Malta? 'Yes', please!

After the Paris trip, I did not bother shoving up my suitcase in the limited storage space we have; I was going to fly to Malta in 2 days' time! This was no ordinary trip, on many levels. Firstly, it was to be from Heathrow and thus no need for painful mid-sleep commutes to Luton, but an easy Tube ride after getting up and having breakfast at a decent hour. Secondly, it was partly funded by the Maltese Government, a sweet 35 euro return deal. You might be asking why? The answer is simple and brings me to the next point: thirdly, I was going down to the homeland to vote in a referendum!

Since my country can afford to subsidise 1,000,000 euro worth of flights (erm, not!), whenever there is an election/referendum, the government offers cheap flights on the national airline for people abroad, like me, to get home and vote. I had done this in the 2008 election (it was Lm15, back then) and this time round I decided to go down again. Not that I was too concerned with the vote itself, but it was a good excuse to go home! The referendum concerned the much-debated divorce bill presented to Parliament a few weeks before...

I am writing this after the referendum results are out but let me assume that the outcome is not known yet. So, to date, it is only in Malta and the Philippines (and in the Vatican, of course) where divorce is not possible. I will not even start discussing this issue (I have had enough of the debates!) but what happened, in a nutshell, is that a backbencher from the (conservative) government's side presented a bill to introduce a mild divorce law in Malta. As one would imagine, this brought about a massive state of turmoil in society and although not politicised and bi-polarised as the 2003 EU referendum campaign turned out to be, this was still as amusing as ever.

Back to the trip itself...I left London at 11am, comfortably from Heathrow but not without the usual "enhanced security checks", 99.9% brought about by my beard and the Libyan visa on my passport. Talk about anti-racism and equality...anyway. The take-off was bumpy and scary (it was terribly windy) but then all was smooth and punctual; my latest book purchase The Lady Elizabeth kept me company with its Tudor-set adventures.

Once landed, I was welcomed by the heat and damp of dear old Malta. After greeting my parents and the in-laws, I headed home for a nice lunch and then a very relaxed afternoon and evening. The latter marked the end of the campaign and I thank God for that since a half day's worth of hearing debates and whatnot was more than enough!

On Friday, I headed off the my favourite place in Malta: the capital city. I made a visit to the ex City Gate site to "inspect" progress and then lingered about the busy streets and shops. By the end of morning, I had to go back home and shower! I made a short stop at my "old" Uni and met up with 2 of my lecturers for a quick chat about progress here in London and then in the evening headed back to Valletta with a friend. I made a wonderful discovery of a very chilled new location literally at the water's edge, where we enjoyed pints of Cisk, gentle breezes and ample chit-chat. And then headed home.

On Saturday, I then made a visit to another favourite place of mine: Birgu. The sun was far more unkind today and I ended up with a slight tan too. I spent the rest of the afternoon quite relaxed since my toe decided to develop a blister and it was rather painful. In the early evening, I headed off to do my civil duty (and the ultimate purpose of this trip, really!) and cast my vote. No, I will not disclose here where I marked the "X"! The evening was then concluded by the Barca-Man Utd game, which the latter lost to my great pleasure!

I kicked off Sunday earlier than most Sundays only to start following the outcome of the voting. I was not confident that the Yes vote would win or, if so, only by a small margin, thus making predictions from samples hard. But a mere hour after counting started, there were strong indications that the Yes vote had, indeed, won and by a majority of some 53%! The announcement by the Prime Minister a few minutes later meant that there was a considerable level of confidence in the statistical sampling and by lunchtime it was quite obvious that in Malta the status quo of the ruling Catholic dogma had been somewhat broken or, at best, cracked.

My flight was at 5pm and so by 3pm we headed off to the airport, with 3 bottles of Kinnie and 2 bottles of Maltese wine in the luggage and after all the goodbyes were done, I flew back to London and to my awaiting wife. It was a shame that I had not realised earlier that it was a Bank Holiday Monday, but, looking back, it was a good thing to come back and resume my work...loads to do!

And that was how my 2011 divorce referendum adventure unfolded.

