Today was our first bike ride. This was notlike our bike ride in Italy where we went from hotel to hotel and they took our luggage from one place to another. Instead, what they are doing here is driving us to a starting spot and we ride from there.
After a breakfast even less inspiring than our dinner last night — the only thing worse than a full English breakfast is a one served from a steam table — a van pulled up with our bikes. I did a quick check to see if John’s bike was the right size, and fortunately it was. I knew that we were not going to have a GPS this year like we did last year, but I was stunned when I asked the bike man about holder for our maps. He looked at me as if I were crazy. “It’s an island,” he said. “You can’t get lost.” I was annoyed.
We were driven to Dingli on the other side of the island from Saint Paul’s Bay. Our driver was not particularly chatty, and was quite happy to discharge us and our bikes right in front of the church.
The directions were not particularly clear, but we finally figured out how to make it to the Dingli cliffs. Riding along this bluff is clearly the major attraction of this route, and it is marked as a cycle route by the Malta government. Apparently there are only a couple of these on the islands. There are still remnants in Malta as a British military outpost including this radar facility. I gather it is now under control of the Maltese military, not, I suspect, a particularly large force.
We stopped to get a water at the Bobbyland restaurant. This is another remnant of Malta’s British days, but it had quite a favorable review in Lonely Planet. They had not yet begun serving lunch, but were happy to let us have some fizzy water and use their wifi.
As we went on, our frustration with the directions that had been provided to us grew. And, because I had no place on my bike to place this flip chart — this is quite standard for bike touring — we had to stop and pull it out of the backpack every time we can to a fork in the road. Had it not been for the Malta bicycle path signs in red behind me, we might still be lost in some barren field.
There were some nice scenic views.
in this Baja like landscape.
At last we arrived in the city of Mgarr. The church dominates the skyline of the town as it does in most small Maltese cities. This one we learned in called the “egg church” because it was build in the 1930’s mostly from the money local people made from keeping chickens and selling eggs.
We were intrigued by this fantasy palace on the outskirts of town. It is not quite as old as it looks, and it is used now for weddings and other special events.
We stopped at a small restaurant opposite the “egg church.” We learned that there was a famous air raid shelter in the basement. But we decided against touring it because it just seemed hot. The food, by the way, was quite good and the portions surprisingly hearty.
After Mgarr we had an occasionally frustrating time crossing to the east side of the island. But when we did so we began to immediately recognize some familiar landmarks. Before we knew it, we were back at the Dolmen hotel. But we had more drama in store here.
The previous evening when we called to complain that the air-conditioning was not working, the desk send a repair man. He agreed that it was not functioning correctly, and the hotel promised to move us while we were on our bike ride. We came back to get our new room only to be told by the head clerk, whose previous job apparently had been with the Hungarian secret police, that she had no knowledge of such a thing. “Who told you this?” she demanded. She went on to tell us that the hotel was full and that there were no rooms. John keeps his composure in these situations and told her that he was sure she could find something. After a bit, she announced she had a new room for us and sent us upstairs with a porter to change rooms. The new room was half the size of our old room and had virtually no view. Again, John did not become belligerent as I would have but simply announced that we would not accept this room. He made a point of saying that we could not possibly accept a room with just one bed, something he knew would be a big deal in this conservative Catholic country. Again, there was a bit of a delay but the senior desk clerk called again and said that we would be given another choice. This one was much better than our first room and was two floor higher up. This allowed us to see the pool and not hear the wretched pop music.
We rested for a bit because not only were we tired from our ride but both of us had been out in the sun for too long. Our initial plan had been to take the bus or a taxi into Valleta for the evening to celebrate my fifty eighth birthday. But as night fell it did not seem like we had enough time.
So we had another less-than-mediocre meal at the buffet and decided to call it a night.
Tomorrow is not a bike day, and we think we will go into Valletta then.
I’m starting to like Malta a little more. But just a little.
