A Few (or more than a few) Cultural Experiences

Yes, I know it’s been a while since I did a little blogging. There is a good deal I could talk about too. I feel like I've been involved in a lot of Maltese cultural experiences lately...

Cultural experience #1: A while back an archeologist, who has connections to the University, gave us a lecture on Malta's pre-history, and then took us on a field trip to the Tarxien Temples. Their remains are from the Neolithic Period, and so were built between 3000-3600 BC. This makes them about 5,000 years old, and the oldest free-standing structure in the world!(...Oh geez. I just re-read the last few sentences, and I'm thinkin I'm starting to sound like a tour-guide...I guess this just shows you how much my realm of knowledge has expanded since I've been here...) Anyway, this makes these temples older than Stone Hinge and older than the Pyramids...pretty crazy huh? Several areas of these temples have been restored, and some parts with lots of detail have been taken to the Museum of Archeology in Valetta--but there was definitely still a lot of original 5,000-yr old rock goin-on.

After this trip, we went to a site called Borg in Nadur. This was the site of an ancient village from the Bronze Age period (so, sometime between 1500-700 BC). I absolutely LOVED visiting this place. For one thing, nearby there was an amazing view of the sea. Secondly, it was so GREEN!! We don't see a lot of that in Sliema where we live. It was sunny, yellow flowers were blooming, cactus was growing all over the place, and there were green hills dotted with ancient stones all around us. I didn't want to leave.

#2: Then, a few Sundays ago I took a bus into Valetta with two other girls from my flat. We went actually went to the Museum of Archeology where all the missing original pieces were from the Tarxien Temples--in addition, there was lots of other ancient pottery, sculptures, and jewelry. It was neat to see all of that stuff after we had been given the background information for it all. That night after finding a cute, cheap place to eat, we met up with some other people from our group and saw a play called, Mercury Fur. It was a really dark play, but I thought it had a good message, and it was a neat experience--especially from a cultural view-point. We had a good discussion about the play with a guy on the bus on the way back home--I was proud when he began to realize that, even though we were young, we were fully capable of contributing to an intelligent discussion.

#3: The next week we went on another field trip to "the ancient city" of Mdina, and also to the nearby city of Rabat. Mdina is one of the oldest founded cities in Malta. I thought the most interesting part of the city was its oldest wall that visibly shows the three different time periods of the city. In Rabat we saw lots of ancient things--including some catacombs. In case you aren't quite sure what catacombs are (because, I had no idea)--they are underground burial tombs. There were soooo many of them at this site and the walkways wound in all sorts of directions. Many people from our group thought these were creepy, but I thought they were super neat--it had a Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets/Flintstones feel to it all (it was all made of rock). It was really incredible to think that people had dug out all of these tombs, and that they were all filled with the dead at one point. I feel like people went to great extents to honor their dead during this time. While I was exploring around down there, and finding my way by the light of the electric torches, I was just thinkin--back in ancient times, if your torch went out, you'd be stuck underground in the dark with dead people. I don't know about you, but I'm not sure that's a risk I would've been brave enough to take...

#4-6: A few more Maltese experiences to note: ate a boat-load of Maltese figolla (double- decker cookie with sweet almond-paste in-between and frosting on top--a traditional holiday sweet), ate a traditional Maltese "honey"-ring (but it didn't have honey in any of the ingredients), and went to St. Paul's Festa in the streets. Now, let me tell you a little bit about this festa-deal: We learned recently that every parish in Malta has a saint that they honor, and every saint has a day--so, basically, there is a lot of celebrating that goes on here. This was a celebration of the shipwreck of St. Paul. Yes, they do celebrate a shipwreck--kind of backwards, I know--but it is said to be the day that Paul got washed onto Malta and performed a few miracles (just as it says in the Bible).

As we walked to St. Paul's Cathedral with Michael Vella (this cute, little, very knowledgeable, old-guy, who was our guide for the night) we passed through streets decorated with red banners and green draperies. Then, we turned onto the street that the cathedral was on: confetti covered the ground, the bell in the tower was ringing, and people were beginning to fill the area. Mr. Vella finished explaining the history behind some of the things within the Cathedral —such as the super old wooden statue of St. Paul and the case that was said to hold his wrist bone--just in time for the procession.

The procession was amazing. I was so happy we were there to be a part of all the action. People were singing, bells were tolling, fireworks were going off, confetti was falling, a band was playing, news cameras were rolling, and people were everywhere (filling at least two blocks of this street, as well as the balconies of apartments) while the procession filed out of the church--St. Paul's wrist bone and all. It was quite the event. After this, the whole parade (St. Paul's statue, the clergymen of the church, the altar boys) proceeded on throughout the town for an hour or so and eventually stopped at the center to have a ceremony. Mr. Vella tried to make it clear that traditions such as these are not merely a “spectacle” —even though it is a celebration, it also holds true and serious religious value/meaning for many of the people celebrating. This was a good reminder for me not to look at the festival from a tourist point of view—but instead from the eyes of a these people.