Les rues des Paris - V

On Tuesday morning we packed up all our belongings and checked out from the hotel without wasting any time to maximise our last day in Paris. As the saying goes, we saved the best for last: a day trip to Versailles and a lift ride up to the summit of the Eiffel Tower.

It was a particularly warm day and the heat was kicking in by the time we got the RER train to Versailles. Once there, we had our first (and thankfully last) real experience of queueing. It took us almost an hour to buy tickets and get through the gates of the Sun King's palace, standing in the sun of course. The most ironic thing was that, with a line of several 100m, there were only 3 cashiers in the ticket office! How efficient of the French! Once past the gates, a whole new world awaited inside. I have never seen so much glamour and extravagance in my life. Louis XIV's palace is undoubtedly the finest piece of royal architecture I have seen to date and I wonder if there is anything more pompously Baroque anywhere else.

The Hall of Mirrors, the King's and Queen's chambers, the lavish use of gold as if it was whitewashing and the priceless paintings and works of art were all surpassed once we set our eyes on the gardens. Although the landscaping itself is "just" trees and shrubs, the scale is immense and, although at a masterplan level all appears to be symmetric, each section is uniquely and individually designed. The strong like of axiality finds its epitome in this vast open space. Truly, magnificent. The sound of Baroque music throughout made the experience more fitting, but it was a huge disappointment to find all fountains being turned off. It would be thrice as magical if there was water flowing and even more enchanting if synchronised with the music.

Following a quick bite in a shaded cafe in the midst of the gardens, we made our way up to the palace again by 4pm and got the train back to Champ de Mars, praying that the queue for the Eiffel Tower would be much shorter than that at Versailles. The prayers were heard since by 5pm we were in the North Pier's elevator on the way up Eiffel's Tower.

Before that day, the highest point I had ever been up to was the Tower 42 in London, a "mere" 183m which is just over half the 300m of the Eiffel Tower. Once on the top (after yet another queue on the 2nd level where we had to change lifts), all the wait and anxiety was totally worthwhile: the view was impeccable. It was a very clear day and we could see all of Paris spread out before us, almost like an architectural scale model.

We lingered around for a good 45 minutes until it was time to head back to the Gare du Nord and get the Eurostar train back to London. And thus, with 1032 photos in my camera, several blisters on my feet (which luckily collaborated greatly), tired calves and an evident suntan from the wait at Versailles, we arrived at King's Cross and eventually Earl's Court, home sweet home.

My verdict of Paris is very plain and simple: it is one of those cities which you have to visit in your life. The monuments it endorses are unique to Europe and indeed the world but the magical aura which surrounds them is somewhat depreciated by the compromised cleanliness of the streets and infrastructure. The French could spare a few thousand euros to pave their open spaces and get rid of all that dust and also use a fraction of their nuclear power to light up their capital's fountains and buildings. Perhaps it is still a time of recession in France, which gives me a good enough reason to revisit Paris in the future!

Now back in London, it is time to resume minding the gap, to keep switching from summer in the morning to autumn in the afternoon and, sadly, to get back to work.

Les rues des Paris - IV

This particular Monday was one of the few to which I woke up quite gladly: another day of Parisian exploration awaited. On today's menu: the Latin Quarter, St. Germain de Pres, La Defense and then up the Eiffel Tower at night.

Walking through the Latin Quarter stirred feelings reminiscent to those I get when visiting the tranquil ancient capital of Malta, only that this Parisian quarter proved to be more vibrant and colourful. Particularly memorable was the visit to the Shakespeare and Company bookshop, a haven for a book-lover like myself. The narrow and winding streets, lacking the overdone axiality of the rest of Paris, were too pretty and the numerous cafes and little squares added charm to this quarter associated with free thinkers and students. Talking of students, we then made our way to the Sorbonne and then to the Pantheon. The latter's size overwhelmed me much more than any of the buildings I saw in Paris so far (save for Eiffel's temporary structure, of course).

The next couple of stops were the churches of St. Germain and St. Sulpice, the latter primarily visited due to its role in The Da Vinci Code more than anything else. St. Germain was charming and was surprised to see a statue of the founder of my primary and secondary school, St. De La Salle, a Frenchman of course. The rest of the morning was devoted to exploring the tiny streets of this area of Paris until it was time for lunch: the usual super-tasty French baguette, fresh from a boulangerie in the St. Germain area and filled with delicatessen items.

