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The
best in the Med —
bar none It’s
opulent, aromatic and has a waterfront watering hole to die for.
Douglas
Kennedy of The Sunday Times
goes gaga for Gozo
On
my first afternoon in Malta, I drank too
much white wine. The wine in question was a wonderful local chardonnay
with the
mythological name Isis, and four glasses of the stuff left me feeling
pleasantly tipsy. So much so that, when I emerged from
Valletta’s best
restaurant, Rubino, I found myself blinking into the afternoon sun
while the
following slurred thought coursed through my brain: I am standing in a
truly
beautiful street. The
thoroughfare in question has the unromantic name of Old Bakery Street,
and it
cleaves a narrow path through the heart of the Maltese capital. There
are
overhanging balconies, venerable shop fronts and the occasional baroque
decorative flourish to be spotted among the stone facades. More
tellingly, if
you stand in the middle of the street and look downwards, you can see
that it
dead-ends in that azure-blue smudge known as the Mediterranean Sea. Indeed,
for anyone who has been led to believe that Malta is nothing more than
a
heavily anglicised holiday resort — noted for its
breeze-block hotels and its
“Eastbourne in the sun” atmosphere —
Valletta comes as a big surprise. With
labyrinthine Neapolitan backstreets, great ecclesiastical monuments
celebrating
the triumphs of Maltese knights over assorted infidels, grand
processional
boulevards, baroque inner harbours and the omnipresent sense of the sea
at the
end of every street, Valletta is an overlooked gem. But
if there is one corner of this island republic that truly emphasises
its
distinctiveness — not to mention its architectural
extravagance — it is Gozo, a
small outcropping of land just four miles off the coast of Malta. To
get there,
you can hop into a helicopter at Valletta airport, or jump in a cab for
about
£15 and be driven for one hour down Malta’s
serpentine shoreline until you
reach the port of Cirkewwa, from which a car ferry sails every 45
minutes. Twenty
minutes later, land reappears in the form of a wildly imposing harbour.
Immediately, you note that this isn’t some St Tropez port of
luxury yachts and
other beau-monde vessels. Rather, it’s a working harbour
called Mgarr (pronounced
“Im-Jar”), replete with fishing boats, tugs and a
small customs house. As your
eye moves upwards, you see that the port has its own sense of visual
drama — it
lies at the bottom of a steep hill, upon which sits an enormous church.
As
I was to discover, this is one of 50 churches on this island of a mere
25,000
souls. I was also to discover that the Venetian-style architecture so
much on
display in Valletta is prevalent everywhere on Gozo too; and that the
other
great visual feature of Mgarr — a tavern with a most Scottish
name, Gleneagles,
and a terrace affording a widescreen view of the sea — might
just be one of the
great unknown bars of the world. My
first shipside glimpse of Gozo immediately hinted at the fact that this
is no
ordinary, overdeveloped, gimcrack holiday island of the type now so
common in
Greece. But within a day of arriving there, I had reached another, more
sweeping conclusion: Gozo is unique. What
gives this small (10 miles by 10) rocky island its dramatic
singularity? As any
resident will tell you, this is a place apart. For though it might be
legally
Maltese, it considers itself, first and foremost, Gozitan — a
small,
exceedingly united community that, while living on an island with its
architectural feet firmly in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, has
cannily
managed to adjust to the complexities of modern life with grace and
ease. AT
FIRST sight, Gozo really does seem rooted in another epoch. Perhaps
this has
something to do with its scenic style. Though the island can turn lush
after a
rare downpour, there is more than a hint of rocky aridity to the
landscape.
Weave your way along its narrow, frequently rutted roads, and you will
quickly
discover that the large patches of agrarian green that dot the
territory are
generally subsumed by craggy, dry terrain — as befits an
island wedged between
Sicily and the deserts of North Africa. But
what is most intriguing about Gozo’s topography is its quirky
diversity. Drive
to an area called Dwejra and you will find yourself reaching a
cliff-top
precipice, overlooking the ultimate in picture-postcard blue lagoons.
