So added then 22 year old Kate Winslet immediately after her request to Leonardo di Caprio to draw her wearing a giant blue diamond necklace in the 1997 epic "Titanic". Being only 14 at the time and an all-time (RMS) Titanic aficionado (recall this), I had found this to be extremely radical, not to say sensual. However, post Sunday last, the "only" has indeed become redundant; let me explain.
It was an ordinary Tuesday aboard the 8.12am Overground to work, with 1000 commuters and the weekly "TimeOut" to keep me company. As soon as I read an article featuring what was to be London's first naked restaurant, "Bunyadi" or Hindi for 'natural', I knew that my first task at the office was to sign up on the 'waiting list'. Little did I know that that list had already accumulated some 36,000 people before me. I knew the odds of actually going were slim and, upon sharing the idea with my Mrs., it seemed to her (and myself too, really) that this was nothing more but an immense bluff call.
Until I received an email last Friday at 4.30pm that it was possible for me to book a place in the following 4 hours before the same email is sent to the 'next in line'. Within 5 minutes, I was booked after emailing my Mrs. and telling her, "Please accept the invitation below; consider this to be your birthday gift, which you have to enjoy in your birthday suit".
And Sunday evening arrived.
We knew the code of conduct: you arrive at the venue in an otherwise unmarked location (an all-black, boarded-out ex-pub but with a fancily dressed bouncer at the door off a nondescript part of Elephant and Castle), you leave your clothes and all belongings (devices and the like) in a locker and put on a gown and wait in a bar area until you are called to the dining area where you are then free to take off your gown, if you wish. And then enjoy a dinner of all-raw natural food. Served by equally (un)dressed waiters/waitresses.
The waiting bit was brief but seemed too long and when our party was called, we were escorted through a labyrinth of dark, candle-lit spaces of bamboo booths with soft jazz in the background. The temperature was just warm enough to make you want to take off the gown. Which we did once we settled in our booth (of 6 but just for the 2 of us).
The staff were very cordial and all natural (not only in dress but also in their interaction) and in no way made us feel uncomfortable, especially on our waitress's first appearance in the booth. Magical atmosphere combined with tasty food and wonderful wine is my kind of perfect ending to the weekend. The seaweed and sashimi-style salmon starter was as fresh as the ocean while the steak tartare main dish was exquisite (including the edible cutlery) and the crumble-coconut mouse-berry combo for dessert (washed down with fermented milk and raw cocoa) was the perfect finale.
The 1 hour 45 minute slot passed too quickly but we could not take off the grin off our face, even though being greeted by 'sunshine' at 8.45pm was a bit of a shock after almost 2 hours in the dark.
It is a shame that "Bunyadi" will be open for 3 months only for it would have found a very regular customer. The taboo-ist inhibitions imposed by society on society over the past 21 centuries has really taken away a great sense of freedom which unfortunately is nowadays limited only to the few so-called naturists. In this post-Brexit age, I think I am about to leave London and settle on some Caribbean island where I can have breakfast, lunch, dinner and all in between bunyadi style...
Tuesday, 5 July 2016
Wednesday, 10 December 2014
The endless river
If reincarnation was true, then I must say that in a past life, my favourite decade would have been the 1970s. The reason? It was the era of the electric guitar. Of analogue recordings. Of rock. Of progressive rock. Of Pink Floyd.
I never had the privilege of listening to a Floyd album for the first time (I was too young in the 1980s to remember any albums then and too naive in 1994 to recall "The division bell", though I do have feint memories of "Pulse" coming out and listening to it in surround sound at a friend's house...). In an attempt, futile as it might be, to recreate this feeling, as soon as I heard that the Floyd are releasing a new album, the 1st in 20 years - and their last - I was determined to get it and listen to it from beginning to end in its entirety as soon as I get it, resisting the various posts on social media of previews and samples and what not. And so I did. This is a rather overdue review of mine of "The endless river".
No album after the likes of, say, "Dark side" or "Wish you were here" can really be deemed revolutionary. However, the album is really a throwback to the authentic Floyd sound, an endless (so to speak) instrumental song, at times with too much effort in making it sound seamless, with only a single vocal track. Many parts are reminiscent of earlier material. "It's what we do" can be considered to be a re-make of "Shine on, you crazy diamond", or maybe its Part X, notably its time and occasional 4-note motifs. The closing 2 chords in "The lost art of communication" strongly remind me of the amazing equivalent in "Breathe". The references to "The division bell" are obvious in "Talkin' Hawkin'" with the scientist's interventions and with the bells at the start of "Louder than words". I also think "Allons-y" is somewhat a reminder of "Run like hell"; I should stop here with comparisons since this might be getting overboard.
Intertwined between the first part of "Allons-y" and its reprise part is a magical sequence on the Royal Albert Hall's majestic organ. Not knowing this is rock, I would say this is an extract from a requiem mass, one which Wright wrote for himself 40 years before his demise and which Gilmour, in one final struggle to create a counterpoint-style play between keyboard and guitar (although not as successful as the one in "Echoes" or, more recently, in "Cluster one"), created 6 years later after Wright's death in this tribute record.
Indeed, this is the album of Wright, the often-underestimated Floyd genius (and stating this objectively, despite my status as a keyboard player). True, Wright's masterpieces remain "The great gig in the sky" and "Us and them" but what hidden secrets are found in this new album. I simply love the seductive sound qualities of "On Noodle Street". Ironically, "Anisina", one of my favourite tracks, is one of the few which does not feature Wright!
And, being the only non-surviving Floyd member, it was fitting that Gilmour, as the 'image' of 21st century Pink Floyd compiled this album as an elegy for Wright. Early Floyd was characterised by Syd, then it was Roger's era, followed by Gilmour when Roger left and, finally, this is Wright's masterpiece (and, in a way, Mason's with his drum solo in "Skins").
Perhaps one of the biggest disappointments is the final track, which would have been better left an instrumental piece concluding the career of one of the greatest bands of all time. The disappointment is probably overshadowed by the album art - the lack of Storm's contribution is clear. However, I did like the 'book' quality of the album sleeve (but not quite the innovation of the blinking LED cover of the album's older brother).
In no way is this a negative air to end this short review. All in all, it was a great experience to sit and listen to a brand new Floyd album, uninterrupted. I can only extrapolate this feeling and think to myself: wouldn't it have been awesome to be around in March 1973 and listen for the first time ever "The dark side of the moon"? But, in a bit of a massive Floydian slip, all I can say is, if pigs might fly...
I never had the privilege of listening to a Floyd album for the first time (I was too young in the 1980s to remember any albums then and too naive in 1994 to recall "The division bell", though I do have feint memories of "Pulse" coming out and listening to it in surround sound at a friend's house...). In an attempt, futile as it might be, to recreate this feeling, as soon as I heard that the Floyd are releasing a new album, the 1st in 20 years - and their last - I was determined to get it and listen to it from beginning to end in its entirety as soon as I get it, resisting the various posts on social media of previews and samples and what not. And so I did. This is a rather overdue review of mine of "The endless river".
No album after the likes of, say, "Dark side" or "Wish you were here" can really be deemed revolutionary. However, the album is really a throwback to the authentic Floyd sound, an endless (so to speak) instrumental song, at times with too much effort in making it sound seamless, with only a single vocal track. Many parts are reminiscent of earlier material. "It's what we do" can be considered to be a re-make of "Shine on, you crazy diamond", or maybe its Part X, notably its time and occasional 4-note motifs. The closing 2 chords in "The lost art of communication" strongly remind me of the amazing equivalent in "Breathe". The references to "The division bell" are obvious in "Talkin' Hawkin'" with the scientist's interventions and with the bells at the start of "Louder than words". I also think "Allons-y" is somewhat a reminder of "Run like hell"; I should stop here with comparisons since this might be getting overboard.
Intertwined between the first part of "Allons-y" and its reprise part is a magical sequence on the Royal Albert Hall's majestic organ. Not knowing this is rock, I would say this is an extract from a requiem mass, one which Wright wrote for himself 40 years before his demise and which Gilmour, in one final struggle to create a counterpoint-style play between keyboard and guitar (although not as successful as the one in "Echoes" or, more recently, in "Cluster one"), created 6 years later after Wright's death in this tribute record.
Indeed, this is the album of Wright, the often-underestimated Floyd genius (and stating this objectively, despite my status as a keyboard player). True, Wright's masterpieces remain "The great gig in the sky" and "Us and them" but what hidden secrets are found in this new album. I simply love the seductive sound qualities of "On Noodle Street". Ironically, "Anisina", one of my favourite tracks, is one of the few which does not feature Wright!
