Sitting at a pub

Well I will give my comments do not doubt about my study trip which has opened my eyes in more ways then one.

However I got to describe the sensation of sitting down enjoying a quiet pint at a pub. A rather beautiful pub which I found attached withy hotel.

It feels, homely, quiet, calm and the Guinness goes the extra mile to calm me down to a complete stand still. It has been a long day, lots of walking a sprinkle of a crash course about what is looking to become one of the fastest growing industries in history.

The pub with it's lightening, the Myer of the crowd and the ambiance is lovely.

I understand what is truely one of the most beautiful aspects of this city.

Dublin, your pubs have taken my heart.

posted from Bloggeroid

Bus stops

Bus stops everywhere, and yet not a bus to be seen. This situation is getting to the point of beyond ridiculously ridiculous. I am at a loss on how this country works, and I am even more grateful that I have a bicycle allowing me to get anywhere I need really fast and easy.

Then again I cannot take the bicycle with me into the Cinema, can I. Thus starts my journey to get on a bus.

First thing I realise, what the he'll was going though people's minds when they made the time table?

I understand there being a much smaller demand on Sundays since people staying indoors and or go around in their personal cars.

But wait, so instead of having 3-4 busses passing everywhere hour. Now we have 1 on Sunday's.

The question obviously is then, if the bus actually passes or not from said locations. It can get to a stage where not bus passes for hours or then a huge number of them pass at once.

Why is there this inconsistency in our systems? Who knows, what I know is judging by my friends Facebook walls, judging by the number of students, workers, commuters who complain non stop. Day in day out being heard on the news. Traffic jams starting at 6 am. People waking up earlier and earlier to get to work, school and who knows what else.

Think of all the hours wasted. Think of all the time that is lost? Is that not money? Think about it, if your job pays you 5e an hour and it takes you 1-2 hours to get there and 1-2 hours to get home.

The job would be not just a normal 8 hour shift, it would be a 10-12 hour shift. If you do the maths the lost 4 hours would have been better spent even sleeping rather then on transport.

There I ranted now it's out of my systems....
and yet the bus is still not here!

posted from Bloggeroid

Malta tal-Maltin

MALTA TAL-MALTIN!

KICK OUT ANY INTRUDERS!

KICK OUT ANY IMMIGRANTS!

Shall we start kicking out all those immigrants? Shall we start taking out boat by boat, plane by plane all those who came to this island.

Wait wait, does that mean Joe from down the road who came from America needs to leave as well? Or what about Francesco, the Italian who opened that pastry shop ten years ago? One minute, don't I have some ancestor who comes from Syria, or England.

What makes a Maltese a Maltese? Think about it for a second?

Let's start with our history, Malta's entire history is built on trade, a center of trade in the Mediterranean. That meant sailors, merchants, slaves and all kinds of 'immigration' happened. Creating one of the most culturally diverse places possible in the Mediterranean occurring.

That means, we, the Maltese are actually a conglomeration of centuries of immigration, legal, illegal, forced or other wise. Our genetic code itself is a patch work made up of all possible combinations. This is what happens when one lives at the cross roads of the world.

One of our most famous irregular immigrants. Find a wonderful article about the story of St Paul on Think Magazine.

Now we are yet again the cross roads once more, we are between Africa and Europe. That means wave after wave of irregular immigrants are coming trying to escape the chaos, poverty and war being ravaged in the south. Apart from this, Europe itself is suffering from a gigantic influx of immigrates from the east, with people escaping the war in Syria, and more importantly escaping ISIS.

So, do you really want to keep Malta for the Maltese?

Then tell me, what defines a Maltese person?

Someone who looks and talks in a particularly trashy way. Someone who acts or dresses in a specific manner. Why do I keep periodically see some really close friends and some people I highly respect being trashed on social media?

Why do they get trashed? They get trashed because they have a different skin colour, or belief. They get trashed because they are humans who are different from the norm, but are not scared of being so. Maltese citizens though and though, never had to integrate with our culture but this is their culture. They grew up in Malta, and they know nothing else, they do not have an other culture which they have to integrate into ours, because our culture is theirs.

So please next time that you see someone who slightly divergest from the norm, think twice before telling them to go back home, because it could be right next door to yours.

A fellow citizen of Malta, like you and me.