Stomachs full, we headed off to the end of the Historical Axis of Paris to the modern La Defense. Although not quite as spectacular as Canary Wharf, this area was a feast of modern architecture: tall buildings, glass and less-than-expected stainless steel. The interesting elements (missing in the London Docklands) were the many sculptures, including a metal spider which my wife found mostly annoying!

From the minimalist Grande Arche, we made a quick stop at Champs Elysees and visited the Golden Triangle and all its flagship designer stores, where all price tags featured no less than 3 digits. All the day's walking made us hungry again and it was time to think of dinner. This was a return to the Marais and devouring a Jewish pitta loaded with lamb and vegetables. And falafel, of course. From the quasi ghetto area of the Marais we made our way to the Trocadero again and awaited dusk and the lighting up of the Eiffel Tower.

After we had taken our several dozen photos of the tapering tower, we decided that it was sufficiently dark to head to the summit and enjoy a bird's eye view of Paris. The queue was not that bad, but, short before we made it to the ticket office, we were told that the top is closed since it was saturated! I was about to cry! Tomorrow was the last day and there was no chance of going to the top at night! So plans were changed and we decided to go up during daytime (a choice which, in the long run, proved to be the better option).

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at the Louvre to take a few pictures of the illuminated pyramid, but sadly found that the glass structure is turned off at night. Similarly were turned off the towering structures at La Defense and, to a certain extent, also the hilltop Montmartre church. It was quite a serendipitous moment that we did not go up Eiffel at night after all since we would have failed to identify any of the landmarks!

Thus, we headed of to our hotel for the final sleep over and ready for our last day in Paris.

Les rues des Paris - III

The third day, the Sunday, was unlike the previous 2 days: the weather was grey and gloomy; I did not mention that, so far, it was bright and sunny and tending to hot. After the usual pain du chocolat, croissant and coffee for breakfast, we made our way to another contemporary architectural landmark: the Institut de Monde Arabe. This spectacular fusion of Islamic and contemporary design, another creation of the French Nouvel, proved to be another highlight of the Parisian tour. The temporary exhibition pods in its grounds, by the other giant architect Zaha Hadid, were an additional bonus.

By the time we explored the interior of the Institute, the sky was too grey for our taste and there was also a slight drizzle. Hence, we needed an internal alternative which could take up most of the day. The solution was quite straightforward: the Louvre.

I suppose it is a must for any visitor to Paris to visit the Louvre, but for a bunch of us who are into art and architecture, the Louvre, with its huge 35,000 item collection of artefacts, is a massive source of bliss. From the moment we stepped inside the Great Pyramid and descended into the void underneath the plaza, I was amazed by the sheer scale of the place and how well it has been done: the inevitable French axiality and symmetry of design, the various levels and openness of the space. Tickets and map in hand, the strategy was to tackle one floor at a time, starting off with -1 and the original fort's remains and moving up to the galleries in the upper floors.

Particularly impressive were the 2 roofed courts with various sculptures, none particularly famous but all equally wonderful. Sculpture is one of the arts which surpasses me; the genius of a sculptor who can chip off the unnecessary bits of marble to reveal the figures buried deep in the block. The main highlights for me were Michelangelo's slaves - the rebellious and the dying ones. And the never-ending list of other celebrities: Venus de Milo, the Winged Victory, the Cupid and Psyche and the Egyptian scribe.

Moving upstairs, to the paintings, it was absolutely amazing to walk down the Grand Gallery and indulge into the works of the best Renaissance and Baroque painters from Italy, including a couple of works by Leonardo and Caravaggio. An homage to Paris' most famed resident, Mrs. Gioconda, was an absolute must, though the crowds which flooded the hall took away some of the magic surrounding the persistent smile. Works by the great Delacroix and David were equally impressive, particularly my favourite of "Liberty guiding the people": absolute classic.

