An elegy

It was love at first sight.

I was roaming the bustling streets of Tripoli, back in the summer of 2007, away from my then girlfriend, family and usual circle of friends. Long before the days of the Libyan rebels, Tripoli was a hub of activity, particularly after sunset when the terrible heat diminishes and the inertia-laden locals start their working day. Or night. This particular night was a night to remember.

Sadly, I do not recall the exact location, but it was one of those dodgy-looking arcades with terribly cheap items and fake watches, jewellery and perfumes for sale when I caught sight of a sleek shape in the display window, a form I had long sought in Malta but failed to find. In that moment of uncertainty, I hastily went in and, less than 10 minutes later, I walked out the proud owner of that earthly thing I had spotted in the shop window which eagerly was awaiting someone to possess it. And that is how, my dear, you became mine.

From that fateful day onward, you never failed me. You accompanied me during my short stay in Libya and then you were the only one who came with me to London. You walked with me the streets of London, both willingly and when I dictated you to do so. You traveled virtually all over the U.K. with me, marveling at the architectural landmarks of the cities and the beauty of the landscape. You were there during my many quasi-daily trips to Imperial, all my exams, all my ventures to the London pubs and parties. You even flew with me to Germany during my trip to Bremen, enjoyed many a walk there with my mate, who also found you quite appealing and yet you never betrayed me.

When I started my first U.K. job, you came with me on my first day and subsequent working days, you were always there, through all the ups and downs, pub lunches and walks in the snow and rain.

Weeks, months and more than a year passed and you started showing signs of tiredness, of constant and almost abusive usage. And then came the day when the temptation was too hard to resist and I was confronted by another gorgeous pair in another display window, this time in Oxford Street, that Mecca of consumerism in Central London. And on that fateful shopping spree, thus I was introduced to my new companion, this time slightly blonder than you, old friend: my current Clark's nubuck shoes.

Thus, I bid you one final farewell, my dear Levi's beige moccassin shoes.

The Westenders

It will soon be the fourth year anniversary of my first venture to London in September 2007. Albeit I have been away from the city proper for a year (6 months in Surrey between September 2008 and March 2009 and 6 months in Malta between March and September 2009), I have always lived the entire time in west London, precisely in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. Like all things, this stay is coming to an end..

My initial arrival in London was prompted by my M.Sc. at Imperial, and thus I wished to live relatively close to the campus. By pure accident, I came across the website of a student hall a kilometre or so away from Imperial and this turned out to be such a great year. In this place, I met so many people from so many countries, cultures, ideas and ways of life. In many ways, it was a real shock, a cultural shock, albeit a very positive one. I met many people with whom I kept good contact to date and developed good, lasting relationships with many.

Masters done and completed, I found a job outside Kingston in Surrey and I had to relocate to a closer location. Thus, was my first farewell to Lee Abbey International Students' Club in Lexham Gardens. From Room 312, I moved to a flat in Ewell outside Epsom, where I lived for 6 months. A short spell back in Malta and I returned to the capital to start my Ph.D., again at Imperial.

Initially, I stayed in another student hall, also close to Imperial, literally behind Earl's Court Station. The convenience of being close to Uni was only one of the advantages of my seeking accommodation in this area. No wonder Kensington is one of London's and, indeed, Britain's most posh and expensive areas: it is clean, safe, beautiful and, although not exactly in the hustle and bustle of the city, it is still very accessible and close to all amenities.

Soon after the wedding, my wife and I both moved once more to Lee Abbey for another 15 months. It was either the fact that I was now not alone but married or the fact that I was much more familiar with London and the hall's setup, but the second stay at the hall was probably much memorable than my first. But by the start of summer, it was time to move on...

We sought a place of our own and, after a short but intensive searching process, we found a place in Ealing, further west from Earl's Court. The logistics of moving all our belongings proved to be a nightmare, but this is perhaps just my exaggeration of the task. The weekend of 9-10 July was tiring but had its fair share of fun too.

On Saturday, we went to Shakespeare's Globe for the first time and watched the play Hamlet in true Elizabethean style. It was a marvelous performance and the setting, language and costumes served as a pseudo time machine. Leaving the Globe and then seeing the City skyline, the Neo-Gothic Tower Bridge, the towering glass Shard and the sleek Millennium Bridge leading to the Neo-Classic St. Paul's once more confirmed the beauty of London's amalgamation of different eras in the city's ever-evolving lifetime.

All the "stress" associated with moving was rewarded by a sumptuous farewell dinner at a wonderful Lebanese restaurant in Notting Hill, thanks to the lovely warden and his wife and also a farewell party by the members of the Lee Abbey staff and a final beer in the local pub with our best friends from the hall, which ended a few minutes ago.