Water and a bunch of crazy freshers.

This year, I decided to attend the famous Water Fight done by two of the craziest faculties at my university. I went to the side and found two massive water tanks holding the limits of the battle. The objective is simple, find the president of the organisation, and drag them to the other end. It is essentially a tug of war, with two people being beated the crap out of.

The Horde

Well two people...before we get into the end of the story, let us enjoy some details.

The scene is set, then a horde of people shows up, all dressed up in black. War paint on, screaming murder armed to their teeth with water balloons, carrying flags, and while chanting non stop. All this to challenge their mortal enemies the Law students to appear. Who seemingly, and one would understand their reluctance for approaching the architecture students who looked like Daemons, did not want to come out.

The Lawyers Show up.

However they soon came out all clad in white and blue. The 'People of justice', as if you can find an honest laywer BUTTT I digress. Carring a massive banner taunting the architecture students, however as soon as they appeared they were received with the first shots. Huge water pipes were opened, and the massacre started, with a massive push being carried out by SACES who took control of the situation and dived for Nigel, the President of Elsa.

With credit to the President, I have to take my hat off for him. I have never before seen someone so determined to not being carried. He fought non stop, his shirt ended being torn off him, completely drowning in a sea of black. However it was clearly inevitable, the law students tried to make a stand however it was to no avail since they had no idea what was happening.

Thus SACES for an other year took the crown once more.

Honestly, thought, I was unimpressed by one thing.

Free Shower in 3..2..1

I WAS SHOWERED FROM HEAD TO TOE! and I was just standing in the sidelines...

BUT it was a pretty amazing experience!!! Wuhu.!!

Unlikely Friend

I have not had such a pleasure to walk this street.
A street which had become my friend,
Quite, a dear and close friend.

I walked laughing,
I walked crying,
I walked scheming,
I walked dancing,
I walked happy,
I walked sad,
Heartbroken,
In love.

This street has seen me go
Walk home.

Never uttering a word,
Never speaking its mind,

Yet,

Today,
I saluted my old friend,

Met him again after such a long time,
Did not belive what I missed,

Peace and calm,
Washed over the body of mine.

Thinking of a time,
Yet to come.

And a smile creeps to my face,
My raise my head,
Feeling the breeze,
Today I say,
Today new days are coming.

Days which are filled with the unknown.

Days which are filled with the ink of my own imagination.

posted from Bloggeroid

Moon

The moon,
A moody moon,

Slowly hiding,
Rather fading

Clouds of dust,
Dirt and grime

Hit the rays
Of the night.

We sat and watched,
Waited and paced.

Hope

Endlessly for
The moon

To shine yet
Again.

posted from Bloggeroid

Summer, Catacombs and photos.

This should have been written a long time ago, buttttttttttttttttt I never got my hands on the photos that came that day.

So here I am writing with out those sources of inspiration that I had. Hoping that my memory can serve me about the day I had the chance to visit the Catacombs of St Paul for the first time.

Being a tour guide is not easy in Malta, there is simply to much to see. I mean literally every five minutes you will come across something of interest, now be it a 2000 year old ruin, a hastily put together DIY repair being carried out or some random activity happening.

So when I was asked where would be a great place to visit, I pointed towards Mdina, because why not?

Who did  I drag with me

hehehe

he did not enjoy it I promise.

Stikku.

Anyway, so we go to Imdina, meet up with our foreigners, who shall be known from hence forth, camera girl and shadow finder. Why such names, well I think camera girl is easy to explain, anything that can be photographed (I AM WAITING FOR THOSE PHOTOS) has been photographed. While shadow finder, no she is not a fantasy hero, she is simply someone who can find the smallest of shadows and use it to hide against any sun ray possible.

But I digress, so we arrive at Imdina, usual stuff, photos of the walls, on the walls, with the walls. Photos with the cannons, pretty boring stuff really. Yet somehow, I still feel that sense of awe that I get every time I set foot in that place. It is as if I am covered with a blanket of feelings that I cannot explain, the history that place has is immeasurable. The things that happened there, I do not think anyone can ever imagine what passed on inside those walls, rather on the top of that hill.

After that, we still had time to kill, so we start running around Rabat, trying to find a place to visit and see...

that is when we ended at the catacombs of St Paul.

... Imdina Summer 2015 (1/3)