An Italo-Swiss trip

As I had written a few months ago, one of the (few) joys attached to doing a Ph.D. is the chance to participate in international conferences. I reckon I am quite lucky to be given the opportunity to attend to yet another of such conferences and present some of my works, too. This particular conference, from an acadamic point of view, promised to be more interesting than previous ones since rather than being very broad in its contents and deal with composite materials in general, it was entirely devoted to protective structures and thus, presumably, would be more within my field of interest. Also, the venue sounded quite interesting: Switzerland, a country I had never been to. Logistically, it proved to be more stressful: it coincided with yet another conference (in South Korea) and thus had to choose between the 2 (or rather, my supervisor chose for me) and it also was to be held during the week just after my wife's birthday and during the week when her M.Sc. thesis was due. Although I am virtually helpless in the latter, for she has to do her own work, I thought I might at least offer some moral support, but alas, on the 28th of August I left London to Lugano and embark on Protect 2011.

The flight was not direct and started off at London City Airport. I had never been to the latter and the journey to the far east of London on the DLR proved to be interesting. Once on board the Swiss air plane, my suspicions as to how this flight will be started to materialise. I recalled the first non-direct flight I did in the past (to Stuttgart), where the plane was a tiny, propellored one. This time, the London-Zurich flight was a "normal" plane, but with 2 rows of 3 and 2 people, rather than the usual 3 and 3. I had a good window seat in the 2 person row and the flight was smooth. Once at Zurich, I was amazed at the huge number of people there and the somewhat confused departure lounge. I only hoped that my suitcase would not get misplaced and put my mind at rest when I saw it being loaded on the plane once on the runway. My peace of mind disappeared when I realised that the plane was one of those damn noisy propellor ones and this was even smaller: 1 and 2 person rows! Again, I had a window single seat and, thankfully, the journey was less than 45 minutes long. And thus I landed in Lugano and got into an airport the size of a large house.

I was amazed to find out that my impression of Switzerland was totally wrong. I had this image of snow and ice and cold Alpine conditions, but I found a 28 degree sunny Lugano waiting for me. It was also very comforting to note that everything and everyone used Italian in this little appendix of Helvetica which is very much Mediterranean in its attitude, albeit slightly more organised and clean than the average Italian city. Undoubtedly the German-Swiss influence. A 15 minute journey took me to the hotel literally at the water's edge and with a magnificent view of Lake Lugano and the 2 quasi symmetrical mountains towering over it: Bre and San Salvatore.

I was rather hungry at that point and decided to go and fetch some quick dinner. The first obvious choice was unfortunately Burger King, only to find that a normal meal there cost almost 14 Swiss Francs (when I had bought Francs at 1 CHF for £0.85). Unbelievable! I had been warned that Switzerland was rather expensive, but even such a "basic" foodstuff was almost double what it is in an average European city! I recalled that infamous slogan from the 2003 E.U. campaign back in Malta, when that sorry man had promoted the idea of turning Malta into a Mediterranean Switzerland. Did that mean doubling the cost of living, or more? If so, then what a relief that that man's ideas never materialised...

The following day was a kick off for the work part of the trip: a technical tour. The venue was actually in Italy and thus a coach took the smallish congregation of participants to Galbiate in Italy. No checks whatsoever were done at the border, in typical Italian style. The venue proved to be quite picturesque and the lunch, well, impeccable, in yet again true Italian style. The prosecco in particular was very tasty. After a longish first day, we travelled back to Switzerland and had a good night's sleep, but only after an ice-breaking cocktail evening, where I savoured some more great local food. And wine, of course.

The next day was busy, spent mostly at the conference venue. En route from the hotel, I saw virtually all of Lugano and continued to amaze myself at how expensive everything is. I also noticed that there were a lot of pharmacies, probably the highest number of pharmacies per capita in the world and concluded that either the Swiss get sick very often or pharmaceuticals are the only cheap thing in this place. That evening, I headed to Lugano station and after a long tour trying to find how the ticket purchasing system worked, I got train tickets for Milan. More on that later. I realised how much organised the Brits are, with 1000 signs every 5m, announcements every 5 minutes and everything so accessible and fool-proof. I guess the Italianite influence is far too strong in this part of Switzerland. I prepared myself for my presentation due on the next day, though such an activity did not require much adrenaline anymore.

Indeed, the presentation was very smooth and had only 2 questions from the chairman at the end. After the day's sessions, I decided to do some proper Luganese sightseeing. I walked west along the lake's edge, encountered one of Mario Botta's typical brick buildings and then boarded the funicular which led me to the top of Mount San Salvatore. As far as I remember, I had never been up such a high mountain (912m, to be precise) and, indeed, never up such a high anything (the Eiffel Tower is a mere 300m compared to the threefold height of this rocky beast). Once at the summit, after my ears popped a few times and the temperature was slightly fresher and more pleasant, I was left with a vast 360-degree panorama of pure Alpine beauty laid out like a capet below me. Absolute heaven. So was the chilled beer I had after touring the mountain-top chapel and some of the rugged paths snaking around the top.