We could tell when the whole event was over because all the little altar boys, who had probably had been itching to get away for several hours, began running through the streets in their white gowns. You could just hear them yelling "We're free! We're free!". Afterwards a few of us had a fun time playing in the confetti on the streets with the little kids. There was so much of it on one street that a few kids had actually started building a fort out of the stuff. It was SO neat! I wanted to stay and play in it the rest of the night--but, unfortunately we had to go.

Anyway, now I have truly written a novel, but, at least you're caught up on a few of my recent Maltese cultural experiences. Maybe somebody reading will even feel like they're a more cultured person for reading this post on me feeling more cultured.

Learning to Teach

Well, as promised, I am going to describe my experiences this far with the refugees at the Marsa Open Centre in Malta. First of all, if you need a little background information, here are a few video clips and some reports that can give you a little bit of a grasp on the situation.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19227137/?story=waystation
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19227137/?story=village

Yep. This is tricky stuff right here, folks. Although, you know...these video clips make this out to be a pretty desolate situation--but, the way I see it, and the way it feels most of the refugees see it--there is hope for these people. They have not come this far, just to let go of their dreams.

Last Wednesday we were given a tour of the Centre, and introduced to one of the head directors of this named Terry. Man--that guy has a lot of guts. He agreed to take this position to help run the Centre even though many people from his home country (England) thought he was (and still think he is) crazy. Not to mention he, and everyone else who work there, barely receive any money at all--it is a government-funded program. The way that he described the development of the Centre was truly incredible. All it took was one refugee with a dream to make something of himself. One little shop opened up, then another, and another--until a whole "make-shift" village was underway. Terry said that it's been important for him to look at this village and this situation from an insider's point-of-view. He said, from an outside vantage-point this could all be seen as "a load of crap"--but, to these people, it is a start, and it is progress. This is what keeps him and the rest of the Centre going--and this is what I think is so beautiful about the whole village.

Anyway, we didn't actually get to work with the refugees until this week. I will admit: I was nervous. Before we left last Wednesday Terry told us that most of the refugees at the camp had probably already been reading us like a book, and they probably already had their minds made up about each one of us. He explained that most of them have been through more trauma and hardship than we could ever imagine--being able to read people has become a means of survival. Whoa...was I ready for this?? But Terry did give us a great piece of advice that somewhat calmed my fears. Our best learning opportunities would be found though listening and though looking inside the hearts and minds of these people--put the learning in their hands, he said, and our classes would teach themselves. As a future educator, I thought: 'That's one to carry-along in the suitcase of knowledge'...

Then, the time came: it was the day we would begin teaching English to these refugees from all over North Africa. We passed a 'Blacks Out' sign graffitied on a wall as our bus neared the Centre. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer. We got off the bus, and people from The Centre talked, pointed, and smiled at us as we walked to the building where we would be teaching. Deep breath: I can do this.

Terry was right about everything. We didn't come in with lesson plans and there weren't a lot of learning materials available--but it worked. They were just so eager to learn English that anything we could teach them was considered a gift--although, I do feel the gift-giving goes both ways.

During this first session, I worked with one younger man almost the whole time. It was hard to understand his name, and I couldn't really pronounce the name of his country very well--but I really enjoyed working with him. He had a pretty good base of English, and once I discovered this, we talked about many things: where we were from, our interests, colors, fruits and vegetables, jobs, sports, writing a letter...One interesting experience I have to mention took place while we were going over colors. I mentioned purple, green, etc.--and we came to black. He knew exactly what this was, and indicated by saying "Ah", nodding, and pointing to his skin: "black". Something hit me straight in the heart. He was certainly familiar with this word. "Yes", I nodded. Then I pointed to my skin regrettably: "--and, white". I hated that this was how things had to be distinguished, so I quickly added, "--but it doesn't matter!", hoping with all my might that he would understand what I was trying to tell him. He smiled and shook his head right away saying "No, no" and got out some broken sentence to the effect of: "this why you teach English and I learn". I breathed an inner sigh of relief. I knew. He knew. We understood each other.

I am excited that this is just the beginning of our time with the people at the Marsa Open Centre. After only being there for a few hours the past two Wednesdays I already feel like I've taken in soo much. I just hope I can help the refugees in the way that they want to be helped. One thing I can tell you right now though: I have already learned a whole lot--and I know it's just going to continue...