Turn your
car around, however, and drive 40 minutes across the island, and
you’ll happen
upon the outskirts of the village of Qala, negotiating an
ever-narrowing path
that climbs steeply up a rocky hillside. Once again, you’re
afforded a seascape
of epic sweep, but on this side of the island, the scenic orientation
is more
stony and barren — a hint of the sort of austere grandeur you
can find on the
Aran Islands of Ireland. In
fact, the Irish analogy is an appropriate one — for in terms
of size,
character, Catholicism and global outlook, Gozo often makes you believe
that
you have ended up in a sunstruck Connemara, with much better
ecclesiastical
architecture. Thankfully,
the Catholicism practised on Gozo is not the same breed of ascetic,
hyper-strict, hell-and-damnation Jan- senism still so prevalent in
Ireland. On
the contrary, Gozo’s extravagant churches and cathedrals are
brimming with
wonderfully opulent flourishes, liberal use of gold leaf and ornate
domes, and
a belief in the heady, aromatic sensuality of incense. Attend mass at
any of
the island’s great churches, and you will be impressed not
only by the sheer
rococo flamboyance, but by the Gozitan belief that high church is also
high
theatre. This
exuberance extends into the realm of civic architecture. The
island’s capital,
Victoria, is a small-scale version of Valletta, its main thoroughfare a
riotous
melange of Italianate building styles. It also has a knotty web of
backstreets
and constricted alleyways, along which you can find elaborate town
houses, or
the sort of venerable coffee merchants who still display their beans in
vast,
oversized sacks, or entire shops dedicated to such arcana as lace. Granted,
you’ll come across internet cafes in the same area; just as,
on the outskirts
of Victoria, there is a small shopping centre with a
McDonald’s on the ground
floor. But one of the most intriguing things about Gozo is the way it
has been
able to balance these two worlds with aplomb. Though
just about everyone over the age of 15 has a mobile phone —
and the highly
educated adolescent population revels in the same teenybopper culture
you’ll
find anywhere else — the Gozitans have been shrewd about not
turning their
island into the sort of holiday playground that characterises so much
of the
Maltese coast.Though there is one holiday village, Marsalforn, it is
tucked
away from view. Otherwise, accommodation is limited to three five-star
hotels
(one of which, the Kempinski, is a model of upscale discretion, and
blends
perfectly with the island’s visual style), a few moderately
priced hostelries
and a large number of traditional yet modernised farmhouses for rent. In
short, Gozo remains one of those rare “places in the
sun” that has managed to
retain its integrity while being open to the outside world.
It’s a delicate
balancing act — and one that has allowed the community
quietly to assert its
own identity while being gracious to those who wash up on its shores
for a
fortnight’s holiday. You
never get the feeling in Gozo that you are in a place where touristic
demands
supersede the life of the local populace. On the contrary, the
island’s
hospitable nature is predicated, in part, on the fact that it has
remained (so
to speak) its own man — that it has put its needs first and
foremost, and
hasn’t compromised itself for mercantile gain. And
having since become something of a Gozitan habitué, I can
also vouch for the
fact that this is an island where, by the time you’ve
patronised a shop for the
second time, the owner knows your name and those of your children.
