Family matters

Almost 50% of my family from my dad's side is based in the U.K. and thus for most of my life I have been somewhat detached from my uncles and aunts and cousins here. Soon after my arrival here, I quickly became acquainted with all of the Micallefs here...and their off-springs.

Very recently, 2 of my (U.K.) cousins had a baby each, a boy and a girl (another in Malta had a boy). And the wife of another cousin has a boy on the way (which relieved the pressure on me to have a son in order to keep the Micallef lineage going!) and also recently found that yet another cousin is pregnant! A lot of hormones running around these days! Anyway, it was time to christen the new boy in the family and thus we headed off to Horsham yesterday for the christening ceremony of Rowan Patrick Maude.

After a marathon of hearing nothing but the wife's thesis project, it was finally a good excuse to leave the house and enjoy the rare bits of summer 2011 in the U.K. We got an early train from Victoria and headed to Sussex and to my cousin's (extremely large, at least by London standards) house and garden. Handfuls of kids running around greeted us! We headed off to the small church hosting the baptism ceremony and soon after back home for the reception.

It was a lovely sunny and warm afternoon and we lingered in the garden, eating, drinking and chatting away till the late afternoon. It was good to catch up with some many relatives and extended family members. It is funny that virtually until 2007, I can shamefully say that I barely known my cousins (let alone their spouses) but, in the last few years, I guess I met my U.K. cousins more than I met those in Malta and am now up to scratch with them too!

After one long day, at 6pm, it was time to start our commute back to London and having said goodbye and downed one final beer, we started the journey back home and ready for another week of work. Well, Marianna's final week as a student as she concludes working on her M.Sc. thesis and also my final working week for August, before I head off to Switzerland next Sunday!

Music in the park

The BBC Proms are an annual event I look forward to. This year was no exception and one particular prom grabbed my attention: film music. So on that late afternoon, Marianna paused from her thesis-ing and joined me at Imperial and soon after headed to the Royal Albert Hall, eager to experience some serious musical indulgence...

What awaited us was a 1000m long queue, snaking around the whole of Kensington Gore! This particular prom attracted more people than anticipated and the 1 hour turn up in advance proved to be insufficient. We stood there, moving slowly at 1m/min until we were almost at the box office. Perhaps 3o or 50 people before us. Then one of the polite RAH staff came out and told us that the hall is filled to its capacity and sadly we had to leave for home. A great dinner and some good red wine took away my blues.

Thus, yesterday we decided to go to yet another appealing musical event: the LSO playing live most of the soundtrack of The King's speech, a movie which we both enjoyed and whose OST is simply amazing. So we headed to the mini Manhattan of London - Canary Wharf - and assembled ourselves on the small grassy bit midst the shiny towers and devoured a packet of M&S jalapeno tortillas, enjoyed a slight breeze and while the musicians took their places.

The music itself was out of this world; nothing beats live performances and my favourite, the 2nd movement of Beethoven's 7th symphony, simply blew me away. I soon found out that this event was only one of almost a 2 month long festival of cultural events at Canary Wharf, ranging from movies, music, drama and art. In the heart of the financial and money-making district of London, a feast of cultural bonanza, all for free. The first thing I did once we got back home was subscribe to the mailing list of the organisation responsible for these events and make the most of it next year!

It is almost surreal how much effort and investment (time and money) Londoners put into setting up such activities. And, of course, I am not complaining!

The uprising

What an eventful week it was in London town! I have been in London for almost 3 and a half years now and I admit that, for the first time, I was on the verge of stating that I feel unsafe in the city...

It all started 9 days ago with a "peaceful" protest in Tottenham after the cops shot a guy there, presumably by accident. In no time, the protests spread like a flu virus to all parts of the city, initially to areas notorious for such activities, say Hackney and Camden and Brixton, and then to virtually all of London: from buzzing Oxford Circus, to busy Clapham and even peaceful Ealing, literally minutes away from our home. A spell of copy-cat behaviour led to similar riots taking place up in Manchester, Birmingham, Nottingham, where these gangs unleashed a severe spell of violence and theft from high street shops, breaking into any stores and stealing anything from bins to flat screen TVs to phones and wine.

For almost a week, all we could hear were police sirens, helicopters, fire engines and ambulances. The presence of police escalated in stations and the streets and London was transformed overnight from a busy metropolis to what seemed a scary scene in some Armageddon movie.

The night the looters headed to Ealing, we were peacefully asleep and only realised what was going on a few hundred metres away the next day via BBC and first-hand inspection of the broken shops on the Broadway and Uxbridge Road.

What amazed me most was the fact that people were filming these opportunistic idiots stealing and breaking and the police were standing right in front of them but had no right to fire on them, because of human right issues. So these have rights not to be fired on with water cannons? And the other 7 million Londoners do not have a right to feel safe in their city? At times, these Brits amaze me...

I guess these unfortunate accidents confirmed my "theory": it is not enough to have thousands of CCTV cameras all over the place (something like 1 for every 14 persons) and have footage of criminals and then no means of matching a face to a person. What is needed is real police presence on the streets, dressed in civilian clothes, ready for action and nothing else. CCTV may be deterrents but clearly they are not working.

All seems to be back to normal now, but what if this happened in a year's time during the height of the 2012 Olympics? Should they then also wait for the blessing of Cameron or the whole of Parliament or whoever to deploy some sort of retaliative measures? I hope there is no comeback by these gangs...

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.