The tour throughout levels -1, 0 and 1 lasted until 3.30pm, by which time hunger was seriously striking and the feet were also starting to ache; that place is huge! One last item needed to be seen, one related to Malta. It was a moment of great joy and, at the same time, deep sorrow to see the sword and dagger of La Valette, which was a Prince's gift to the Grand Master after the Maltese victory over the infidels in 1565. I wonder when these will be brought back to their rightful home, the city which bears his name...

Out of the Louvre, we headed off to the first place selling food within sight, sadly a McDonalds. It was one of the few times in my life when a Big Mac tasted, erm, good. After that, we headed off to the hotel for a shower and change of clothes and then back down to the Ile de la Cite to hear Mass at none other but the Notre Dame Cathedral. It was in French, of course, and only followed the "standard" bits, but it was still quite a surprisingly pleasant time. Even better was the fact that it happened to be some celebration for bakers and, on the way out, we were greeted by French bakers who handed out samples of their tasty produce!

From the Ile, we walked up to the Marais and Pretzl area, an interesting fusion of Jewish, gay and, to a lesser extent, French cultures. Though the Jewish food places were tempting, it was a French restaurant which won. So far, I have been quite critical of cleanliness and other practical issues in Paris, but when it comes to food, the French cuisine is definitely way better than the British! I had a tasty duck pate as a started (with fresh baguette slices, of course) followed by a massive medium-rare entrecote, French style and finished off with amazing French fromage. Writing about it is making my mouth water.

The evening was concluded by a lazy walk down the Seine up to the Eiffel Tower, where we enjoyed views of the illuminated iron lacework and the hourly 5 minute display of glittering lights: the only decent exhibit of Paris living up to its name of Ville Lumiere.

Les rues des Paris - II

What I forgot to mention is that, at the end of the last day, after walking for something like 13km, my feet were complaining and unfortunately the usual blisters made their appearance, far too earlier than anticipated. Thus, on the second day, I headed off to the nearest pharmacy (in a quasi limping state!) and the Frenchman suggested buying some silicone foot pads, which probably turned out to be the best €32 spent in Paris - I could walk for another 4 days with no complaining and/or pain whatsoever!

After a quick breakfast, we started off the day in the Montmartre area, by blissfully walking up to the Sacre Coeur church, a route which I anticipated would be filled with artists but, alas, featured none. After a brief stop inside the church, we took the brave decision to walk up to the dome's summit, 200+ steps up. Probably the effort was not sufficient to burn off a bite from the earlier croissant, but it was worth it; the view was unbelievable (the plan was to see a panoramic view by day from Sacre Coeur and the night time equivalent from the Eiffel Tower, on another day). Down from the summit, we headed off to the 'red light' district surrounding the Moulin Rouge and the colourful outlets thereabout. Not as entertaining as Soho, but perhaps only because it was still morning...

From the north, we took a metro down to the centre of Paris, starting off with Arc de Triomphe and the Avenue des Champs Elysees. Yet another magnificent example of axiality, with this particular one stretching all the way from La Defense down Champs, Place de la Concorde and finally ending in the Louvre. Contrary to the first day, when we used the metro infrequently, now that the Parisian underground was being more handy, I realised that the trains were all quite old, with old-school hand-operated latches to open the doors, the stations have virtually no escalators anywhere and connections are somewhat more complex than London's. What amazed me most was the omnipresent smell of urine, both in the streets and stations and at times even on the trains. It was a relief not to consistently hear "Mind the gap" (or the French equivalent thereof) but the French have no love for health and safety at all: doors are openable when the train is still moving, the platforms do not have some bright colour to mark their edges and no usual security announcements were made. Quite different from the safety-obsessed Brits!

Back on the street: having walked down Champs Elysees, it was time to feed. We headed off to a bakery mentioned in my Lonely Planet book (Polaine) and got ourselves a modest looking but surprisingly heavy (and equally tasty) loaf which we loaded with chorizo and cheese. A taste of heaven. After lunch, we resumed our trail: Place de la Concorde, the Magdalene church, Place Vendome and the Opera, home of the famous Phantom.