And, being the only non-surviving Floyd member, it was fitting that Gilmour, as the 'image' of 21st century Pink Floyd compiled this album as an elegy for Wright. Early Floyd was characterised by Syd, then it was Roger's era, followed by Gilmour when Roger left and, finally, this is Wright's masterpiece (and, in a way, Mason's with his drum solo in "Skins").
Perhaps one of the biggest disappointments is the final track, which would have been better left an instrumental piece concluding the career of one of the greatest bands of all time. The disappointment is probably overshadowed by the album art - the lack of Storm's contribution is clear. However, I did like the 'book' quality of the album sleeve (but not quite the innovation of the blinking LED cover of the album's older brother).
In no way is this a negative air to end this short review. All in all, it was a great experience to sit and listen to a brand new Floyd album, uninterrupted. I can only extrapolate this feeling and think to myself: wouldn't it have been awesome to be around in March 1973 and listen for the first time ever "The dark side of the moon"? But, in a bit of a massive Floydian slip, all I can say is, if pigs might fly...
Saturday, 27 September 2014
Happy anniversaries
Any Maltese of good sense would know that this year was a special one when it comes to anniversaries. I am writing this less than a week after I 'celebrated' or rather remembered one of my own personal anniversaries, i.e., my first move to London back on 22/09/2007. Seven years. Some say seven is a perfect number; perhaps it is true since, like my 1st year here, this year was truly one where everyday was one to look forward to. But really the aim here was to reminisce on the sort of anniversaries I hinted earlier: the 10th year since Malta joined the EU, the 35th year since Malta no longer served as a military base for any foreign power, the 40th year of Malta's declaration as a republic and the 50th year of Malta's independence.
With only one of these celebrations left, I thought it was a good time to record some of my thoughts at this point, in a time sandwiched between what I think are the 2 worthy of being Malta's national days. One, the establishment of a Maltese head of state, is the culmination of the establishment of a sovereign state, but the former could not have happened if the latter was not already in place; the others were then somewhat circumstantial occurrences which invariably had to happen over time.
Writing this a week or so later after Scotland rejected its call for independence from the UK in a referendum made me wonder even more how a country such as Scotland, with countless natural resources (including oil, gas and, erm - why not - whiskey) could not be bold enough to take a leap and disrupt any reliance or affiliation with another country, even after 300 years, but then a tiny island-nation with no resources of its own, except its people, who was never a ruler but always ruled since the dawn of time, who always relied on external aid, could then make this leap forward half a century ago after a devastating war and at the brink of a nuclear war? And what more, a move endorsed by all major political leaders at the time, settled all amicably and peacefully with no bloodshed whatsoever. And then move on to become a thriving economy, exploiting its rich history and heritage (ironically furnished by all its past subsequent rulers) to create a tourist industry and a manufacturing industry but also being able to read clearly the signs of the age, when manufacturing fled to the far east and instead diversified into freight-less and non-manual ventures but into those requiring 'solely' intellect, IT and so on. An island state which is a success story, with one of the lowest unemployment rates in Europe, which had the 2nd strongest currency in the world prior to joining the Eurozone in 2008, with a health system ranked 5th best in the world and free education to all.
It was a journey at times full of controversy and irony.
The fiery Mintoff changed political direction from integration with Britain in the 1950s to fully-fetched independence in the 1960s, being the first to propose the "Break with Britain Resolution" in Parliament, seconded by pragmatic Borg Olivier. The latter, after obtaining independence, then voted against the establishment of a republic, which in my mind would have represented the ultimate nationalist achievement.
Mintoff, whose political roots were probably established during his time in Britain whilst studying in Oxford in the late 1930s, possibly exposed to Fabianism and as an external observer of the relatively thriving social services and conditions in the UK which he must have longed for to have introduced in Malta (which he eventually did, and more), was then so ardent in getting 'rid' of the British.
Borg Olivier, the prime minister who ultimately negotiated the independence constitution, was arguably elected because of the Church's involvement in the 1962 election which effectively limited the odds of Mintoff's election into government to the slimmest possible, but then had to face a Church which was utterly against independence.
And a few decades later during the EU saga, it was the conservative party, still carrying the label 'nationalist', was pro-EU, whereas other leaders of the right strongly became Euro-sceptics. On the other hand, the labour party, the long-time apt voice of workers who would benefit strongly from such an open market as is the EU, failed to join all the other European left wing thinkers and politicians who tend to be in favour of the EU (even if, at times, this tends to be not really in line with socialist principles, but that is the game of politics for you).
And then the conservative party led by a devout Catholic presumably not amused by consumerism and liberalism, who viciously sought to have a free market and removing all importation embargoes and advocating free-for-all access to the capitalist frame of mind in the late 1980s, after having fought for and acquired EU accession, was most certainly overwhelmed by a transformation into a society with changing values, importing via media and the Internet and adopting an extensive liberal ideology, leading to introduction of civil rights such as divorce and civil unions, including for LGBT couples, and rightly so.
And in another twist of irony, the strongest voice opposing the EU a decade ago is today one of the 6 MEPs in Brussels.
A country of contradiction. A country often of political complexities, even if unnecessary at times. But nonetheless a country of success and economic progress and which has been in the international limelight for different reasons in every decade of its first half a century of sovereignty, aiding in the advancement of the world itself. Malta proposed to the UN measures to safeguard the oceans in the late 1960s. Malta advocated the idea of including a chapter on security in the Mediterranean as part of the Helsinki Accords in the 1970s. Malta hosted the Bush-Gorbachev summit in the 1980s, effectively ending the Cold War. Malta's Guido DeMarco was President of the UN's General Council in the 1990s. Malta was instrumental in helping the West handle the Libyan crisis a few years ago.
Each of these tasks and achievements is totally incommensurate with the size of this country.
I proudly look forward to be participant in the greater part of the next 50 years of this country's journey and, who knows, maybe at 81 also celebrate the first centenary of Malta, an independent sovereign state.
With only one of these celebrations left, I thought it was a good time to record some of my thoughts at this point, in a time sandwiched between what I think are the 2 worthy of being Malta's national days. One, the establishment of a Maltese head of state, is the culmination of the establishment of a sovereign state, but the former could not have happened if the latter was not already in place; the others were then somewhat circumstantial occurrences which invariably had to happen over time.
Writing this a week or so later after Scotland rejected its call for independence from the UK in a referendum made me wonder even more how a country such as Scotland, with countless natural resources (including oil, gas and, erm - why not - whiskey) could not be bold enough to take a leap and disrupt any reliance or affiliation with another country, even after 300 years, but then a tiny island-nation with no resources of its own, except its people, who was never a ruler but always ruled since the dawn of time, who always relied on external aid, could then make this leap forward half a century ago after a devastating war and at the brink of a nuclear war? And what more, a move endorsed by all major political leaders at the time, settled all amicably and peacefully with no bloodshed whatsoever. And then move on to become a thriving economy, exploiting its rich history and heritage (ironically furnished by all its past subsequent rulers) to create a tourist industry and a manufacturing industry but also being able to read clearly the signs of the age, when manufacturing fled to the far east and instead diversified into freight-less and non-manual ventures but into those requiring 'solely' intellect, IT and so on. An island state which is a success story, with one of the lowest unemployment rates in Europe, which had the 2nd strongest currency in the world prior to joining the Eurozone in 2008, with a health system ranked 5th best in the world and free education to all.
It was a journey at times full of controversy and irony.
The fiery Mintoff changed political direction from integration with Britain in the 1950s to fully-fetched independence in the 1960s, being the first to propose the "Break with Britain Resolution" in Parliament, seconded by pragmatic Borg Olivier. The latter, after obtaining independence, then voted against the establishment of a republic, which in my mind would have represented the ultimate nationalist achievement.
Mintoff, whose political roots were probably established during his time in Britain whilst studying in Oxford in the late 1930s, possibly exposed to Fabianism and as an external observer of the relatively thriving social services and conditions in the UK which he must have longed for to have introduced in Malta (which he eventually did, and more), was then so ardent in getting 'rid' of the British.
Borg Olivier, the prime minister who ultimately negotiated the independence constitution, was arguably elected because of the Church's involvement in the 1962 election which effectively limited the odds of Mintoff's election into government to the slimmest possible, but then had to face a Church which was utterly against independence.
And a few decades later during the EU saga, it was the conservative party, still carrying the label 'nationalist', was pro-EU, whereas other leaders of the right strongly became Euro-sceptics. On the other hand, the labour party, the long-time apt voice of workers who would benefit strongly from such an open market as is the EU, failed to join all the other European left wing thinkers and politicians who tend to be in favour of the EU (even if, at times, this tends to be not really in line with socialist principles, but that is the game of politics for you).