It’s also
one of the few places I’ve encountered where a rigorous code
of honesty informs
all business dealings (because, as one contractor informed me:
“If I cheat you,
not only will everyone in the island know about it, but it will make
all of us
look bad”). And
then there is the Gleneagles, the ultimate in waterfront bars, replete
with
taxidermied fish on the walls, rough-hewn wood floors and the sort of
atmosphere that (to descend into the realm of copywriter cant) could
best be
described as “salty dog” — though the
only real salty dogs there are the
resident four-legged mutts, Hannah and Elsa, who skulk around the legs
of the
clientele. “Been
away, Douglas?”, the owner of Gleneagles asked me when I last
popped in there,
then added: “Same as usual?” Now do understand:
I’d patronised this bar only
twice before, but I was already considered a regular. But
that’s Gozo: an
island that doesn’t have to broadcast its allure to the
world, but that is
pleased to discover you have succumbed to its addictive charms. And sitting on the terrace of Gleneagles — looking out at the vertiginous sweep of the harbour, the craggy reach of the coastline, the interplay of light on a perfectly still Mediter- ranean Sea, the thought also struck me: as bar views go, this is about as good as it gets. The Guardian After
an active week
exploring Gozo and Comino, I am left with a host of rich impressions. I
can
picture two small but stocky sun-blushed Maltese islands with sheer
cream
cliffs and intricately sculpted shores. I remember Gozo's ubiquitous
big-domed
churches - 50 among a population of just under 30,000 - and my first
sight of
the world's oldest surviving man-made structure - the Ggantija temples,
dating
to 3,600BC - standing on a high ridge on the island. I also recall cycling along
hillsides full of olive groves, citrus trees and caper bushes on Gozo
and
bursts of fragrant wild thyme as we hike among Comino's stony slopes,
on a cloudless
day. Finally, I remember being mesmerised by the rhythmic pouring of
oil onto
my forehead during an Ayurvedic massage treatment at the Hotel
Kempinski on
Gozo. But what I will never
forget is
the colour of the sea that surrounds these islands. Gathering in the
coves and
inlets and bays that it has shaped around Gozo and Comino, the intense
hues of
the southern Mediterranean leave an indelible imprint on your memory. This is particularly true
of
Comino's "Blue Lagoon". The first time that we see it is on the
short, choppy ferry trip to Gozo from Malta. As the boat rides the
white caps,
we give its limpid waters a longing sideways glance. The next day, we
see it
again, this time from the lofty perch of the citadel above Gozo's
capital
Victoria, a distant but inviting turquoise smudge in an inky ocean. By our third morning we are
on a
fishing boat skimming over a deep, blue-black sea toward it. Rounding a
rock
face we see it clearly for the first time, framed by a shoreline full
of arches
and caves. The appellation "Blue" just will not do. You need to reach
for the thesaurus to do it justice. On this sunny morning, its rippling
waters
undisturbed by other boats or people, it appears diaphanous,
opalescent, even
incandescent. As we disembark and climb up a hill we keep looking back
to check
that it is real. But off these islands, the
luminosity of the water is not the exception but the rule, as I found
out by
doing several dives around Gozo. In visibility of up to 60 metres, the
caverns,
drop-offs and jagged rocks of the Gozo coast make for a dramatic
underwater
landscape. On one dive, led by
experienced
Dutch guide Lerinde, we enter the water at the actually
emerald-coloured
"Blue Hole", close to the island's iconic "Azure Window"
rock formation. Dropping down slowly to 8 metres we pass right
underneath the
shadows of the window's columns before going deeper and following
Lerinde up through
a narrow 2-metre long tunnel known as the Chimney. On another dive, close to
Dwerja,
we slip underwater in the shallow pool known as the "Inland Sea", and
then find our way through a 35-metre long crack in a cliff wall, into
the open
ocean. At first, it is disorientating as you fin along in
semi-darkness, but
soon a tranche of translucent sea appears ahead and you head towards it
to
emerge at the outer edge of the massive cliffs. I've often thought of the
Med as
little more than a lake by comparison with a real ocean like the
Atlantic. But
viewing the Gozo coastline from under the water, with all its grottoes
and
fissures gouged out by the sea, leaves me in no doubt about its
relentless
power. Back on dry land, that
might is
just as apparent as we explore the coast further by bicycle. On a four-hour ride, we
arrive
first at another giant rock arch, at the far end of a steep-sided
inlet. With
the better-known "Azure Window" in danger of falling down due to the
Med's destructive waves, this more resilient slab of rock is being
groomed as
an alternative attraction. Moving on, we cycle along a
narrow path above a deep fjord-like chasm in the coast. Later, we get
right
down among the criss-cross patterns of hundreds of man-made salt pans,
on a
rock ledge jutting into the sea. Local families have been harvesting
salt from
these hand-dug pools, near the village of Qbaijar, since Roman times.