From one Baroque masterpiece to another, we headed off to the jewel in the crown of Hi-Tech architecture: the Pompidou Centre. The revolutionary building by Rogers and Piano had long fascinated me and to see it for the first time was one of those moments when I feel so small, so tiny, so overwhelmed. Instances which I experienced when I saw the Lloyd's Building in London, the Corbusier villa in Stuttgart, the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, the temples of Malta.

I did not understand why the fountain in the adjacent Place Igor Stravinsky, with its colourful sculptures which are so harmonious with the coloured pipework of the Pompidou, was devoid of water and not functioning as a fountain at all. This was the second fountain which was turned off. After lingering in the Pompidou plaza in the company of a fresh milk shake, we walked southwards past the Hotel de Ville across the Seine and onto the Ile de la Cite, where another magical moment awaited...

The Cathedral of Notre Dame is one of the first buildings I learned about, so many years ago. Stepping past its threshold was like experiencing a time machine: there was the evening Mass going on and at the point of entry we were greeted by a surge on the church organ, which, combined with the smell of incense, the setting sun's light filtered through the rose window and the chants in an unknown language (it was French but equally incomprehensible as Latin, as far as I am concerned) made me feel like I was shifted back to medieval times. Simply, amazing.

However, as we headed to the rear of the cathedral to admire the daring flying buttresses supporting the apse, best viewed from the so-called Jardin Notre Dame, what we found was another expanse of dusty ground (albeit surrounded by trees). I still could not understand why most (if not all) of the best sights of Paris have to be experienced in a dirty, dusty setting. I am tempted to work out a cost estimate of paving works for these areas!

A short walk led us to the other island, the Ile St. Louis, whose embankments provided a resting place. It was nice to see a river whose colour is unlike that of the Thames: resembling that of water rather than raw sewage. From the little Parisian island, we headed to the hotel for an hour's rest and a well-needed change of clothes (from all the dust!) and then got the metro back to the Pompidou Centre; this was going to be open to the public just for this evening!

The queue was surprisingly short and soon we found ourselves on the external red-bottomed escalators as we made our way up the facade onto the top floor, from where we got a view of night-time Paris. Not exactly the Ville Lumiere I thought I would be seeing, but we got a glimpse of the shimmering Eiffel Tower. It was nonetheless a great experience to walk inside the Pompidou Centre and its structure and service free 100% usable floor space, thanks to the visionary and radical design of 2 of the 20th (and 21st!) century architectural giants.

From the square we walked again to Notre Dame, simply to admire the enchanting exterior at night time and then the last metro journey back to the hotel. It was an early night and, one bottle of red wine later, we were happily snoozing away and that was the end of our second day.

Les rues des Paris - I

It is the day after 17/05 and, as promised, here is my Paris post!

Being native to an island, the term "holiday" by default implies catching a plane and flying off to another land. Now that I am based in London, the scenario has not changed much, since, although the UK is by far much larger than Malta, it is an island nonetheless. This definition of "holiday" does not apply to my most recent trip: my first visit to France. A visit to its capital Paris, to be precise. Getting the usual northbound Piccadilly line from Earl's Court up to King's Cross and simply changing from the Tube to a Eurostar train made the journey to Paris far less painful than usual trips: no need for uncomfortable coach journeys to Stansted or Luton, the endless waiting at the departure lounge and another coach or train trip from the terminal to the city centre. The engineering marvel that is the Euro Tunnel exceeded comfort expectations. And so the journey began last Friday morning with the 7.22am train, which in almost commuter style, brought us to the Parisian Gare de Nord before mid-day.

I was amazed at the station to see that the arrival/departure boards were not digital (London-style) ones but the old-school flap models, which reminded me of my first trip ever (back in 1989) and of the opening scenes from "The terminal". Classic flick, but right then I hoped not to get stuck in the station, Hanks style. We got a carnet of 10 tickets and got the Metropolitain to the hotel. My first impression of the Parisian equivalent of 'our' Tube was that, despite being quite "younger", it looked shabbier and dirtier. Not exactly an environment which pleases someone with a slight trace of OCD like myself. Thank God for the handy alcohol gel I carried! We dropped our luggage at the unassuming yet cosy hotel in a convenient location between Montmartre and Beleville and off we went to explore Paris!