And then the conservative party led by a devout Catholic presumably not amused by consumerism and liberalism, who viciously sought to have a free market and removing all importation embargoes and advocating free-for-all access to the capitalist frame of mind in the late 1980s, after having fought for and acquired EU accession, was most certainly overwhelmed by a transformation into a society with changing values, importing via media and the Internet and adopting an extensive liberal ideology, leading to introduction of civil rights such as divorce and civil unions, including for LGBT couples, and rightly so.
And in another twist of irony, the strongest voice opposing the EU a decade ago is today one of the 6 MEPs in Brussels.
A country of contradiction. A country often of political complexities, even if unnecessary at times. But nonetheless a country of success and economic progress and which has been in the international limelight for different reasons in every decade of its first half a century of sovereignty, aiding in the advancement of the world itself. Malta proposed to the UN measures to safeguard the oceans in the late 1960s. Malta advocated the idea of including a chapter on security in the Mediterranean as part of the Helsinki Accords in the 1970s. Malta hosted the Bush-Gorbachev summit in the 1980s, effectively ending the Cold War. Malta's Guido DeMarco was President of the UN's General Council in the 1990s. Malta was instrumental in helping the West handle the Libyan crisis a few years ago.
Each of these tasks and achievements is totally incommensurate with the size of this country.
I proudly look forward to be participant in the greater part of the next 50 years of this country's journey and, who knows, maybe at 81 also celebrate the first centenary of Malta, an independent sovereign state.
Thursday, 25 September 2014
An eventful weekend in the land of Veneto
Whilst Scotland were busy debating and voting on whether the country should stay forming part of the UK or not (which they ultimately did choose to hang on to it) and Malta was rather ironically busy preparing to celebrate its 50th anniversary of independence from the UK, we were busy making our way to Gatwick airport at 2am, in the midst of a freak 10 minute thunderstorm which was promptly timed with our exit from home. I just realised that I rather abused the word busy here, but in fairness each of these activities does indeed deserve the title. And it turned out to be an ever busier weekend...
The trip to Italy was prompted by the invitation to a wedding of 2 Italian friends of ours - one of the great things about London is that most of your friends are actually not British and you invariably participate in such events all the time. Admittedly, I had been to this part of Italy a number of times, and my wife likewise (have both been to Venice alone 3 times each), but alas never together and have been there already had its advantage: it was to be a rather chilled holiday, not racing against time and trying to see every bit of the city but immersing in the city's life and enjoying every moment. Or actually not having to visit only the obvious sites but stay off the beaten track and discover some of the hidden gems the city has to offer (and this particular city has a lot to offer). Having said that, visiting Venice is always an enchanting experience and I must say, even in the light of my limited world travels, it must be my favourite place in the world. And it is one of those unique places where the city was formed centuries ago and, contrary to other cities, largely stayed as it was then due to its obvious physical constraints. Each building, each stone (I was going to write each street but..) and each canal has a story to tell. Few cities have the honour of being frozen in time (Valletta is another case in point, but lingering on this point would be a tangent).
The stay was brief but quality reigned over quantity (having an SLR in Venice for the first time was a bonus) and we then moved onto the mainland just outside Padova in another of the Veneto's unknown secrets, Montegrotto Terme, where the wedding was to be held. A thermal spa resort, housed in a superb Art Nouveau 1920s building, complete with lift in a cage and iron post beds but immaculately kept and with 7000 odd square metres of pools, jacuzzi and all the other well being perks and treats which I never experienced before. It amazes me how the Romans were able to develop such commodities and leave us all the architectural and cultural heritage but, at the same time, be so barbaric: crucifying thousands daily, feeding men to lions for their entertainment and so on...keeping to a positive note, they were truly 2 days of refreshment, which I wish I had the chance to enjoy in more troublesome times...
The wedding itself was splendid: good food, good wine and good fun, concluded by night-time swims in the heated waters! One minor detail was that every evening was characterised by distant thunder and lightning displays, whicn we nonetheless ignored, given that they were too far even to be heard. I even thought them to be quite spectacular!
Come the last day and we headed back to Venice for a last half day of sightseeing under a very strong sun. As soon as we landed in the airport terminal, the sky turned black and an intense thunderstorm kicked off, with all vengeance. It was slightly worrying knowing we were flying in 2 hours' time given my phobia of take-off and so on; the flight was invariably delayed. We soon found out that the plane was diverted to Bologna, 20 minutes away. After a quick bite and 2 hours waiting, we were told that the plane was on its way to our airport, which was a relief. More reassuring was knowing it landed - safely - and that the rain had stopped. But soon a saga kicked off. The staff said there were no coaches to take us from the gate to the plane, a few metres away, but against security to let passengers walk on the runway (because at times the Italians really know their legal obligations). Then there was no staff to unload luggage and load the new luggage (which I guess was limited anyway, given it was an easyjet flight). And then, most importantly, there was no staff to refuel the plane. It was the end of the staff shift, we were told, and because some few people did not do an extra half hour worth of work, a plane-full of people had to wait overnight till the plane could take off the next day. In the next available slot, i.e., the next afternoon, or 17 hours later to be precise.
No café or restaurant was open at that hour and no hotel was available to accommodate us, albeit the offer to seek accommodation which would be refunded. We "slept" on the seats in the gates, which were surprisingly plentiful, only till the sun rose at 6am or so and the scheduled flights kicked off with the usual persistent accompanying announcements and movement of people, making any sort of attempts to sleep impossible.
To cut a story short, we boarded at 12.40pm, a flight which was scheduled at 9.45pm the night before, having slept 9 hours in total in the previous 2 days (I forgot to mention the wedding ended at 2am or so and we were up by 9am for breakfast). Just to add insult to injury, there were minor problems with the trains between the south and London, meaning we got home at 5pm or so, exhausted and with just one desire: sleep in a bed.
At the end, it was the best flight of my life: I never was as excited to get on a plane as that day, perhaps only more in September 1989 when I flew for the first time. Or perhaps in September 2007 when I moved to London for the first time (incidentally it was my 7th anniversary of moving to London). After a good sleep of 11 hours, it was back to work and then catching up with the celebrations in the homeland, which made me feel proud to be Maltese and grateful that the generations of the past wisely chose better than the Scots to seek independece from a then dying superpower, diversing the island nation's economy from solely based on foreign military activity to a thriving one that it is today. But this is another story...
The trip to Italy was prompted by the invitation to a wedding of 2 Italian friends of ours - one of the great things about London is that most of your friends are actually not British and you invariably participate in such events all the time. Admittedly, I had been to this part of Italy a number of times, and my wife likewise (have both been to Venice alone 3 times each), but alas never together and have been there already had its advantage: it was to be a rather chilled holiday, not racing against time and trying to see every bit of the city but immersing in the city's life and enjoying every moment. Or actually not having to visit only the obvious sites but stay off the beaten track and discover some of the hidden gems the city has to offer (and this particular city has a lot to offer). Having said that, visiting Venice is always an enchanting experience and I must say, even in the light of my limited world travels, it must be my favourite place in the world. And it is one of those unique places where the city was formed centuries ago and, contrary to other cities, largely stayed as it was then due to its obvious physical constraints. Each building, each stone (I was going to write each street but..) and each canal has a story to tell. Few cities have the honour of being frozen in time (Valletta is another case in point, but lingering on this point would be a tangent).
The stay was brief but quality reigned over quantity (having an SLR in Venice for the first time was a bonus) and we then moved onto the mainland just outside Padova in another of the Veneto's unknown secrets, Montegrotto Terme, where the wedding was to be held. A thermal spa resort, housed in a superb Art Nouveau 1920s building, complete with lift in a cage and iron post beds but immaculately kept and with 7000 odd square metres of pools, jacuzzi and all the other well being perks and treats which I never experienced before. It amazes me how the Romans were able to develop such commodities and leave us all the architectural and cultural heritage but, at the same time, be so barbaric: crucifying thousands daily, feeding men to lions for their entertainment and so on...keeping to a positive note, they were truly 2 days of refreshment, which I wish I had the chance to enjoy in more troublesome times...
The wedding itself was splendid: good food, good wine and good fun, concluded by night-time swims in the heated waters! One minor detail was that every evening was characterised by distant thunder and lightning displays, whicn we nonetheless ignored, given that they were too far even to be heard. I even thought them to be quite spectacular!
