I’ve been to Malta enough times to feel tangibly underwhelmed by the thought of the place. It’s not that I dislike it, it’s just that I can’t imagine there being anything left for me to discover there, any stone that I haven’t overturned, any juice left to squeeze from its fruit, any panoramas that I haven’t… you get the idea.
But these are bad thoughts to think.
They represent a danger to which all travellers are susceptible, and which all travellers should resist with the entirety of their being: complacency. The thought that a place can be ticked off and filed away is nonsense; the world is constantly evolving, and new discoveries are always waiting to be made.
I found myself standing amongst a group of Malta hotels listening to this debate go back and forth between the voices in my head, having flown to the island to attend a cousin’s wedding. I had a couple of days to play with before the ceremony, but very little idea what to do.
I’d never given Gozo as much attention as Malta and Comino, the other islands in Malta’s archipelago, and, after some frantic searching on the MyMaltaInfo website, decided to spend a day wandering aimlessly around its rural flats. Besides, neither had I ever realised the inhabitants are called Gozitans, so I was keen to visit with this amusing knowledge fresh in my mind.
Much to my delight, I found that aimless wandering is exactly what you’re supposed to do on Gozo. I’d only ever headed straight for the sights – Victoria, the Citadella, the Ggantija temples (good luck pronouncing that on your first attempt) etc. – but, in actual fact, it is the countryside for which this flake on the earth’s crust is most revered.
Meadows of irregular polygons cover Gozo like a rich green carpet, thick with brittle grass that sways in a constant breeze, rolling out towards a rugged coastline of craggy inlets and coves. A few scattered hills offer a lookout across an expanse untarnished by urbanisation or overpopulation, a solitary mass against the backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea.
As my eyes digested Gozo and I wallowed in silence but for the rustling agitations of nearby trees in the wind, I realised that moments like this could never grow old or be exhausted. Even if you’ve visited a place one hundred times and feel like you know it inside out, experiences like this can never be ticked off. I decided that I’d take Malta off my ‘done’ list.