“Smaller than the Isle of Wight”, I kept saying. And another place we put our Empirical stamp on, cue much guilt on whatever we fucked over this time round. Anyway, the idea of some winter sun was appealing. We did our usual thing of looking at where was available from Manchester Airport, and chose this little beauty.
We arrived inappropriately dressed for the climate - it rarely went below 18 celsius, especially smug inducing as it was around 4 degrees back in Yorkshire. One crazy old coach journey later, and we were at Buġibba, a concrete pimple on the north side of the island. Imagine Clacton but with a slightly better climate. It was pretty hideous, but we were there for the cheap accommodation, and our hotel was perfect for what we needed, and only around 115 Euros for the whole week. We even had our own kitchen, so breakfast, lunch and most dinners were on us, sourced from the nearby supermarket which got a million points for stocking one of my favourite ciders.
What Buġibba lacked in architecture it made up for in views and cats, and views of cats. The sunset over the bay was beautiful and turned the sky a crazy purple/orange colour. And there were cats everywhere! Mostly friendly, and most of them we wanted to take back with us.
The first morning brought on the most intense storm, and we were out of basic provisions, so I had to venture out. Buġibba seems to have no drainage system, so every street was turned into a waterfall. Down the end of the road it had backed up to be a couple of feet deep. I made it there and back so utterly drenched, but it was worth it to get our sugar crisp cereal!!
The first full day was spent in the capital Valletta, a hotch potch of tourist traps and abandoned dilapidated buildings. The war museum gave insight into just what the island endured during WWII, apparently a higher volume of bombs fell on Malta than were dropped on the entirely of the UK. It’s amazing to see there’s anything left.
We spent most evenings watching movies on a Dubai-based satellite station, or music on the German channel Deluxe TV. They had a mash-ups section that was ridiculously well put together, and they also got me into Philipp Poisel, so cheers for that.
Each additional day was spent off in different corners of the island. The weather mostly held out. It was rarely full on sunny, but it was never anything approaching cold. The best day was spent up on Gozo, a small island to the north. The guidebooks say you could spend a full week entertained here, and I could definitely see that. There was something quite charming about the place. The highlight was a walk around the cost and various sights that brought to us.
The Hypogeum was another highlight - underground tombs that are among the oldest stone structures in the world. It holds its fascination in that it was discovered by accident, we’ll never truly know how it was made or what significance it has, and there could be dozens more of these hidden around the island.
Food! For all of its red-faced English pensioners in English bars, Buġibba did come up trumps with the most amazing restaurant. We ended up going there two nights in row we loved it so much. The speciality were platters of locally sourced starters and desserts, with rabbit for main. I remember being in taste heaven, it was amazing. Although the second evening did seem to be preparing for a hen do - there was a massive penis cake left on the table next to us.
The cost of things was another revelation. It helped that we were making most of our own meals, but I took out 120 Euros at the start of the week and came home with plenty of change. After wallet burning trips to Japan, Norway and Switzerland, this was a welcome relief.
The end came with the usual holiday envy. When you arrive on one of these fast turnaround budget flights, you see all the miserable sods waiting to get on your plane to shuffle off home. Meanwhile you’re bouncing down onto the tarmac eager to get started. Then comes the reverse: you are the miserable sod, utterly envious of everyone getting off your plane about to start their holiday. Bastards.
I feel like we pretty much covered the whole island in a week, and that was pacing ourselves. I wouldn’t want to go in high season - the infrastructure seemed fit to burst with the minimal tourists that there were in November, and we had the bonus appeal of walking around shut down beaches like it was a ghost town. For a cheap getaway, this was perfect.
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