Come the last day and we headed back to Venice for a last half day of sightseeing under a very strong sun. As soon as we landed in the airport terminal, the sky turned black and an intense thunderstorm kicked off, with all vengeance. It was slightly worrying knowing we were flying in 2 hours' time given my phobia of take-off and so on; the flight was invariably delayed. We soon found out that the plane was diverted to Bologna, 20 minutes away. After a quick bite and 2 hours waiting, we were told that the plane was on its way to our airport, which was a relief. More reassuring was knowing it landed - safely - and that the rain had stopped. But soon a saga kicked off. The staff said there were no coaches to take us from the gate to the plane, a few metres away, but against security to let passengers walk on the runway (because at times the Italians really know their legal obligations). Then there was no staff to unload luggage and load the new luggage (which I guess was limited anyway, given it was an easyjet flight). And then, most importantly, there was no staff to refuel the plane. It was the end of the staff shift, we were told, and because some few people did not do an extra half hour worth of work, a plane-full of people had to wait overnight till the plane could take off the next day. In the next available slot, i.e., the next afternoon, or 17 hours later to be precise.
No café or restaurant was open at that hour and no hotel was available to accommodate us, albeit the offer to seek accommodation which would be refunded. We "slept" on the seats in the gates, which were surprisingly plentiful, only till the sun rose at 6am or so and the scheduled flights kicked off with the usual persistent accompanying announcements and movement of people, making any sort of attempts to sleep impossible.
To cut a story short, we boarded at 12.40pm, a flight which was scheduled at 9.45pm the night before, having slept 9 hours in total in the previous 2 days (I forgot to mention the wedding ended at 2am or so and we were up by 9am for breakfast). Just to add insult to injury, there were minor problems with the trains between the south and London, meaning we got home at 5pm or so, exhausted and with just one desire: sleep in a bed.
At the end, it was the best flight of my life: I never was as excited to get on a plane as that day, perhaps only more in September 1989 when I flew for the first time. Or perhaps in September 2007 when I moved to London for the first time (incidentally it was my 7th anniversary of moving to London). After a good sleep of 11 hours, it was back to work and then catching up with the celebrations in the homeland, which made me feel proud to be Maltese and grateful that the generations of the past wisely chose better than the Scots to seek independece from a then dying superpower, diversing the island nation's economy from solely based on foreign military activity to a thriving one that it is today. But this is another story...
Tuesday, 11 February 2014
Snow and sun in Salzburgerland
I just realised that this is the first post for 2014, which is now in its 42nd day (already). There is one good reason (actually more than one) for not writing earlier: extremely busy Monday-Fridays with no inclination to spend a few minutes in front of a monitor in the evening and equally packed weekends in a row. Necessity is the mother of invention, though and thus now that the 1st escape from London for the new year took place, here I am with my bulletin on the trip to Salzburg.
It was a rather serendipitous trip courtesy of British Airways - well, partially - after they hassled us during our trip to Amsterdam and rewarded us with a welcome flight voucher (have not mentioned that one before, have I?) and which we redeemed to pay tribute to the Austrian city famed more than anything else for its son Mozart. An obvious interest for me, although I admittedly admire Beethoven slightly more. But not today...
The initial reaction after booking flights was: Austria? Mountains? Winter? Given that I am not into skiing and such perilous activities. But further reading made it obvious that the city had more to offer than copious mountains with skiing pistes and Mozart. The latter inevitably had to feature on the trail and on the first day, after ascending* up the 1853m high Untersberg and down, visited his birthplace. And the family's residence the next day. And a magical concert of 2 of his piano sonatas and a fantasia in a beautiful Romanesque hall.
We did venture slightly out of the Salzburg city centre for half a day to visit the salt mines in Hallein and also the Stiegl brewery, where we left with a surplus of beer which was happily consumed on the Saturday night. Oh yes, the beer. Superb. And the food - everything revolves around meat: sausages, schnitzels and goulash.
After my non-exhaustive travels around Europe, I guess I know what the recipe for a European city is: a river with a few bridges across, a cathedral or two, one main square, palaces, museums and the hill-top castle. Indeed, all featured in Salzburg, but every time I go to a new city, there is some unique facet to the combination of these elements; truly the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. And the beauty of Salzburg undoubtedly played a key element to inspire the young Amadeus. Plus some twist of fate and a good gene or two.
*In a cable car, needless to say
It was a rather serendipitous trip courtesy of British Airways - well, partially - after they hassled us during our trip to Amsterdam and rewarded us with a welcome flight voucher (have not mentioned that one before, have I?) and which we redeemed to pay tribute to the Austrian city famed more than anything else for its son Mozart. An obvious interest for me, although I admittedly admire Beethoven slightly more. But not today...
The initial reaction after booking flights was: Austria? Mountains? Winter? Given that I am not into skiing and such perilous activities. But further reading made it obvious that the city had more to offer than copious mountains with skiing pistes and Mozart. The latter inevitably had to feature on the trail and on the first day, after ascending* up the 1853m high Untersberg and down, visited his birthplace. And the family's residence the next day. And a magical concert of 2 of his piano sonatas and a fantasia in a beautiful Romanesque hall.
We did venture slightly out of the Salzburg city centre for half a day to visit the salt mines in Hallein and also the Stiegl brewery, where we left with a surplus of beer which was happily consumed on the Saturday night. Oh yes, the beer. Superb. And the food - everything revolves around meat: sausages, schnitzels and goulash.
After my non-exhaustive travels around Europe, I guess I know what the recipe for a European city is: a river with a few bridges across, a cathedral or two, one main square, palaces, museums and the hill-top castle. Indeed, all featured in Salzburg, but every time I go to a new city, there is some unique facet to the combination of these elements; truly the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. And the beauty of Salzburg undoubtedly played a key element to inspire the young Amadeus. Plus some twist of fate and a good gene or two.
*In a cable car, needless to say
Sunday, 17 November 2013
How much does your company pay, Mr. Foster?
I could probably competently answer the original form of the question of which the title above is a parody; the structural engineer's task is more often than not aimed at designing buildings to carry weight and making their own weight as minimal as possible, but I am not turning this into an academic exercise of sorts. It is a mere reflection on my new role at F+P just before I start my 7th week there (since, you know, 7 is the perfect number).
Sometimes it still feel surreal that I actually work within the studio of one of the architectural superstars of the 20th and even now the 21st century (albeit that Lord Foster himself is apparently very rarely in London let alone in the office). In my undergrad days, I would flip through books, magazines and the net looking at Foster buildings for inspiration and even now that those days are long gone, the inspiration is surely a perpetual one. After the last troubling years in academia, I am finally back to working in the real world, designing real buildings and all with the added advantage of being in one of the most exciting workplaces for any architect and/or engineer. Starting a new day is something I look forward to (minus the waking up bit, of course) and even walking around the offices past all the models, pin-ups and drawings and sketches stuck to the magnetic walls and sometimes taped to the glazed external walls is inspiring. A quasi communist atmosphere dominates the office - senior partner, intern and all are treated equally, their opinion valued and respected and everyone is on a first name basis where the only formality lies in the quality of the work produced. That, in itself, is impressive, where even mere 'work in progress' type material for internal meetings is of supreme presentation calibre and no expense really is spared.
Speaking of expense, the payment I referred to in the title is beyond the financial one. I am not much of a money fan but the real value I am getting from my job probably has no price tag: the experience and privilege gained from working in such a dynamic studio. In my undergrad days, I would look at the Commerzbank or the Sainsbury Centre or the then newly built Gherkin in magazines and yearn to visit them. In my postgrad days, I would walk around the City and see the buildings for real and recall peeping inside the Riverside studios, where all the magic happens. Nowadays, I am a sorcerer's apprentice myself and I am part of the 1000-odd strong team of wizards who create the wonders which dominate the London skylines and beyond.
Sometimes it still feel surreal that I actually work within the studio of one of the architectural superstars of the 20th and even now the 21st century (albeit that Lord Foster himself is apparently very rarely in London let alone in the office). In my undergrad days, I would flip through books, magazines and the net looking at Foster buildings for inspiration and even now that those days are long gone, the inspiration is surely a perpetual one. After the last troubling years in academia, I am finally back to working in the real world, designing real buildings and all with the added advantage of being in one of the most exciting workplaces for any architect and/or engineer. Starting a new day is something I look forward to (minus the waking up bit, of course) and even walking around the offices past all the models, pin-ups and drawings and sketches stuck to the magnetic walls and sometimes taped to the glazed external walls is inspiring. A quasi communist atmosphere dominates the office - senior partner, intern and all are treated equally, their opinion valued and respected and everyone is on a first name basis where the only formality lies in the quality of the work produced. That, in itself, is impressive, where even mere 'work in progress' type material for internal meetings is of supreme presentation calibre and no expense really is spared.