Behind
the salt pans, the caves hollowed out of the yellow sandstone go back
even
further, having been used as tombs by the Phoenicians. Since Gozo is full of
less-than-gentle hills and stony, pot-holed tracks and roads, cycling
can be
hard work here. But in the cooler months and on summer mornings or
evenings it
is an excellent way of getting a sense for the soothing pace and
un-crowded
nature of the island. In fact, as we stop for a
rest at
a sleepy inland town, it is like entering a dusty time-warp to 1950s
Britain,
with its red telephone box in one corner and rarely-open police
station,
complete with blue lantern and notice for a "Lost Cat", in another.
No wonder even the Maltese come here on holiday- you can feel the pace
of life
plummet the moment you step off the ferry at Mgarr harbour. Travelling at about ambling
speed
is just right for discovering both of these small islands, so hiking is
a good
way of unravelling them some more. On Comino (Maltese name
Kemmuna),
we are able to circle the whole car-free island in a few hours. After
being
dropped off at the Blue Lagoon, we walk up to the island's 17th-century
watchtower, built to protect the Gozo channel from pirates. We then
continue
across the island's maquis-covered slopes, stealing vertiginous views
from the
cliff tops, and finding second world war shrapnel, bright yellow Cape
Sorrel
flowers from Africa and lilac-coloured wild thyme along the way. We end
with a
swim in yet more iridescent waters at Santa Marija Bay before being
picked up
again by our friendly fisherman friend. A pomskizillious place to go - The GuardianEdward Lear was so
impressed with
Gozo he had to make up words to describe it. Juliet Rix finds that its
perfect
blue waters and ancient structures make it an island that's sure to
seduce Big
on history...
Gozo's Ggantija Temple is thought to be the oldest surviving man-made
structure
in the world. What do the Madonna,
Odysseus,
the world's oldest building, traditional British red phone boxes,
bright
sunshine and a crystal-clear blue sea have in common? The answer is
Gozo, the
little sister of Malta. Just four miles by nine, it is big enough to be
interesting and small enough to be easy, and to have been largely
by-passed by
the commercialisation of Malta. We are sunbathing on soft
reddish
sand, hot to the touch although it is already late October. A bright
white
statue of Our Lady surveys the scene - one of many in this still-pious
Catholic
community. At one end of the beach sits the remains of a Roman villa
and above
it, high on the rocky hillside, "Calypso's Cave" where Odysseus is
said to have spent seven years under the spell of the loving sea nymph.
Since a
landslip, the cave itself is a mere crack in the rock but it commands a
delightful view over Ramla Bay - this gorgeous sandy beach (better than
anything on Malta) backed by dunes, and shelving gently into the
Southern
Mediterranean. There is more to Gozo than
lying
on the beach, however, and, unless you are big on walking, it is worth
hiring a
car to make the most of it. Having been under British rule for a
century-and-a-half (red letter boxes and phone booths still stand
bright
against the sandy yellow of the local limestone) Gozo drives on the
left. Or as
one local put it, "we drive on the left...and on the right, and in the
middle of the road...but we rarely have serious accidents". The island
is
small and the roads are rough so speeds are not high, and although only
vaguely
related to the Highway Code, driving is usually considerate. The most unusual site on
Gozo is
the Ggantija Temple (pronounced gigantiya - as in gigantic, and that is
what it
means) in Xhaghra (pronounced Shara). A World Heritage site, it is
believed to
be the oldest surviving man-made structure in the world. Built around
3600BC
(some say even earlier), more than a thousand years before the famous
stones of
Stonehenge, it is a full-scale building with walls, rooms, doorways,
altars and
carved-out bowls possibly for ritual cleansing. The roof is long gone,
but
contemporary models show that there would certainly have been one -
probably a
stone dome. Surfaces are decoratively
pitted
and if you look closely a few have spirals carved into them. It is
worth a trip
to the Archaeological Museum in Valletta on the main island of Malta
(not far
from the airport) to see the extraordinary carvings and clay models
found at
the various prehistoric sites on Malta and Gozo. Masonry is carved with
life-like drawings of animals and fish and there are statues of "fat
ladies" as well as smaller statuettes, including the particularly
beautiful, delicate, four-inch, "sleeping lady". There was clearly a
sophisticated society in Malta and Gozo 6,000 years ago and one deeply
committed to its religion. Some things haven't
changed.
