayed in no 'random' or 'simple' manner totally overwhelmed me. From the simplicity and boldness of the classic Dark side prism image to the more physically challenging Momentary lapse cover with its 700 beds on a beach and the surreal Black holes and revelations cover, the genius of Storm's design-oriented mind was confirmed.

It was then time to purchase an awesome book featuring Storm's works, with full colour images and his own explanation behind the ideas portrayed. And, naturally, it was mandatory to have the book signed by the artist. In his modest, friendly way, Storm wrote a message on the first page: "To Karl, not Walter; From Malta. not Gibraltar. Storm Thorgerson, 2010": a spontaneous, simple outburst of poetry which was highly personalised and away from the usual cliches of authors but yet another unrehearsed exhibition of his creative touch. The Malta reference was added after Storm's question as to which is my home country. I incorrectly assumed that he was not aware of what/where Malta is, but Storm is quite well versed in geography as I soon discovered...

Storm said he knew all about Malta, which I thought was bluff. But then when I happened to mention that Roger did a concert in Malta back in 2006, he asked, "Was it at Valletta?" which clearly was his implicit reply, "See, I even know the name of your capital city!" And Storm likened Malta to Gibraltar in his "poem" simply to further prove that he knew Malta was an ex-colony in the Mediterranean, just like Gibraltar! I shared the memories of the magical night when Roger played the whole of Dark side in his Malta concert and then played "Wish you were here" in the memory of "all those who are no longer with us", which clearly referred to Syd Barrett who had died earlier that night but which unfortunate event had not yet been made public (presumably, Roger knew of his demise). Storm did not know this fact and retaliated by stating that he had suggested to Floyd the title "Wish you were here"...a novel fact indeed to my ears.

All in all, it was a unique experience which concluded an awesome weekend and which provided me with enough momentum to face another week of hard work, which I anticipate to be packed with partial differential equations, Laplace transforms and wave equations...but let me not infect this post with such matters!

And, by the way, the image in this post is courtesy of Luca Modenese, who quite skilfully captured me talking away and heavily exhibiting my Mediterranean tendency to make generous use of hand gestures and, at the same time, displays Storm in his split second departure from the real world whilst formulating his 'poem'.

One phant-astic weekend!

It is almost surreal to even think that there has been over a week of consistent sunshine here in London. And what more, the Icelandic volcano and the huge cloud of ash due to its eruption meant that all flights in the north of Europe were cancelled, freeing the skies en route to Heathrow from the usual air traffic noise (I can usually see/hear a plane every 60-90 seconds and this is a result of severe data gathering exercises since I have been living in this area of London!), which meant that the cloudless, blue skies were even more immaculate than usual. Mind you, temperatures did not soar beyond 17 degrees and went down to as low as 2 degrees at night, but, all in all, the weather was pleasant. This was only one of a series of great events this week...as till post will outline!

To be honest, the week started off in a somewhat crappy way...the wife was away for the weekend and I suppose it does not require much imagination to understand how a husband feels when his wife of a few weeks disappears for a few days, but this unfortunate event was quickly cut short on the Tuesday (really it was early Wednesday morning when we got back from the airport) and things resumed happily as before. I really should not provide further detail as to how the re-union was then celebrated...I bet I did get you, you filthy reader...I was referring to the fact that she brought back my 1 TB hard drive from home (which I had accidentally left behind). The hard drive which contains all of my life: 300 GB of music, another 600 GB of movies and 100 GB of pictures and random stuff. That was all, really (tongue in cheek!)

Friday, finally, and thus the weekend started. The usual trip to the pub sparked off the weekend; this week, for old times' sake, a visit to the Devonshire Arms close to our place in Kensington. And, while sipping my gin-and-tonic there, I recalled the many Sunday roasts I consumed there, which meant that somewhere in my diary I have to include a Sunday lunch at the Dev. Maybe in a few weeks' time when my dear old roomie visits from China (for this one brave dude, this will be the 2nd trip from the far east to Europe in as many months - remarkable indeed). And then Friday evening was concluded in the most chilled of ways in our cosy bed in the company of How I met your mother - I love that show!

Saturday kicked off with a brief but blissful visit to Oxford/Regent Street. Usually, I simply hate Oxford Street. Not the street per se, but the crowds, the confusion, the noise and all that kind of stuff which takes away all the pleasure from shopping. But at 9am on a Saturday, the place is virtually vacant and I could stroll down the 10m (!!!!) wide pavements leisurely, admire some decent Neo-Classical architecture and do some window shopping (I promised myself I will not subside to actual shopping this time) as I headed down to Regent Street. The Apple Store, to be precise. The motive was simple: my iPod had suddenly died and needed a post mortem. This proved to be inconclusive, which meant that the enviable customer support of Apple provided me with another iPod, at no cost. Talk about 'the customer is always right'!! Well done, Apple!

A quick lunch and the activity for Saturday afternoon: a trip to Somerset House (the Courtald Gallery, actually) and an exhibition of previously unseen Michelangelo sketches, drawings, poems and love letters to his (gay) lover from the 1500s. An extraordinary man from an extraordinary period from the past, which made me realise that, in this day and age, there are simply no people of such calibre, who can master art, sculpture, poetry, architecture and be some passionate, all at once. The event was concluded by some water antics in the piazza within Somerset House, where people must have thought I was a lunatic unleashed for an hour who happily found satisfaction in playing within the water fountain/s there. Well, I am young at heart, you know!

And, finally, the highlight of the day: a night at the theatre. This was wholly sponsored by my dear office colleagues, who, as a wedding present, gave us 2 dress circle tickets for the Love never dies musical. I had been planning to go to this from the day it was announced that (Baron) Lloyd Webber embarked on writing a sequel for his Phantom of the opera musical, which I have seen twice and still think is one of the most enchanting pieces of music in that genre. And the sequel: I tend to be super-sceptical of sequels, particularly in the world of film, but this one was simply amazing. The narrative was not a copy of the Phantom but almost a stand-alone from the original (I think the Phantom is no longer a monster while Raoul has become a modern-day alcoholic), the music and the singing were superb (albeit a few bars' worth of reference to the original music) and the scenery and imagery in the theatre was phenomenal. At some points, it was almost watching a movie rather than a stage presentation, but, at the same time, not taking away the magic of live stage production.

As always, whenever I engage in anything related to music, I tend to end up into a melancholic state of mind. I begin to ponder and ask myself why on earth am I not doing music full-time: composing, arranging, conducting, playing. It gets me shivers even writing about this, let alone be in a theatre as a spectator, let alone be in the industry as a performer! Nonetheless, unless you are a prodigy and/or extremely lucky, it is hard in this day and age to live off an "arts" profession. I once read what novelist Kurt Vonnegut wrote, "If you really want to hurt your parents and you don't have the nerve to be a homosexual, the least you can do is go into the arts". Shameful indeed, on many levels. A, there is nothing wrong with being homosexual (although I am clearly not one, I respect gays and their sexual choices) and, B, I cannot understand why one would hurt his/her parents by being in the arts. Which explains why I deliberately pointed out earlier that Michelangelo was gay, since he was both a homosexual and in the arts: his parents must have both died of strokes or heart attacks. And who would not want to be in possession of at least a fraction of Michelangelo's genius?

OK, enough said for today, partly because this is getting too philosophical and, more importantly, I have to leave for another activity, the details of which I will disclose later on, provided that the activity turns out to be as successful as I do hope it is! Summary: it was quite an eventful weekend! And I hope that it concludes even better!