Thursday was then the final day of the conference and the highlight of the day was undoubtedly the conference dinner that evening. Once again, we travelled to Italy, this time to Villa Erba close to Como and enjoyed an amazing 4 course meal in a superb setting. Back to Lugano, I bid farewell to the new acquintances I had made and retired immediately to recharge myself for the trip that awaited the next day.

Surprise, surprise, I was going to Italy, again. In less than a week, I would have gone to Italy 3 times, that is more than the 2 times I have been in the previous 27 years! However, I had never been to Milan and, being this close to the Lombardia region, I decided to pay a visit to the northern capital of Italy. I was very sorry to find out that, even having checked as early as July, there were no tickets available to view Leonardo's "The Last Supper" in the famous Milanese convent, but soon filled my itenerary with numerous substitutes which filled the whole day: the utterly Fascist Stazione Milano Centrale, the sleek Pirelli Tower of Nervi, the magnificent Duomo, the posh Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II, the famed Teatro della Scala, my Inter's beloved Stadio Giuseppe Meazza, the hidden gem that is Pinacoteca Brera and the awesome Castello Sforzesco.

I imagined the Centrale station to be a large-scale version of the old Valletta City Gate, only a bit more adorned and monumental. With the quasi operatic music in the background, I was almost expecting some Mussolini wannabe to start making an impromptu speech in the ticket hall. I got myself a day ticket for the metro and then paid tribute to the engineering marvel that is Nervi's Pirelli Tower. The weather was not attractive: grey skies and terribly hot and humid conditions. I took the metro and landed at the foot of the Duomo. What an impressive facade: well-conserved Gothic fantasy. The interior was equally impressive, although the quasi-industrial white lighting was somewhat disappointing. I headed to the Scala theatre via the Galleria building and did not fail to do some window shopping. The Scala was closed and I wondered what splendour was hiding behind that modest facade.

I had a quick lunch and then headed off to the west in the San Siro area of Milan, precisely to visit Inter's (well, and AC Milan's) Stadio Giuseppe Meazza. I decided to walk up the road to the stadium and this was a serendipitious choice: I saw a huge array of artwork by graffiti artists and many of them at work, creating wonderful improvised works of art in this Camden-like part of Milan. Once at the Meazza, I was amazed by the structure's dimensions. So much different seeing the real thing than just on TV! I got my ticket and made my way to the museum and then the stadium tour, including the teams' changing rooms! Quite a memorable experience...

After San Siro, it was time for some more cultural activities and headed to the Brera Gallery. I knew the "stars" of the place - Hayez's "The Kiss", Caravaggio's "Meal at Emmaus" and Raphael's "Marriage of the Virgin", among others - but I was also delighted to find 2 works by Mattia Preti which he actually undertook whilst in Malta! A well-spent two hours later, I almost literally ran to the ancient Milan stronghold of Castello Sforzesco, hoping it would still be open. It was, but the museums therein were not, and thus did not manage to have a look at Michelangelo's last piece of work, the Rondanini Pieta'. Alas, visiting the mighty citadel was worthwhile nevertheless. I forgot to mention that by the time I was leaving the Meazza, the sky had cleared to a more decent blue and thus I went back to Piazza del Duomo and took a few "better" pictures before it was time to return to the Centrale and northbound to Lugano. What a great day!

My final day in the Swiss land was greeted by a grey sky, albeit warm and somewhat uncomfortably humid. I did manage a quick stroll along the pedestrianised quarters of Via Nassa, of course not intending to buy anything from that devilish shopping quarter and only consumed my remaining Franc coins on water and a snack. I finished off my current read (Archer's "As the crow flies"), which kept me almost off my seat more than the turbulent flight from Lugano to Zurich. The association with Heathrow meant an inevitable delay and the journey back to London finally came to an end in the evening. Thankfully, home is now only a few minutes on the Heathrow Express and thus concluded my Protect 2011 experience.

My impression of the Swiss? I would say the landscape is impeccable and the culture somewhat weird, being a complex interbreed of French, German and Italian (though I mostly savoured only the latter). My view of Milan was not as promising as I thought the Italian capital of the north would be; a few smelly and almost run-down areas did not fail to catch my attention, but the sights were definitely worth travelling to, although I must re-iterate that I wished I had been to see Leonardo's cenacolo fresco. A good excuse to visit Milian another time, perhaps!

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!