First things first, Red and I were meant to go to Athens to hang out with Chesh. And that would have been an excellent plan except that dates didn’t work, and when we could agree dates, a combination of flight times and hefty prices stood in our way. Essentially, fate kyboshed the idea. So we (probably drunk) thought it would be a great idea to book a weekend to Sweden. Then we sobered up and realised that it probably wouldn’t be warm in May since the one thing we prioritised was the weather. Anyway, I had a Malta guidebook kicking around from a vague plan to head that way last year. I proposed the idea to Red and after a quick google image search result that seemingly pleased her, she was in.
Sure, we had to travel Easyjet, but there are worse things in life. Like, haemorrhoids, tax debts and Ryanair.
So I had to make sure that the hotel made up for the journey. This is Hotel Valentina.
Classy bar area, of course.
Funky reception too.
And, hang on… what? I booked a twin. But they gave us a double. We considered arguing it with reception, but we checked the floor plan on the back of the hotel room door and we did actually have by far the largest room possible. So, since we both packed pyjamas we figured we’d keep it.
Besides, we wanted to get straight to the pool.
But what else has Malta got then eh? A shitload of buildings with these box window things.
And a bunch of gorgeous alleys to meander down.
I won’t lie, a lot of Malta is more shabby than shabby chic. But after a while, its charm gets you.
Especially when they throw in a bar. Drinks in Malta seem to be around 2-3 euros no matter where you go.
After a few rounds, you stagger back on to the streets and they look even more charming.
Kind of addictive after several pints of whatever local shit I was drinking.
This is in Mdina, which is funky, but not cold.
God knows where this is – Mosta? Probably. We flew past it on an open top bus remarking that we should have gotten off and taken a look before realising that the next stop was 30 minutes away.
Right, that’s enough buildings of possibly important stuff that we had no time or inclination to learn about. Oh yes, we are *those* tourists. Not even going to lie about it. I’m a crib notes kind of gal.
Besides, we had to get ourselves to this place. The Blue Lagoon, Comino.
Pretty fucking stunning.
You reach it by any number of tourist boats that will charge you a tidy amount to drop anchor nearby. Our Turkish frigate even gave us lunch and booze for about 40 euros.
Red and I glamming up the Comino scene.
Despite the hoards of others also stopping by, this is by far my favourite place I have visited in a long time.
It made me feel this epic. And that is probably the one and only time you will see a picture of me in a swimsuit.
Did I mention that a can of chilled lager was only 2 euros? For reals.
Eventually it was time to get back on the boat. Ferry. Ship. Frigate. Whatever.
Totally coming back here one day.
Ahoy, me mateys.
If there is one thing Red and I share, it’s a habit of not bearing teeth in a photograph.
Anyway, back to the mainland. This is Balluta Bay in Sliema.
This is in Valletta’s Grand Harbour, full of floating gin palaces. Many were much larger than these, but I didn’t get a shot good enough to put on the blog. Use your imagination.
Elsewhere on the island are places you might care to explore too. Like Marsaxxlok. No, I can’t really pronounce it either. But it’s a great fishing village worth a look on the south side of the island, especially if you head there on a Sunday when they have a market selling all sorts of biscuits, fish and tat.
Since we’d coughed up for the hop on hop off deal, we decided to get decent use of it and headed to the Blue Grotto. We were told it was best explored by boat on calm seas.
The seas on this day however were rough as a badger’s arse, so we had to be satisfied with hiking the hills in flip flops to get a glimpse of what they might contain. Nearly getting blown off the cliff to take a few photos was about all we could manage unfortunately.
So we went back to the calmer waters of the hotel and ordered some swanky 5 euro cocktails. Fancy.
There are hundreds of places to get a decent meal in Malta – St Julian’s in particular where we concentrated our feeding habits, makes it almost impossible to go wrong. I say almost – a sub-standard pasta on the final night proved that it was indeed possible. Italian is very much the common theme – being 90km from Sicily, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. Beware though, it’s probably the best Italian food you’ve ever had. Proof by the fact I hoovered everything before either of us could get a photo.
And gelato. This place has the best flavours of anywhere I have been. White chocolate and rice crispies for example. Oh yeah, that happened. Plus, it’s open pretty late; there was a queue out the door at midnight. Perfect way to end the evening.
And that concludes the Girls Gone Mild Tour. It’s what happens when two girls in their thirties have no kids, a credit card and nothing better to do on a long weekend.
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