Speaking of expense, the payment I referred to in the title is beyond the financial one. I am not much of a money fan but the real value I am getting from my job probably has no price tag: the experience and privilege gained from working in such a dynamic studio. In my undergrad days, I would look at the Commerzbank or the Sainsbury Centre or the then newly built Gherkin in magazines and yearn to visit them. In my postgrad days, I would walk around the City and see the buildings for real and recall peeping inside the Riverside studios, where all the magic happens. Nowadays, I am a sorcerer's apprentice myself and I am part of the 1000-odd strong team of wizards who create the wonders which dominate the London skylines and beyond.
Wednesday, 25 September 2013
Reflections of my life
So sang The Marmalade some 40 years ago when I was mere, erm, dust (in the religious interpretation of the word). Of course, I am fond of all the rock music from the 70s but I did not choose this title as a tribute to the golden age of the genre - I borrowed it simply because this is what I will do here, as I near my 30th birthday.
Probably 1 of these landmark years which truly marks the transition into adulthood. Not that 20 does not fall in the adult realm but I would say that being legally recognised as an adult - i.e., with the right to vote, drink and drive (what joys) - does not imply the degree of maturity society expects from adults. Especially in the context of being an undergraduate student, even in a relatively conservative university environment like Malta, where condom machines are not permitted and where there is virtually no need for students to 'leave home' and experience independent student living away from their childhood cocoon.
Probably life's biggest lessons which I have learnt so far were triggered by the fact that I have lived the greatest part of the last 6 years - my God, thinking about it is scary - in London, where for the first time I experienced the above: away from the comfort of home, having to worry about shopping and feeding and cleaning and other household aches, away from the luxury of a car at my doorstep and having to travel in a city which is several times bigger than my entire native country and striving to harmoniously live with people from 101 diverse backgrounds, cultures and ways of living which are acceptable in their own view but not necessarily in mine. Where else would have this been possible? Fair enough, any other major metropolis, say NYC, but Malta? Not in a million years. Unless the Mediterranean dries up and the Maltese landmass increases by some 1000% and suddenly not only North Africans but people of all nations 'move in'.
From what started off as a 12 month stay ended up being extended to a 3 year one and, in the meantime, it was no longer me but two of us here, hence the additional 2 years appended to the original 3. Ironically, these 2 years might actually prove to be the most exciting of the lot, given that I am finally free from any formal schooling (about time, too) and with a new promising job in the pipeline. But that is another story...the story here is a hi-story one and an egocentric one at that, where the subject is, quite simply, me.
What happened in these past 30 years? What made me become me? Perhaps this would need someone more qualified than me when it comes to psychology or anthropology but I will stick to what I think were the major milestones in my life, so far. And it's quite a big chunk of that: optimistically, around 33.33%. More realistically, almost 40%. Unless, of course, the reaper catches an earlier train and calls beforehand...but let's not go there. Here they are - reflections of my life:
1983
January, or thereabouts, I began this journey! Not much I can say, until Saturday October 22nd, when I saw light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, at St. Luke's Hospital, Pieta'.
1984
Halfway through summer of Orwell's infamous year I made my first steps. Quite a milestone I would say, given that walking is probably the activity which I have done every single day in the past 30 years. And a few months later, in the traditional Maltese quccija, I picked up the hammer. Magistrate? Carpenter? With the benefit of hindsight, one could attribute the tool to construction in general. Hence, the architect/structural engineer?
1985
Not much can I remember from here at this point, except from surprisingly vivid memories of my first Christmas and the effort which my parents, uncles and aunts made at re-interpreting the concept of Santa Claus delivering my presents via some other way other than the (non-existent) chimney, which I clearly pointed out.
1986
I would say that my most clear recollection from this year is listening to Madonna's "La isla bonita" and eventually "Who's that girl" which I would "sing" to my new-born sister in 1987. There was no MTV, no YouTube, no Spotify and no iPods: only the radio which was the sole source of entertainment to my then-teenage aunt. But perhaps this first exposure to music led to my later interest in this art? I know what the reader is saying, "Seriously? Madonna?" But every cloud has its silver lining.
It would also be the year when I first went to kindergarten and presumably reinforced my knowledge of the alphabet and the numbers. Elementary, true, but, at the end of the day, every single thing I have ever studied, read and/or written is a mere combination of these 10 digits and these 26 letters. Period. So quite an important academic year that was!
1987
The year my sister was born, which taught me a great lesson: that the world does not revolve around me (I learnt this before I heard of Galileo and his 'outrageous' theory that the earth is not the centre of the universe) but I need to share resources and respect the needs of others. Possibly one of life's greatest lessons which sadly many do not adhere to in the real world, from a colleague sharing a bathroom at the office to multi-billionaires destroying acres of rainforest every day.
1988
This was a year of many firsts: first time out of Malta, first time on a plane, first time I had a McDonald's milkshake. It was a relatively long trip in Germany, which brought also a number of disappointments: I was hoping to get a piece of cloud (but found that plane windows cannot be opened) and when visiting the Efteling fun park discovered that cartoon characters were not limited to hand-drawn entities but could also take the form of people dressed up in costumes. On a more serious note, I finally realised that the world is way bigger than Malta, to the extent that while on a train, my first experience of paresthesia took place. Nothing serious, of course, but at the time I was terrified that I was nearing death, with the cause being the ingrowing 'cactus plant' from all my nail-biting, a "disease" which had been used (unsatisfactorily) by my parents, uncles and aunts to make me quit the vice (I eventually did but only in 2000 or so).
1989
My first year at De La Salle College or DLS, which provided all my primary and secondary education for an entire decade. I would say that a few years after this point I started the intensive love-affair with Maltese history and architecture in particular, thanks to history lessons, which eventually led to my line of study.
In late 1989, I also started my music and piano tuition, which again led to an enduring passion which I maintain to this day.
1990
The year of my 2nd trip abroad (Italy, this time) at a time when the entire country was still feverish with Italia Novanta (or the 1990 World Cup), which brings to mind the many First Communion parties I was invited to during that summer, which often included TV sets with live matches. And mentioning First Communions, of course I also had my own on 10th June, which was the first (and probably last) time I had a bespoke suit made for me!
1991
One particular event I recall from this year: my first ever visit to a construction site (the Malta International Airport, where my father worked as a materials analyst at the time). I was completely overwhelmed by the vast size of the project, even back then. My clear memory is of a wide expanse of a sea-like, blue-coloured plastic (which I now know is the damp proof membrane laid before the ground slab was cast) in what would later be the arrivals and departures lounges. Probably it was the decisive moment when the die was cast and my fate as a structural engineer was sealed.
1992
I was only 8 at the time but I know it was the year when local general elections took place and it was probably the first time billboards were used (instead of the posters glued on buildings which I faintly remember from 1987). I remember a PN slogan at the time including the word solidarjeta' or solidarity, which I had no idea at the time what it meant, but I then remember an incident during lunch time when 2 students were involved in a 'fight' and an elder student controlled the situation yelling, "Fejn hi s-solidarjeta'?" or "Where is the solidarity?" whilst other on-lookers made references to the said slogan. It was perhaps the first time I realised that politics were serious (albeit 'grown-up') business; luckily I was never involved in the matters, until 1998...
1993
My first decade of life: I started my final year in primary school this year and it was very clear in my mind back then that I wanted to be "an architect, like Glormu Cassar", or the prolific 16th century Maltese architect responsible for building most of Valletta's public edifices. It was a combination of many incidents - the airport visit, the exposure to and love of art in general, the history classes referred to earlier, my childhood experiences in the Kalkara valley and the vernacular architecture there - but it was a decision which influenced many later decisions, which (of course) I do not regret.
1994
As a consequence of the event in 1993, I started secondary school in 1994, which saw a transition from the 'junior school' to the 'senior school' and (less gloriously) no longer wearing shorts as part of the school uniform. It was a radical shift in the schooling process, with my new subjects, including foreign languages, of which I never found any use at the time except for following Italian TV, but which became extremely handy many years down the line in my travels around Europe...
1995
One event comes to mind: the bicycle accident of 1st May, which left its mark on me (thankfully not physical) till this day. I cannot try to ride a bike without feeling all my muscles stiffen and completely mishandling the vehicle. I do not see any ways how this can be modified...
1996
I recall that I was in Form 3 (i.e. late 1996 or early 1997) that I had my first experience of the Internet at home. Needless to say, it was via a dial-up connection using a 56k modem on a Pentium I 133MHz PC running Windows '95. It is almost surreal to compare this seemingly archaic technology with the state-of-the-art digital advances. I am not comparing the Airbus A380 with the Wright brothers - a century apart - but this is a mere 20 years ago. I wonder what there can be beyond wireless and cloud technology...
