The Global "Z": A Trip to Malta, Paris Cooling Off

To begin, I'd like to give you some context: I am sitting on my balcony in Paris, which looks into some trees that thankfully block the view of the apartment building next door. Not that it's ugly, but it's nice to look at green instead of concrete.

I'm sitting on a brand new plastic wicker chair with a maroon cushion on it. Next to me is a little table with a mosaic-glass top, glinting in the morning sun. It's about 8am on a Sunday. To my left is a tall, leaning plant, a sort of little ferny palm kind of thing. One of the stalks leans dangerously, and I've turned it so that it rests on the balcony railing. To my right is a hammock hanging in its stand, with two large potted plants in front of it. It's a very pleasant balcony, with a pleasant view, and there's a pleasant chill in the air.

On the glinting mosaic table, there is a tall drinking glass filled with a chunky green liquid. It is the result of big ambition and little planning. Deciding that my diet was sadly lacking in fruits and vegetables, I researched juicing recipes yesterday and went shopping for seven days worth of juices. In Mali, a friend had sold me his juicer and the results were refreshing and healthy and fresh: three things that weren't necessarily staples there. Anyway, I brought the juicer with me to Paris.

Well, most of it. Turns out there is one small but critical piece missing. I didn't figure that out until this morning, of course, after having bought all the little ingredients, the greens and the fruits and the vegetables, and dreaming about the concoction that would fill me with good things. Reordering the part is possible, and I did so: but $24 and 3 weeks of waiting does not help me in the moment. I check the internet and it assures me: a blender will work fine. All one needs is cheesecloth to strain the blended muck into.

Not surprisingly, I lack cheesecloth.

So here I am, on my all-around pleasant balcony, chewing my breakfast juice. It's not bad: celery, parsley, spinach, pear, lemon, and water to thin it out a bit.

That's my morning context for you. As I chew thoughtfully, it seems like a great idea to think of my last weekend, which was spent in Malta with friends.

Malta

Malta is made of of one large island and a few smaller ones. Parts of it have been the backdrop for many movies and TV series. There's a medieval touch to some of the cities, like Mdina (pronounced um-dee-na). It reminded me a bit of Dubrovnik, with the smooth stone walls and alleys. On the other hand, in the more modern areas, progress has decreed that one must build, build, build. The friends I was visiting - we shall call them C and R - live on the third floor of an apartment building smashed between two other buildings. Their apartment contains a long hallway that connects the kitchen to each of the five or six rooms of the apartment: two bedrooms, one storage room, a bathroom, an alcove with a view to the wall of the building next door, and an office. It's a very long hallway.

The apartment is bright and sparkly: at one end of the hallway is the living room, which has glass doors leading to a balcony overlooking the bay and looking onto Valetta. The apartment floor is made completely of shiny tile. C and R have decorated nicely, so that it feels roomy and calm and comfortable.

My weekend in Malta was short, just Friday to Monday. In that time, though, I was able to go to a beach, visit an old city, ride an electric scooter down the street, eat dinner in town, catch up with friends and go sailing for a day in lovely blue waters. Here, take a look at a photographic recap of the weekend: