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!

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.