It is said that all good things come to an end, and this is true in the case of our stay in Lee Abbey. After relocating, we have not yet lived in our new place but we are flying to Malta in a few hours! Although I am very eager to going back and enjoy some sun, I also look forward to flying back to London and our new home in Ealing!

Porto!

One of the good things about doing a Ph.D. is the chance of attending international conferences. Of course, there is a substantial academic interest associated with such events: presenting your own work to a large audience, meeting other people in the field, exchanging ideas and contacts and, on a more leisurely tone, visiting a new country. I had the chance to attend one such conference last week and the host country was Portugal.

Although I had attended conferences before and presented in one too, this was my first chance during my Ph.D. to present not 1 or 2 but THREE pieces of work! Quite a baptism of fire, although it worked out quite seamlessly. Of course, a lot of preparatory work was needed beforehand to complete all the presentations and go through them with my colleagues and supervisors but, once all that was out of the way and my suitcase was packed, I made my way to Gatwick and onto a plane to Portugal's capital of the north: Porto.

It was unusually warm in London when I left but slightly warmer once I landed there. The flight was smooth and on-time and having purchased my Andante card (the equivalent of 'our' Oyster), I boarded the Metro and headed to the centre and my hotel. The first impression was very positive: very modern, clean and wide, fully air conditioned carriages which, in tram style, ventured to the centre in less than half an hour. Most of the stations were above ground and very modern, at least compared to some of London's. Once at my destination, Bolhao, I found the closest exit and out I was on Rua Sta. Caterina. I was greeted by a Baroque chapel with an exterior of white and blue tiles, which immediately grasped my attention (only to find later than virtually all churches are clad in this way!) but I had to head to the hotel since: a) I had to dispose of my luggage and b) I was starving!

And so I checked-in a lovely hotel and off I was to the main square a short walk away. The Baroque architecture was impressive even at dusk but had little time to venture around that day since I needed to get ready for the next few days of conference. These passed fairly quickly, with some interesting talks and very tasty lunches in between. In the evenings, I had to find time to explore the place.

Luckily, it was not dark until well after 9pm and thus I had most late afternoons for roaming. With a good map in hand, I headed off to the main parts of the city and was amazed by the face that Porto had many "Maltese" qualities about it. Firstly, it is a staunch Catholic society, with many Jesuses and Marys and crosses where you look. Plenty of heavily exaggerated Baroque churches with dramatic facades and impressive gold-covered interiors. The topography of the city gives it a unique quality.

The area around the Se Catedral is the starting point of a downhill trail of narrow winding streets leading down to the Rio Duoro. The narrow streets proved to be a welcome shelter from the sun's heat and the Portuguese colourful lifestyle slowly emerged in the streets. Levels overlooking spaces below, all centred around chapels and churches, children playing in the streets or bathing in fountains, old women looking out from top floor windows, groups of people chatting outside their doors, washings hanging out from windows, loud voices and omnipresent street decorations and flags are totally reminiscent of Maltese villages and old towns. The stone, the architecture, the people, the sounds and smells, all had that distinct Mediterranean feel about them, which I found fascinating, given that Porto is really more of an Atlantic place!

The Portuguese reminded me so much of my own fellow country people in many ways: unlike the Brits, no one walked up/down the escalators in stations but waited for the machinery to do the work. Queues tend to take more of a sideway alignment rather than straight. Bus drivers tend to love using their horns and stop to talk to colleagues driving in the other lane. And the strange action of one washing the pavement outside the house, which I thought was only a Maltese habit, was a familiar sight in the streets of Porto!

On one particular night, we had a banquet in one of the "Caves" on the south (or Gaia) side of the river, where all the famed warehouses making Porto's namesake product- port wine - is made. The huge barrels in the old timber roofed structures were impressive, as was the tasty food there. And, of course, port.

My 3 presentations were scheduled for the last day of the conference, after the banquet, which was challenging only because I had to be FULLY awake at 9am. All went well and on that day, I continued with my exploring. This time I headed down to the river bank, welcomed by the massive Luis I bridge, an engineering beauty, and a colourful stage of activities along the river. Old barrel vaulted spaces house restaurants, all with live music and singing, hawkers sell souvenirs and locals linger about while tourists take pictures of the river and bridge. It felt good to be in such a familiar atmosphere! I had dinner in one of the places there and after sunset lazily headed back to the hotel for a good sleep.

On the last day, I went off to a more modern area of Porto, including the Faculty of Architecture - a Modernist building which would truly inspire students therein, and the Casa da Musica. A bus ride away was one of the main beaches and its Boavista circuit and tower, where I spent most of the late morning and early afternoon. I headed back to the centre and picked my luggage and then up to the airport and back to London, slightly later than scheduled due to the inevitable delays at Gatwick.

It was a great experience in Porto, on so many levels, and I am sure that I will return to the Portuguese land and savour some more of it!