The first stop was the Canal St. Martin. En-route (excuse me for the heavy usage of French jargon, but after 5 days of not hearing/speaking English, I cannot help it!) I was amazed to see so many boulangeries and boucheries, which soon started to trigger hunger. It was also striking to see fresh water flowing out of culverts along many of the streets, presumably to clean away dirt. The French are clean, after all, I thought, but I suppose this was a case of judging a book by its cover. More later. We walked right up to the Parc des Buttes Chamont. Not the cliché tourist spot, but it was great to walk around in a green space and, thinking about it, it was the only bit of proper green which I saw, except for Versailles. We walked right up to another Parc, Belleville, which was worth visiting simply because it provided the first real Parisian view: an overall skyline boasting the twin Notre Dame towers, the Pantheon and Les Invalides domes, the unmissable coloured Pompidou and the equally unmissable Eiffel Tower. So much to see in the next 5 days!

It was a pleasant downhill walk down Rue de Belleville, for many reasons. It was getting hot and I had had enough of hills, for now. More importantly, it was like stepping outside of Europe for a while and savouring so many different cultures, all in one road. By the end of it, it was time to get a 70cm baguette from one of so many boulangeries there and French saucisson and brie to go with it. My idea of a perfect lunch.

The next stop was to pay tribute to the foremost Parisian landmark: the Eiffel Tower. Having had an interest in structures before I could probably write properly, this was one of the first engineering marvels I got to know about and I was finally about to see it, for real! Ascending from the bowels of the station, we found ourselves into a massive symmetric esplande embracing the start of a kilometre long axis from the Trocadero across the Seine to the tower itself and beyond through the Champ de Mars up to the Ecole Militaire and the end of it with another symmetrical pair near the UNESCO building. The French planners loved their axes and symmetry! I was tormented to see how many 'mute' and 'deaf' French gather in this (and other touristic areas), asking for donations. Luckily, I soon classified them as scams.

The descent down to the tower proper made me wonder what Eiffel would be thinking if he returned to see that his temporary 1889 structure is still standing and drawing so many 100s or 1000s daily. The sheer scale and yet grace of the structure is perhaps the epitome of a marriage between aesthetics and practicality, design and engineering. If only I could achieve a fraction of this in the years to come...

It was quite disappointing, though, to see that the massive fountain along the axis was not working and not even filled with water. And it was rather more disappointing to find that the Parc du Champ de Mars, which on my map featured as a massive stretch of green at the foot of the Eiffel Tower was largely patches of turf and green but with loose fill and dusty paths. An even larger expanse of dusty ground awaited at the end of the trail in front of the Ecole Militaire. This, however, took none of the glory of the Baroque masterpiece that the facade of the Military School is. French pomposity at its best. Until our trip to Versailles, that is...

A brief homage to the UNESCO building was followed by another short stop at the Musee de Quai Branly, that massive red masterpiece by Jean Nouvel, whom I had encountered a few months back in Hyde Park, when he launched his (red!) Serpentine Pavilion 2010. A short walk along the river then led to another massive Parisian landmark: Les Invalides. The distinct axiality was again evident here, with one long sightline starting with an avenue on the south, running through the complex and finishing off across the river with the Grand and Petite Palais-es. The shining golden dome of the Eglise, resting place of the little great French self-crowned Emperor who changed the world in the late 18th century, was, as expected, simply splendid.

Being so close to the Louvre, it was too tempting not to pay homage to the great glass pyramid of I.M. Pei. The route I chose was along the Seine, past the Musee D'Orsay and across the Pont Royal to the Jardin des Tuileries. The latter proved to be yet another surprise: the main approach to the grand Louvre was nothing but a wide expanse of dusty ground. How could the French not realise that it is not that expensive to pave the area?! Being intrinsically an optimist, I decided to focus more on the surrounding buildings and the happy marriage of Baroque and contemporary symmetry took away all my blues.

By this time, we had walked well over 5 hours non-stop and, in as much as I prefer to see a city on foot, we had been up since 5am and quite hungry at this point. So we took a metro up to Belleville and put down our anchors in one of the Thai places there - great food! It was then unanimously decided to head back to the hotel and get recharged for another long day tomorrow...