Bring on the Rain

The clouds finally opened up today and showered us with cold Mediterranean rain-drops. First rain since we've been here. There is something to be said about a good hard rain...I don't know exactly the right words to describe it. Soothing? Cozy? Today I'd say it was refreshing--almost revitalizing.

We got out of class at noon and made it back to our flat just as the wind began to push us around and a mist of sprinkles began to swirl around us. I decided that this would be a perfect time to walk into town. While sludging down a main street of Sliema, getting completely soaked, holding onto my hat, and hunching over from a bulging backpack filled with information for my first paper--I could not have been more content. The waves across the road crashed against the rocks and the air permeated with the smell of seawater--it was all so...ALIVE. Then I found the perfect coffee shop: "Cafe Ole"--soo cute and cozy, and perfect for a rainy day. It was just a feel-good afternoon. Then, once I got back--hat sopping, jacket drenched, jeans soaked, shoes real wet--I made the decision that this wasn't enough. I grabbed my friend Tim and we went for a run. The wind and rain continued...

You know, after I complete a day like that, I feel really accomplished. Not only did I brave nature's ravenous conditions, but I enjoyed it to the fullest. What a blast.

The Classroom and Beyond

Well, we are nearing the end of our first week of classes. I am glad to be adding some routine to my life again. I really have enjoyed most of the classes we have had, and I really do like the professors that we have had so far--although, they are a little difficult to understand sometimes because of the accent. The joys of being an international student...

While we began to acquire information on the history of the Maltese language and religion, we were also given some background on the refugee situation here--which I had heard about before I came, but didn't really understand. More on this later.

We also have been able to celebrate the last few days of their pre-Lent Carnival, or, " il Karnival", as they say it here (As I learned in my language class, this came from "Carne"/"flesh" or "meat" and "vale"/"allowed"--so it is like saying "meat-eating allowed"). Valetta is where Malta has all their festivities during this time. On Sunday we went there in order to catch a glimpse of the floats in the parade, the costumes, and to soak in all the fun that was taking place. Their floats were humongous, and all sorts of bright gaudy colors. Think highlighter--that'll give you a picture. Our language professor told us that some people who make the floats will burn them right before Lent, but will start making them for the next year the day after Lent is over.

It was extremely crowded on the streets--wait, scratch that: it was beyond extremely crowded. We could not move at one point. Now, let me explain one cultural difference about the Maltese people: personal bubbles don't exactly exist like they do in the United States. People will push and elbow and practically knock you over if they want to get past and you are in their way. They think nothing of it. In the United States, this would be a great way to get yourself beat-up. This culture difference made all of us from our group somewhat uncomfortable, and the pushing plus the crowdedness made trying to get to the bus-stop through a narrow street entry-way very difficult.

Other than that, though, it was a whole lot of fun. Just like in Gozo people (young and old) were wearing costumes and dancing in the streets--they even had a few marching bands playing.The celebrating wasn't up yet. Fat Tuesday was just around the corner, and of course that meant...pancakes!! So...ok, it actually meant that a group of us went to a Eucharist service at the cathedral down the street, and we got to eat pancakes with the church-members, afterwards. It was a nice little service--although, very reserved and formal. Who would have thought that the members of the church were actually the complete opposite!? During the pancake feed we met some of the congregation, and they were some of the nicest most welcoming people I've ever met. There was nothing reserved about them at all! Soo much expression in everything they have to say (and most of this in a British accent). I loved it. We had the best time shoveling our mouths full of pancakes and introducing ourselves to the people. In case you are curious about the pancake differences: theirs are more like crepes, and, instead of syrup, they top them with honey and/or "golden spread" (kind of like a jellied honey). Very delicious. I had about 4 or 5.

We actually came back to Valetta on Tuesday for class, so, afterwards, we got to catch some final Karnival celebrations in the streets. It wasn't nearly as crowded, but, we were a little early for the grand finale events that would be starting later. We did, however, get to try a type of traditional cake that our language professor recommended. It was called: "prinjolata" and had a meringue and peanut outer coating on top of cake mixed with dried fruit, chocolate, crème, and who knows what else, underneath. VERY sweet--but I highly recommend (in small portions...went a little overboard I think).

Well, that is where I stop for now. More about the refugee open-center another time...stay "posted"...ahaha...get it? K. I'm out.
Posted by Elise at 1:35 PM

Let's Gozo!!

Oh man...I am just chuckling to myself about the title of this blog post. I can't exactly take credit though, since it was the title of a Gozo-ad. Anyway...so, Malta and flat #13 are starting to feel a little bit more like home. I know what a blood-orange looks like--and, most importantly, what one tastes like (which, is pretty much indescribable, but I’ll try: a burst of tangy juicy citrusy goodness that, if dribbled on your shirt, might stain it red unless taken care of right at that very moment); I have eaten my first piece of Tiramisu at a cute restaurant down-town called Cara's; I have begun to familiarize myself with the area in town and by the sea; I have done my first load of laundry in the tiny washer and hung it on the roof to dry; and, lastly, I have finally felt completely settled-in to my room now that my mementos from home make a nice collage on my half of the closet.