1997
It was around this time that I realised that the end of secondary school is marked by sitting for 'O' Level exams. It was a word I had vaguely heard during conversations about my elder cousins, which seemed not applicable to me at the time but which suddenly became an imminent reality I had to face too!
1998
Recalling the reference to Maltese politics under '1992' above, it was during this summer that I went to the first political mass meeting(s) which uniquely characterise electoral campaigns in Malta. It was also when I decided that I will never attend such events again: I hate crowds and people (thinking about it, maybe I am claustrophobic?) and cannot fathom why one should go to such an event, particularly if during the hot and humid Maltese summer, when one can follow everything on TV from the comfort of home. And why should I indicate which party's meeting am I going to when voting is all done in secret? I never went to such events again (except on the E.U. accession celebrations in 2004...and a number of rock concerts) and never intend to do so in the future.
1999
And this was the year when I finished my 10 year stay at DLS, when I successfully sat for the famous 'O' Levels and when I started my 2 year (Sixth Form) stint at St. Aloysius College or SAC. It was an eventful year, particularly summer, when I had my first experience of voluntary work, which taught me that there are some aspects of life which cannot be bought by money and are quite priceless. Of course, us Christians believe that payment will be done in the afterlife, but let's keep things simple here...
The choice to go to SAC rather than stay at DLS was purely for the sake of change (besides the better reputation which SAC had, at least in my mind). I have absolutely no regrets and they were 2 of the best years of my life. The extra curricular activities I was engaged in - teen group, music group, Soiree - ensured that I never had a dull moment, amidst all the pure maths which became deeply engrained in me, alongside my ever-growing love for rock music and some friendships which developed at SAC which I hold dear till this day.
2000
The infamous millennium. The millennium bug. The Y2K. The end of the world. What I recall most from 2000 are the summer months, when I got my first (paid) job as a waiter in a local restaurant. Besides all the protocol of silver services and many 'tricks of the trade', this working experience taught me the value of money and that the only ransom for money is hard work, whether it is physical or intellectual.
2001
Can anyone not remember where s/he was on 11/09/01? I was having a nap and awoke to see the burning WTC North Tower and, sadly, just in time to see the 2nd plane hit the South counterpart. The significance for me was the fact that it happened a few weeks away from my first day at university, where I finally enrolled on the architecture/civil engineering course. The latter initially proved to be a sort of cultural shock, particularly drawing streetscapes and the whole lot after 2 years of pure maths and physics...
2002
Right after the new year, precisely on 03/01/02, I sadly experienced the first family death: that evening and rather suddenly the sole nannu I knew passed away. Even 11 years on it is surreal to think that he passed to a better life exactly on the same day my other nannu had died 20 years earlier...
On a much happier note, 27/06/02 was the day (or night) when I started dating one of my colleagues from uni whom I had already known from SAC. The years rolled on and, as they say, the rest is history.
On a lighter note, it was during this summer that I had my first car: the VW Polo Fox hatchback (FAA-821)!
2003
The second decade of my life. Almost half way through my undergraduate degree, walking towards my professional goal in life.
2004
My very own annus horribilis.
My beloved nanna passed away on 12/02/04 quite literally in my hands, only 1 day after a rather terrible design review (which eventually became the only time I ever had an exam referral). Just over 5 months later on 15/07/04, my uncle lost his decade-long, brave battle against cancer.
Two losses which left a deep impact on me, each in their own way. On one hand, the fragility of life and how we live at the mercy of, well, fate. On the other, how much family can never be underestimated, taken for granted or even unappreciated; luckily, it was not the case with nanna. From that point onwards I knew I had to invest all the effort necessary to reach my goals and dedicate the achievement in their memory.
2005
It was during this year that I made the choice to choose to devote my final 2 years at uni focusing more on civil/structural engineering rather than architecture; a choice which seemed so obvious back then but which would eventually be responsible for further choices down the line, always from the educational and/or career point of view. In retrospect, I do not think I would have chosen otherwise!
It was also during this summer that I worked as an architect/structural engineer for the first time during a summer placement at DeMicoli's in Portomaso. What an experience that was - I probably learnt as much as I did in 4 years of lectures!
2006
And finally I got my B.E.&A.(Hons.) degree. It was the end of an era but certainly leading to exciting times in the industry - I returned to DeMicoli's and was lucky enough to work on some of the practice's larger projects, including a 6 week stint in Libya in May 2007. The learning curve was steep, not because of the difficulties but because in a short time I believe I reached respectable heights and I feel I will be always indebted to the office when it comes to my professional development. First love never dies, as they say.
2007
Only until I flew to London on 22/09/07: scared and excited at the same time. The learning at Imperial College was intensive (I distinctly recall my reaction after the first finite element analysis lecture, which I will not reproduce here for the sake of decency), but the learning on a personal level was probably several orders of magnitude bigger. For the first time I was away from home for a reasonable length of time and this brought about new responsibilities. It also made me aware of what it really takes to run a household and that nothing can truly be taken for granted, including finding clean laundry in the drawer!
What I also learnt not to take for granted was something even more fundamental: life itself. The passing away of my cousin (who at merely 22 or 2 years younger than me) on 10/04/07 made me realise that the sad events of 2004 could really happen at any time and being alive is a huge privilege; life must be enjoyed to its fullness. Amidst all the hard work at Imperial, throughout that scholastic year I did my best to live up to this whilst in London.
2008
And after 12 intensive months, it was finally over. I got my M.Sc. and the conspicuous D.I.C., which Imperial awards to all its graduands, irrespective of gender. My time in London was not over: I moved to Surrey and started working with an engineering consultation practice, which, in a sort of deja vu manner, proved to be a very fruitful experience as much as the postgraduate degree was.
After living in London for a year with £1 being a steady €1.50 (or rather Lm0.60 as I knew it), 2008 was also the year when the pound decided to collapse, with the 2 currencies almost being 1:1 right after I got my first pay cheque, making my earnings not any much better than what I would get at home...
2009
Which is what I did in April 2009: I packed my 100kg of belongings and got a 1 way ticket to Malta. It was a serendipitous move: only a few months later did my girlfriend and I change our status to fiancée and fiancé, which brought about an exciting set of new activities to address. And in the meantime, that phone call from Imperial with an offer for a funded Ph.D. due to start in October! With all the dates set and virtually everything taken care of, I got yet another 1 way ticket to Heathrow and began another adventure, only that this time I knew I was not going to be alone for long!
2010
Everything changed after 20/03/10. The happiest day I can think of - finally Mr. and Mrs. Micallef. I think marriage is one of life's defining moments, probably the biggest commitment (even if, ironically, 2010 was the year Malta introduced divorce). Till one becomes a parent of course.
Being in London for a 2 year long 'honeymoon' started as a joke but amidst all the ups and downs which would follow throughout the course of my Ph.D. and with the 2 years extended by a further 2 (or so), it was definitely an exciting period of European travel (to date: Budapest, Barcelona, Paris, Valencia, Marrakesh and Amsterdam) and the occasional U.K. trip (too many to remember!), it was (and still is) a truly remarkable experience to live the first few years of married life in a city like London...and beyond.
2011
This was the year of uprising in the Arab states but was relatively calm in the Micallef household, except that there was a major decision taken towards the end of summer when my wife was also offered to do a Ph.D., which she accepted and thus extended our temporary stay in London by at least another 2 years...
2012
Definitely one of the hardest years I can think of. Never was I so close to quitting the bloody Ph.D. than the summer of this year. Frustration and difficulty in finding motivation were the main culprits but thanks to the (very little) determination I had left and the (very persistent) support I received, I managed to somehow complete my work and started writing up the blessed thesis in late autumn...
It also marked another sad family-related episode: my last-surviving grandparent passed away on 15/03/12 and with nanna I bid farewell to an entire generation of my family. Some life lessons are never taught at school, even if at the most advanced of the tertiary sort, and they are only learnt from experience. It still remains for me one of life's dilemmas although I paradoxically believe it is God's best way of dealing with us humans, that whatever and whoever you are, the same fate awaits us all...
2013
And here we are today: my third decade of life. This turned out to be a mini autobiography more than anything else, but I am one who finds it hard to kiss, that is, to keep it simple (no 'stupid' here for I respect you, dear reader, for having stuck till the end). That's part of me, along the other aspects which make who I am: a son, a brother, a husband, an architect/structural engineer and a music aficionado, currently stuck in London and now truly enjoying every bit of it more than ever before.
After the long ordeal at Imperial (whose termination I found most welcome), I gave academia another chance by working as a research fellow at the University of Surrey. To be fair, it was less stressful working scenario, albeit still productive, but...that will be in another post.