An eventful week!

It was quite a colourful week indeed!

Probably the biggest event was the killing of the world's most wanted man, the leader of the group Al Qaeda. Osama Bin Laden, regarded by many as the mastermind behind 9/11, was shot dead after a raid in an unassuming house in Pakistan. It is beyond the space of this post to discuss whether it was justified or right or whatever, but it brought to an end a decade-long quest by the Americans and, quite conveniently, at the start of President Obama's preparations for the 2012 elections. Am I the only one thinking of Macchiavelli?

Back home, besides all the nauseating tit-tatting in the pro/anti divorce camps, the main occurrence was the pulling down of that horrendous hole which from 1964 till 02/05/2011 served as the main entrance to our capital city. A historic moment indeed. It was a shame that I was not at home to take a snap or two to preserve the image of that monstrosity for posterity, but in this day and age, one can find 100s of images online. I am putting one here too, for the sake of completeness. I am now anxious to see the final product: the realisation of the dream of a visionary architect who will not replace the gate but will leave an open (albeit narrow) doorway inviting people to enter magical Valletta rather than keep them out.

Another demise, this time not pleasant, took place this week too. Maltese author Frans Sammut passed away, sadly. I never met the man personally (I only managed to talk to him accidentally once on the phone when I called the Sammut residence intending to contact his son) but I am sure that his legacy will live long. Rest in peace, Frans.

Oh yes, on the 1st of May I recalled when I hit a truck a stone's throw away from home and nearly died on the spot. Not a nice memory, at all.

Here in London, the weather persisted with plenty of sun and mid to high 20s, although it did rain one night. What a funny micro climate! Other than that, I was quite busy modelling 400x400x3.8mm (mild and armour) steel plates subjected to close-in blasts...bla, bla, bla...but that is my work these days. With an upcoming progress meeting next week, I have to make sure that I have new stuff to present to the funding body, rather than show them the same material again; otherwise they would have seen it so many times that they would be able to present it themselves to me.

This weekend I started my most enjoyable task of researching, studying and planning the upcoming Paris trip. Yes, Paris! By now, I almost know the map by heart and have a good grasp of the main attractions and the not-so-well-known ones which however are a must for 2 architects to visit. More on that after the 17/05!

And finally, now that AC Milan how won, they can claim this year's scudetto, which means that my dear Inter have to settle for 2nd place after winning 5 consecutive titles. Forza Inter, nonetheless!

1 kiloNewton

I have never been much of a skinny person. The only time I remember I was "thin" was when I was 4 or 5 years old, when I suffered from tonsillitis and, at times, my throat was so badly swollen that I could not eat much. Happily my tonsils were removed and from that fateful day onwards, I have gladly devoured all that was in my way...

There were a few times when I had quite a decent weight for my height, probably due to healthy eating and regular exercise. Once in the UK, I left behind my good 75kg weight to some 85kg or 90kg over 2 years, thanks to the wonderful British cuisine. Many a time I tried to say, "That's it!" and started jogging again. Post-M.Sc. times were encouraging, for I did not need to stay at home all evening, sitting down at my desk and revising and working but I could go jogging daily. So far, so good.

All changed after the wedding. I tried to illude myself that my sudden gain in weight was the often-mentioned post-marriage male surge in weight and persisted with my bad eating habits. I had made an attempt to start exercising until winter kicked in and all came to a halt. During my Christmas trip home, I found out that I weight 90kg, which was alarming. Since I do not have a scales here in London, I had to wait till Easter to weigh myself again. Thus, last week I found out that I am now 100kg. Oh my God! 1000N. 1kN. 0.1t.

Back in London, I am now strictly avoiding all English breakfasts, all puddings, all soft drinks and beer, all massive portions and all greasy SCR lunches. I am now (as of a few days ago) eating regularly small and healthy portions and jogging everyday. I started off with 2km and I hope to increase the distance and/or speed gradually.

My great hope is that my next health-related post will be my announcement of being at least back to a 2 digit weight. And being able to fit into most of my currently unusable clothing. So help me, God.