We actually didn't have too long to settle-in before we set off for Gozo--which is a little island next to Malta. The area has been having festivals all weekend to get the most out of this time before Lent--Gozo, we discovered, is a prime festival location. Friday afternoon we took a van out to a ferry. The drive out there was absolutely gorgeous. Around the city of Sliema, there's some green here and there, some palm-trees and a few flowers...but, out there, it was all rocky rolling green hills (along with some ancient limestone buildings). The ferry was way bigger than I ever expected any ferry to be--but the view was beautiful from it. Someone pointed out The Blue Lagoon to me in the distance. It's on the edge of another small island. People say that those waters are unbelievably blue...maybe that will be on the to-do list.

The beauty didn't stop once we got to Gozo. If anything, it just got better. The island full of hilly rocky green-ness. Our hotel (which I'll describe in a minute) sat on a hill with an amazing view of the sea and the island. Across the road and down below was a plot of private land and someone’s amazing garden. I couldn't quite tell what they were growing, but, they had planted a type of cactus next to each sprout--for protection, I guess? Pretty innovative, I thought.

Now, back to that hotel. First of all, it was called "The Grand Hotel" if that tells you anything. The rooms fit four of us and there was still tons of room to spare--not to mention each room had a balcony over-looking the sea. Then, there was the free dinner and breakfast that was not like any hotel food I've ever eaten. Feasts--that's what they were. To any Luther people I'd say the breakfast even went a step above Peace Dining if that gives you any kind of a gage. I felt un-worthy (but of course got my fill).

The rest of that afternoon didn't go exactly how we had originally planned. We had wanted to take two different buses to the beach, but we had to wait so long for the first bus that we just decided to stay at the first stop: Victoria. You know, it was kind of a run-down little town to tell you the truth--but, it did not hold run-down people. The locals seemed to be in pretty good spirits. We found a rusty little park, a humane society, and a place to buy some gummy-candy. Then, it was time to head back. Well, we had our feast of a dinner and then got ready for the festival in the streets.

We got there about 8:15 or so, and, really, there wasn't a whole lot of action goin on in those streets--but, the later it got, the livelier it became. We talked to someone who said the best time to be there was about midnight. He said that even little kids stay out for the festivities until they are over (which was about 3 AM). Around 10 things were just crazy and exciting on that street. A live band played at the very start of the street; people, young and old, paraded back and forth in costumes or pushing home-made floats--many very creative (a group of people were tourists: big bellies, hiked-up socks and pants, passports hanging around the neck, tons of stuff in a backpack) People were eating, laughing, dancing, drinking. It was a happenin place--and we were in the middle of it all! What a great cultural experience. No better way to learn about a culture than to be right smack in the center of a traditional celebration. One of the best parts was that it wasn’t really a tourist attraction--most people there were locals (except for us, I guess). It was a fun night.

The next morning was great too. After the wonderful breakfast a group of us went exploring. We walked up a lot of stairs in the side of a clif to a church on a hill. The view from up there was amazing, and while exploring around the church an old man let us see the inside. It was one of the tiniest little churches I've ever seen--but so pretty inside! A few of us walked over the hill on a little path to the edge of a town nearby. On the rest of the walk we admired the plant (cactus and numerous flowers) and animal (snail) -life around the area. It was fun to become familiarized with some of the natural life on the island--although, I'm not sure what most of it was called. I collected some pretty snail shells and a cactus branch from the walk. The cactus isn't really prickly, but it is really thick--kind of a rounded scoop-shape that has been perfect for holding some things on my nightstand. We'll see if it starts to rot. After a while it was time to head back on the ferry to Malta. It was sad to leave Gozo, but, strangely enough Malta and the flats were starting to feel a little homey and welcoming.

Also, I've decided that I love grocery shopping--especially, in a little place like this where you can walk to the store and there is a wide selection of fresh fruits and vegetables. Since the stove-incident (when glass infested my whole bag of freshly opened pasta and pasta sauce) I was definitely in need of some food supplies, so we had another grocery excursion today. You'll be happy to heat that my food making experience was definitely more successful the second time around. I was actually very proud of an egg-plant, tomato, orange and red pepper with pasta sauce on pita bread-creation that I made at dinner.

Well, I guess that's it for now. Tomorrow I think I am going to check-out the Anglican Church; and the next day: school!! Oh geez...it feels like it's been a while. I'm kind of excited--is that strange?