What's planned for this decade? They say life begins at 40, so I have plenty of time left to think about what I will do in life. Till then, the plan is to get yet another 1 way ticket to Malta and simultaneously build a new home there and a professional career, cherishing all the memories accumulated in London. I seriously cannot imagine what I will be writing about in the period 2014-2023 but definitely will not be in a blog called "The streets of London"!
Probably 1 of these landmark years which truly marks the transition into adulthood. Not that 20 does not fall in the adult realm but I would say that being legally recognised as an adult - i.e., with the right to vote, drink and drive (what joys) - does not imply the degree of maturity society expects from adults. Especially in the context of being an undergraduate student, even in a relatively conservative university environment like Malta, where condom machines are not permitted and where there is virtually no need for students to 'leave home' and experience independent student living away from their childhood cocoon.
Probably life's biggest lessons which I have learnt so far were triggered by the fact that I have lived the greatest part of the last 6 years - my God, thinking about it is scary - in London, where for the first time I experienced the above: away from the comfort of home, having to worry about shopping and feeding and cleaning and other household aches, away from the luxury of a car at my doorstep and having to travel in a city which is several times bigger than my entire native country and striving to harmoniously live with people from 101 diverse backgrounds, cultures and ways of living which are acceptable in their own view but not necessarily in mine. Where else would have this been possible? Fair enough, any other major metropolis, say NYC, but Malta? Not in a million years. Unless the Mediterranean dries up and the Maltese landmass increases by some 1000% and suddenly not only North Africans but people of all nations 'move in'.
From what started off as a 12 month stay ended up being extended to a 3 year one and, in the meantime, it was no longer me but two of us here, hence the additional 2 years appended to the original 3. Ironically, these 2 years might actually prove to be the most exciting of the lot, given that I am finally free from any formal schooling (about time, too) and with a new promising job in the pipeline. But that is another story...the story here is a hi-story one and an egocentric one at that, where the subject is, quite simply, me.
What happened in these past 30 years? What made me become me? Perhaps this would need someone more qualified than me when it comes to psychology or anthropology but I will stick to what I think were the major milestones in my life, so far. And it's quite a big chunk of that: optimistically, around 33.33%. More realistically, almost 40%. Unless, of course, the reaper catches an earlier train and calls beforehand...but let's not go there. Here they are - reflections of my life:
1983
January, or thereabouts, I began this journey! Not much I can say, until Saturday October 22nd, when I saw light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, at St. Luke's Hospital, Pieta'.
1984
Halfway through summer of Orwell's infamous year I made my first steps. Quite a milestone I would say, given that walking is probably the activity which I have done every single day in the past 30 years. And a few months later, in the traditional Maltese quccija, I picked up the hammer. Magistrate? Carpenter? With the benefit of hindsight, one could attribute the tool to construction in general. Hence, the architect/structural engineer?
1985
Not much can I remember from here at this point, except from surprisingly vivid memories of my first Christmas and the effort which my parents, uncles and aunts made at re-interpreting the concept of Santa Claus delivering my presents via some other way other than the (non-existent) chimney, which I clearly pointed out.
1986
I would say that my most clear recollection from this year is listening to Madonna's "La isla bonita" and eventually "Who's that girl" which I would "sing" to my new-born sister in 1987. There was no MTV, no YouTube, no Spotify and no iPods: only the radio which was the sole source of entertainment to my then-teenage aunt. But perhaps this first exposure to music led to my later interest in this art? I know what the reader is saying, "Seriously? Madonna?" But every cloud has its silver lining.
It would also be the year when I first went to kindergarten and presumably reinforced my knowledge of the alphabet and the numbers. Elementary, true, but, at the end of the day, every single thing I have ever studied, read and/or written is a mere combination of these 10 digits and these 26 letters. Period. So quite an important academic year that was!
1987
The year my sister was born, which taught me a great lesson: that the world does not revolve around me (I learnt this before I heard of Galileo and his 'outrageous' theory that the earth is not the centre of the universe) but I need to share resources and respect the needs of others. Possibly one of life's greatest lessons which sadly many do not adhere to in the real world, from a colleague sharing a bathroom at the office to multi-billionaires destroying acres of rainforest every day.
1988
This was a year of many firsts: first time out of Malta, first time on a plane, first time I had a McDonald's milkshake. It was a relatively long trip in Germany, which brought also a number of disappointments: I was hoping to get a piece of cloud (but found that plane windows cannot be opened) and when visiting the Efteling fun park discovered that cartoon characters were not limited to hand-drawn entities but could also take the form of people dressed up in costumes. On a more serious note, I finally realised that the world is way bigger than Malta, to the extent that while on a train, my first experience of paresthesia took place. Nothing serious, of course, but at the time I was terrified that I was nearing death, with the cause being the ingrowing 'cactus plant' from all my nail-biting, a "disease" which had been used (unsatisfactorily) by my parents, uncles and aunts to make me quit the vice (I eventually did but only in 2000 or so).
1989
My first year at De La Salle College or DLS, which provided all my primary and secondary education for an entire decade. I would say that a few years after this point I started the intensive love-affair with Maltese history and architecture in particular, thanks to history lessons, which eventually led to my line of study.
In late 1989, I also started my music and piano tuition, which again led to an enduring passion which I maintain to this day.
1990
The year of my 2nd trip abroad (Italy, this time) at a time when the entire country was still feverish with Italia Novanta (or the 1990 World Cup), which brings to mind the many First Communion parties I was invited to during that summer, which often included TV sets with live matches. And mentioning First Communions, of course I also had my own on 10th June, which was the first (and probably last) time I had a bespoke suit made for me!
1991
One particular event I recall from this year: my first ever visit to a construction site (the Malta International Airport, where my father worked as a materials analyst at the time). I was completely overwhelmed by the vast size of the project, even back then. My clear memory is of a wide expanse of a sea-like, blue-coloured plastic (which I now know is the damp proof membrane laid before the ground slab was cast) in what would later be the arrivals and departures lounges. Probably it was the decisive moment when the die was cast and my fate as a structural engineer was sealed.
1992
I was only 8 at the time but I know it was the year when local general elections took place and it was probably the first time billboards were used (instead of the posters glued on buildings which I faintly remember from 1987). I remember a PN slogan at the time including the word solidarjeta' or solidarity, which I had no idea at the time what it meant, but I then remember an incident during lunch time when 2 students were involved in a 'fight' and an elder student controlled the situation yelling, "Fejn hi s-solidarjeta'?" or "Where is the solidarity?" whilst other on-lookers made references to the said slogan. It was perhaps the first time I realised that politics were serious (albeit 'grown-up') business; luckily I was never involved in the matters, until 1998...
1993
My first decade of life: I started my final year in primary school this year and it was very clear in my mind back then that I wanted to be "an architect, like Glormu Cassar", or the prolific 16th century Maltese architect responsible for building most of Valletta's public edifices. It was a combination of many incidents - the airport visit, the exposure to and love of art in general, the history classes referred to earlier, my childhood experiences in the Kalkara valley and the vernacular architecture there - but it was a decision which influenced many later decisions, which (of course) I do not regret.
1994
As a consequence of the event in 1993, I started secondary school in 1994, which saw a transition from the 'junior school' to the 'senior school' and (less gloriously) no longer wearing shorts as part of the school uniform. It was a radical shift in the schooling process, with my new subjects, including foreign languages, of which I never found any use at the time except for following Italian TV, but which became extremely handy many years down the line in my travels around Europe...
1995
One event comes to mind: the bicycle accident of 1st May, which left its mark on me (thankfully not physical) till this day. I cannot try to ride a bike without feeling all my muscles stiffen and completely mishandling the vehicle. I do not see any ways how this can be modified...
1996
I recall that I was in Form 3 (i.e. late 1996 or early 1997) that I had my first experience of the Internet at home. Needless to say, it was via a dial-up connection using a 56k modem on a Pentium I 133MHz PC running Windows '95. It is almost surreal to compare this seemingly archaic technology with the state-of-the-art digital advances. I am not comparing the Airbus A380 with the Wright brothers - a century apart - but this is a mere 20 years ago. I wonder what there can be beyond wireless and cloud technology...
1997
It was around this time that I realised that the end of secondary school is marked by sitting for 'O' Level exams. It was a word I had vaguely heard during conversations about my elder cousins, which seemed not applicable to me at the time but which suddenly became an imminent reality I had to face too!
