We were on an overcrowded bus on our way to Cirkewwa and then onwards by ferry to Gozo of which we expected great things. At least we had a seat on the bus. On the ferry we took up a position on the top deck in the port corner up forward where for the duration of the crossing one was constantly knocked about by Japanese tourists who needed my exact spot to take a photo, first with a very expensive dSLR, then a smaller point and shoot and finally a bit of video on a phone.
Arriving at Mgarr, Gozo, they piled on to waiting open top double decker sightseeing buses and melted away. After noticing a pair of Aruns moored up near the ferry terminal we too took a bus, a public one to Victoria, the capital. Inspiring it was not. Rough and jerky it most certainly was. On arrival in Victoria we boarded another bus for Xlingi which by all accounts was a nice little fishing village.
Indeed, it may have appeared thus if the observer making the judgement assumed that an empty tiny inlet and a car park with some boats wrapped in tarpaulins constituted a fishing village. Furthermore it appeared that the village itself was also closed. At least it appeared that way. We stayed on the bus and within 15 minutes were despairingly back in Victoria bus station. It's not pretty.
Over the road between a Kodak shop and a FujiFilm shop was a coffee shop. Nice photos on the wall but the coffee was poor although at least there was no piped music. Then there was so we went for a wander.
Like so many places where there's people there's crowds and I feel the need to get away from them. We did and wandering about the pristine cobbled backstreets, almost all named after St.Gorg we met Valerie in The Hat Box.hatsbyvalerie@gmail.com if you are going to meet The Queen or if your daughter is getting married any time soon.
She's English and her daughter had just phoned to say that she was cold. Oh, dear, we exclaimed and she carried on telling me about her hats and the inspiration she derives from all manner of sources. I had to prise myself away after having taken a photo as she is extremely enthusiastic. Even though I don't find millinery in any way a compelling subject I must confess that the quality of her hats was a bit good but they wouldn't keep your hair dry in a shower.
By now the lunchtime grumble had arrived and we had a choice between a German burger bar in white and black plastic seemingly populated by Brits, The Glory of England Bar hiding in plain view under a pair of Coke banners or an Italian Breakfast bar, Capitan Spriss, frequented by a couple of very well spoken Brits, a stack of Germans and us.Utterly superb. A delight and including drinks about €10. Cured ham, soft squidgy cheese and thin cut mushrooms in a still warm crispy baguette. Awesome. Haven't had ham like that since Spain.
The place had no plastic and exuded stylish class in a simple kind of way. You needed to be a bit slimmer than me in an ideal world but we started in the narrow seats and moved as others became vacated so eventually we had window seats and made the most of them. As we left I took this photo of a German trio in high spirits which pretty much summed up how we felt after our lunch, too. I suppose they may have been glad to see us go, though.
When a bus ticket is sold on time and not distance travelled it's often worth taking the scenic route because the tourists always go for the most direct and spend all their times in a queue and then most will have to stand in the bus. We took a sparsely peopled bus which went everywhere, at least it felt like it. How it navigated some bends is beyond me and as for the suspension, it was tormented on tracks that a 4x4 would find interesting. At one point we got to the top of a cliff where a tiny track descended steeper by far than Windsor Hill. Longer, too.Fortunately we turned around eventually and retraced our wheels for an age and eventually arrived back in Mgarr.
I decline to offer any details on the ex-RNLI Arun Class lifeboats, nor do I publish any photos, although I have a few, but in my search for the harbour office I met the man rebuilding this boat. The man who's workshop it is built it over 50 years ago with his dad and in the harbour is its sister made 100 years ago by his father and his grandfather. They can't make any more as iroko is too expensive and what they can get is of such poor quality that it's no good for boats except in their repair. He told me that the Arun's are owned by Capt.Eduardo who is a ferry skipper. Couldn't find him. May have to go back.
Finally, making our way back to the ferry we noticed a man taking his horse for a swim. Not something you see everyday, you don't see a pair of Aruns everyday either but some things are more acceptable than others, it seems. So, a picture of a man taking his horse for a swim.A thoroughly beautiful day marred only by the bus trip outward and half the bus trip homeward. Although we got a seat from Cirkewwa so did a couple behind us. They were northern, like Hilda Ogden. She just didn't stop. Everything was wrong. Whenever the buzzer button was pressed she told her husband, us and everyone else. Mostly it was pressed by accident as the bus was bursting with people. That didn't stop her telling everyone, though. If no one got off she complained even louder. We passed a Pulizija station and she said, Ooooh, luuuke, neenaw neenaw ....." until the bus had moved quite a way past. Then we were regaled by tales of how so much of it luuuked a bit taaaatty and how much it could do with a coat of paint. On and on she went until, praise be, they alighted in the region of St.Paul's Bay/Qawra where a quiet lady took her place and all was relaxed from then on.
Gozo was not what we expected, it's not a pretty place and we saw it in its warm and sunny best, it does have a certain charm and the back streets of Victoria are well worth an explore. It also has a pair of Aruns owned by a ferry captain.
At least you probably wouldn't find them in Capitan Spriss's but I'm not so sure about The Glory of England Bar opposite.
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