Today, the temples have been replaced with Catholic churches. There are
50 on
Gozo alone. As you look out from the island's many high points, the
panoramic
views seem always to be centred on an impressive dome. A 360-degree
view of
almost the entire island, and surrounding sea, can be had from the
citadel in
the middle of the attractive little capital, Victoria (renamed after a
visit
from the Queen but still sometimes known as Rabat). High on its central rock,
the
citadel has been occupied since about 1500BC but today's towering
fortifications, narrow winding streets and handful of small "fields"
(intended to feed those inside in case of siege) are mostly the work of
the
16th century Knights of St John (Knights Hospitallers) who were given
the Maltese
islands by the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (at a rent of two falcons a
year)
in 1530. The Knights are evident
across
the island; their watch tower for instance still "guards" the
entrance to Mgarr Ix-Xini (Port of the Galleys) - a narrow gorge that
was the
Knights' first harbour as well as the spot where their main adversary,
the Turk
Dragut Reis, landed in 1551 to take most of the population of Gozo into
slavery
- and prompt the strengthening of the citadel. Mgarr Ix-Xini is usually a
good
place for diving and snorkelling but when we were there it was, though
hot,
much too windy - with waves crashing picturesquely (but not invitingly)
against
the rocks. No problem. We simply hopped across to the other side of the
island
and snorkelled in an even narrower gorge, some 500m long, reached down
110
stone steps at Wied Il-Ghasri. The water here was cooler than at Ramla
but
still very swimmable. Above Mgarr-Ix-Xini you can
walk
along the top of the spectacular 130m Ta' Cenc (pronounced Chench)
cliffs where
the Maltese falcon once dipped and soared. It is an area of special
scientific
interest, marked with prehistoric "cart ruts" (signposts) and an
ideal place for a sunset walk. We were lucky. Staying at the Ta' Cenc
Hotel -
the single-storey buildings and swimming pools of which are sensitively
designed to blend into the landscape - we could walk out onto the
clifftops
from our room. The only thing that marred our walks was the regular
popping of
guns from the omnipresent (though on this "protected" spot, supposedly
illegal) bird hunters. There is plenty of good
walking
on Gozo (take walking boots if you plan to do distance as the ground
can be
rough). The coast is dotted with geological features, rocky inlets and
bays.
San Blas for instance is a small but secluded beach down a steep track
(if
driving, park half-way down and walk) just along the coast from Ramla
Bay.
Edward Lear spent a week walking in Gozo in 1866 and declared the
coastal
scenery, "pomskizillious and gromophiberous". One area he may have been
thinking of is Dwerja. Here you'll find the "Azure Window", a vast
rock arch formed by erosion, and the "Inland Sea", a patch of water
separated from the rest of the Mediterranean by a huge cliff of rock.
Take a
ride in one of the small boats that sit by the jetty (Lm 4 =
£6.40 for a
family) and you find yourself in a natural rock tunnel barely wider
than the
boat (but much taller), putt-putting your way under the cliff and out
into open
sea. The blue of the water is pure ultramarine and the purple minerals
and
orange coral attached to the rocks just below the surface look
sparklingly
luminous. After swimming and sight-seeing, Gozo feeds you well. Gozitan cheese (goats' cheese, fresh or dried and peppered) is delicious with Maltese bread, tomatoes (grown on Gozo), capers and local red wine. If you have kids, freshly made full-size pizzas cost only about £2.50 (try Ramla Bay Café or Ta' Karolina in Xlendi). There is lots of fresh fish (lampuka is especially tasty) and El Kartell, on the Masalforn sea front, serves glorious fig and cinnamon ice-cream. Our favourite restaurant, though, was Oleandar, where you can sit under the eponymous trees in the main square of Xhaghra, or inside among local art, eating simple Gozitan specialities in a warm and friendly atmosphere. |
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