1998
Recalling the reference to Maltese politics under '1992' above, it was during this summer that I went to the first political mass meeting(s) which uniquely characterise electoral campaigns in Malta. It was also when I decided that I will never attend such events again: I hate crowds and people (thinking about it, maybe I am claustrophobic?) and cannot fathom why one should go to such an event, particularly if during the hot and humid Maltese summer, when one can follow everything on TV from the comfort of home. And why should I indicate which party's meeting am I going to when voting is all done in secret? I never went to such events again (except on the E.U. accession celebrations in 2004...and a number of rock concerts) and never intend to do so in the future.
1999
And this was the year when I finished my 10 year stay at DLS, when I successfully sat for the famous 'O' Levels and when I started my 2 year (Sixth Form) stint at St. Aloysius College or SAC. It was an eventful year, particularly summer, when I had my first experience of voluntary work, which taught me that there are some aspects of life which cannot be bought by money and are quite priceless. Of course, us Christians believe that payment will be done in the afterlife, but let's keep things simple here...
The choice to go to SAC rather than stay at DLS was purely for the sake of change (besides the better reputation which SAC had, at least in my mind). I have absolutely no regrets and they were 2 of the best years of my life. The extra curricular activities I was engaged in - teen group, music group, Soiree - ensured that I never had a dull moment, amidst all the pure maths which became deeply engrained in me, alongside my ever-growing love for rock music and some friendships which developed at SAC which I hold dear till this day.
2000
The infamous millennium. The millennium bug. The Y2K. The end of the world. What I recall most from 2000 are the summer months, when I got my first (paid) job as a waiter in a local restaurant. Besides all the protocol of silver services and many 'tricks of the trade', this working experience taught me the value of money and that the only ransom for money is hard work, whether it is physical or intellectual.
2001
Can anyone not remember where s/he was on 11/09/01? I was having a nap and awoke to see the burning WTC North Tower and, sadly, just in time to see the 2nd plane hit the South counterpart. The significance for me was the fact that it happened a few weeks away from my first day at university, where I finally enrolled on the architecture/civil engineering course. The latter initially proved to be a sort of cultural shock, particularly drawing streetscapes and the whole lot after 2 years of pure maths and physics...
2002
Right after the new year, precisely on 03/01/02, I sadly experienced the first family death: that evening and rather suddenly the sole nannu I knew passed away. Even 11 years on it is surreal to think that he passed to a better life exactly on the same day my other nannu had died 20 years earlier...
On a much happier note, 27/06/02 was the day (or night) when I started dating one of my colleagues from uni whom I had already known from SAC. The years rolled on and, as they say, the rest is history.
On a lighter note, it was during this summer that I had my first car: the VW Polo Fox hatchback (FAA-821)!
2003
The second decade of my life. Almost half way through my undergraduate degree, walking towards my professional goal in life.
2004
My very own annus horribilis.
My beloved nanna passed away on 12/02/04 quite literally in my hands, only 1 day after a rather terrible design review (which eventually became the only time I ever had an exam referral). Just over 5 months later on 15/07/04, my uncle lost his decade-long, brave battle against cancer.
Two losses which left a deep impact on me, each in their own way. On one hand, the fragility of life and how we live at the mercy of, well, fate. On the other, how much family can never be underestimated, taken for granted or even unappreciated; luckily, it was not the case with nanna. From that point onwards I knew I had to invest all the effort necessary to reach my goals and dedicate the achievement in their memory.
2005
It was during this year that I made the choice to choose to devote my final 2 years at uni focusing more on civil/structural engineering rather than architecture; a choice which seemed so obvious back then but which would eventually be responsible for further choices down the line, always from the educational and/or career point of view. In retrospect, I do not think I would have chosen otherwise!
It was also during this summer that I worked as an architect/structural engineer for the first time during a summer placement at DeMicoli's in Portomaso. What an experience that was - I probably learnt as much as I did in 4 years of lectures!
2006
And finally I got my B.E.&A.(Hons.) degree. It was the end of an era but certainly leading to exciting times in the industry - I returned to DeMicoli's and was lucky enough to work on some of the practice's larger projects, including a 6 week stint in Libya in May 2007. The learning curve was steep, not because of the difficulties but because in a short time I believe I reached respectable heights and I feel I will be always indebted to the office when it comes to my professional development. First love never dies, as they say.
2007
Only until I flew to London on 22/09/07: scared and excited at the same time. The learning at Imperial College was intensive (I distinctly recall my reaction after the first finite element analysis lecture, which I will not reproduce here for the sake of decency), but the learning on a personal level was probably several orders of magnitude bigger. For the first time I was away from home for a reasonable length of time and this brought about new responsibilities. It also made me aware of what it really takes to run a household and that nothing can truly be taken for granted, including finding clean laundry in the drawer!
What I also learnt not to take for granted was something even more fundamental: life itself. The passing away of my cousin (who at merely 22 or 2 years younger than me) on 10/04/07 made me realise that the sad events of 2004 could really happen at any time and being alive is a huge privilege; life must be enjoyed to its fullness. Amidst all the hard work at Imperial, throughout that scholastic year I did my best to live up to this whilst in London.
2008
And after 12 intensive months, it was finally over. I got my M.Sc. and the conspicuous D.I.C., which Imperial awards to all its graduands, irrespective of gender. My time in London was not over: I moved to Surrey and started working with an engineering consultation practice, which, in a sort of deja vu manner, proved to be a very fruitful experience as much as the postgraduate degree was.
After living in London for a year with £1 being a steady €1.50 (or rather Lm0.60 as I knew it), 2008 was also the year when the pound decided to collapse, with the 2 currencies almost being 1:1 right after I got my first pay cheque, making my earnings not any much better than what I would get at home...
2009
Which is what I did in April 2009: I packed my 100kg of belongings and got a 1 way ticket to Malta. It was a serendipitous move: only a few months later did my girlfriend and I change our status to fiancée and fiancé, which brought about an exciting set of new activities to address. And in the meantime, that phone call from Imperial with an offer for a funded Ph.D. due to start in October! With all the dates set and virtually everything taken care of, I got yet another 1 way ticket to Heathrow and began another adventure, only that this time I knew I was not going to be alone for long!
2010
Everything changed after 20/03/10. The happiest day I can think of - finally Mr. and Mrs. Micallef. I think marriage is one of life's defining moments, probably the biggest commitment (even if, ironically, 2010 was the year Malta introduced divorce). Till one becomes a parent of course.
Being in London for a 2 year long 'honeymoon' started as a joke but amidst all the ups and downs which would follow throughout the course of my Ph.D. and with the 2 years extended by a further 2 (or so), it was definitely an exciting period of European travel (to date: Budapest, Barcelona, Paris, Valencia, Marrakesh and Amsterdam) and the occasional U.K. trip (too many to remember!), it was (and still is) a truly remarkable experience to live the first few years of married life in a city like London...and beyond.
2011
This was the year of uprising in the Arab states but was relatively calm in the Micallef household, except that there was a major decision taken towards the end of summer when my wife was also offered to do a Ph.D., which she accepted and thus extended our temporary stay in London by at least another 2 years...
2012
Definitely one of the hardest years I can think of. Never was I so close to quitting the bloody Ph.D. than the summer of this year. Frustration and difficulty in finding motivation were the main culprits but thanks to the (very little) determination I had left and the (very persistent) support I received, I managed to somehow complete my work and started writing up the blessed thesis in late autumn...
It also marked another sad family-related episode: my last-surviving grandparent passed away on 15/03/12 and with nanna I bid farewell to an entire generation of my family. Some life lessons are never taught at school, even if at the most advanced of the tertiary sort, and they are only learnt from experience. It still remains for me one of life's dilemmas although I paradoxically believe it is God's best way of dealing with us humans, that whatever and whoever you are, the same fate awaits us all...
2013
And here we are today: my third decade of life. This turned out to be a mini autobiography more than anything else, but I am one who finds it hard to kiss, that is, to keep it simple (no 'stupid' here for I respect you, dear reader, for having stuck till the end). That's part of me, along the other aspects which make who I am: a son, a brother, a husband, an architect/structural engineer and a music aficionado, currently stuck in London and now truly enjoying every bit of it more than ever before.
After the long ordeal at Imperial (whose termination I found most welcome), I gave academia another chance by working as a research fellow at the University of Surrey. To be fair, it was less stressful working scenario, albeit still productive, but...that will be in another post.
What's planned for this decade? They say life begins at 40, so I have plenty of time left to think about what I will do in life. Till then, the plan is to get yet another 1 way ticket to Malta and simultaneously build a new home there and a professional career, cherishing all the memories accumulated in London. I seriously cannot imagine what I will be writing about in the period 2014-2023 but definitely will not be in a blog called "The streets of London"!
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