St. Paul’s Grotto and Manikata

It seems that no matter where you go in Malta, you are sure to see some Saint or another memorialized in some statue, shrine, or placard.  I saw this Mary and Jesus in the suburbs of Mdina near the castle and thought that they would make a fine photo.  The tour guides and the tour books all describe the Maltese as “fervently Catholic,” but I have noticed quite a few “under aged” young ladies at the night clubs.  It seems that the drinking age is, well, there isn’t one.  I’ve seen young women as young as 15 or 16 “hanging out” and dancing along with the rest of the 20, 30, and 40 year olds.  What was it they said about the Catholic school girls in America?  I begin to wonder if the stereotype doesn’t have some base in truth?

Next on the stop was the Museum of Roman Antiquities.  I only took a few shots because as we pulled up and parked it suddenly started raining quite heavily.  I tucked the camera away and did not take it out again at this stop.  The ruins, of the Roman age have been weathered but some that were not exposed survived well.  A large tile mosaic floor shows life scenes from the Roman times two thousand years ago.

By the time we got to this Cathedral, I asked the tour guide when were we going to stop at St. Paul’s Grotto?  She looked surprised and said that we already passed it.  I was a bit upset, I had been wanting to come to see the Grotto for many years.  It is believed to have been where Paul lived (or was imprisoned by the Romans according to some accounts) and wrote some books of the New Testament.

She said that she didn’t think anyone would want to stop there because of the rain.  Argh!  Now I really have another reason to return to Malta.  The Grotto and the countless number of archaeological treasures that are here, I plan to come back for two weeks on my next visit – but definitely during the summer so that I can enjoy the beaches as well.

I looked at this Cathedral and had no interest.  As the tour guide went on about its importance I just sulked.  So, I don’t even know the name of it today.  I do remember one interesting tidbit of information that I gleaned from the tour guide’s speech.  She said that to confuse the Devil, two clocks were kept; one clock had the correct time and the other was a decoy.  I can’t remember why it was important that Satan couldn’t tell time, but it seemed to be important enough to buy two clocks instead of one.  Sure enough, you can see that the clocks are off by about 4 hours and 15 minutes.

As we worked our way to the west coast of Malta, Manikata finally came into view beyond the rows of produce that were growing in the fields.  Malta’s mild climate provides for growing opportunities year round and our tour guide told us that Malta is self-sufficient in the production of food.  Only specialty items that cannot be grown here (like bananas) are imported.  But, Malta’s food exports more than equal the imports and the island is a farmer’s treasure.

Manikata seems to be a thriving tourist area, especially for those who want a little peace and quiet compared to Valletta or the east coast.  Manikata also has sand beaches and I did notice a few hotels under construction.

As we travelled back overland to the northeastern part of the island, we came to Saint Paul’s Bay where it appeared there was a thriving boating, fishing, and sailing businesses.  The map says that there is a nature preserve at the end of the bay (just off frame to the left)), but it seemed hard to believe as the area was so developed.

As we traveled east along the north shore of Malta, we came across so many little fortresses.  They reminded me of the forts of Bahrain, Oman, and in the Persian Gulf.  I tried to imagine the soldier guards as they watched every day for ships who may be coming to prey on the coast of Malta.  There are so many similarities with our soldiers today.  One wonders if war will ever end?

Heading to Pembroke (just west of Sliema and Valletta) I took this photo and at the left edge of the frame, out on the finger of land, you can see another little guard fortress.  I’ll definitely come back to Malta, but the next time, it will be in the summer time!

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drive to Jaipur

… curious faces…

As I had said before, travel in India is not easy.  The bus that I took from Agra to Jaipur was an all day long affair.  I checked with my hotel as to the cost of the ticket and I was told that it was two dollars.  Later, on the bus, I talked with several other travellers and they were shocked at how much I was overcharged.  Apparently the actual cost of the ticket was only a dollar and my hotel charged me a 100% commission.  I was only in India for a few weeks, the cost seemed minimal to me.  Many travelers I have met are on a serious “budget” and actually survive on US $5 per day.  Yes, that’s including food, hotel, touring, and transport.  India is indeed affordable.

As I shrugged off the “overcharge” of my ticket, I remembered back to a conversation that I had just outside the Taj Mahal.  I met an Italian doctor who works in London.  He was travelling with a mate from London and the two men were touring around India.  The doctor had just finished a 6 month “Doctors without Borders” tour in India.  He explained his philosophy on paying too much in other countries.  A taxi cab ride in India may cost 15 or 20 cents but when a taxi cab driver charges a westerner a dollar, and that person pays because its easier to pay than to haggle over eighty five cents, he says that this is a huge dis-service to Indians.  Now, the taxi cab driver will ignore locals because he wants the big western tip.  Locals become angry at tourists and the practice also inflates the cost of taxi cabs for everyone.  Additionally, the perceived value of goods is warped and the tourist’s visit is disruptive to the area being visited.  He explained that in his opinion, tourists should always strive to pay (and tip) the same rate as the locals.

So, I thought about my $1 dollar overcharge on the bus fare.  Hmm…  well, I’ll try to get the “local’s price” in the future…

I took the above photo early in the bus ride; by the time the bus arrived in Jaipur, it was standing room only.  The bus was completely filled with local Indian people; most had not appeared to have bathed in months.  The boy below was clothed only in a t-shirt and was stark naked from the waist down.  He seemed genuinely curious about me and stared for about 15 minutes.  I was happy to entertain him but was constantly worried that he would decide to use the toilet as he stood talking to me as I had seen on the street so many times.  He was young and I was not completely sure that he was toilet trained yet and the thought of him “slipping” had me on edge.

Later in the bus ride, the top luggage areas filled full of people until I had a pair of unwashed feet in my face.  I shot a photo of Rainer (the nice German fellow I met on this ride) to give to him later.  The two Indian men in the top photo were “standing room only” as the bus completely filled up.  The bus was hot, it was smelly, it was uncomfortable.  At each stop I struggled to shoot photos out of the window as a blur of Indian people, culture, sights, sounds, and smells rushed past my senses.

I saw all sorts of animals including buffalo, camel, elephant, and of course, so many cows…

Even though the following photo is a bit blurred because the bus was moving so quickly, it still captures the beautiful colors of the Indian women’s clothing.  The traditional clothing was always so bright and vibrant and provided such a strong color contrast to the grey and tan of the dirt roads and buildings.

A few times along the day-long bus ride we stopped at little markets to pick up and drop off passengers.  Not wanting to leave my luggage, I negotiated out of the open window to buy bottled water, bananas and nuts.

It was a treat to be able to see the local people as they went about their lives raising children, selling their wares, or bringing food back from the market.  The people who I met on the bus were friendly and curious.  Those that could speak English asked where I was from, how long was I travelling, where was my wife? and why didn’t I have any children?  They often translated for those who did not speak English.  Rainer and his girlfriend chatted with some other locals, with me, and with some other westerners on the bus.  Despite the heat and smells, it was  a grand adventure and we were having a splendid time.

As we neared the state of Rajastan, hills seemed to grow from the horizon and soon we were snaking our way through mountain passes.  The Raj, or people of Rajastan have a fierce reputation as warriors and maintained autonomy from the Mughals for many centuries.  Even in the current Indian government they maintain a strong sense of autonomy.  As we entered the state, the mountain fortresses on each hilltop attested to the warlike resolve of these people.  I was quite excited to see these fortifications and I wanted to explore all of them.  In looking at them, it seemed that they were just “some old buildings” to the locals looking by how dilapidated they appeared and the level of modern buildings and telephone wires that sprung up around them.

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