mostly earnest

Tag: malta

  • YukiMomo

    I’ve been helping my neighbour feed her cats and water her one (1) plant while she’s away. 

    Neighbour as in she lives just two doors away from our building and one time when we had big scary insect problems in our apartment, we called her for help.  She didn’t come to our rescue but did offer her cats because and I quote “Momo is good hunter”. 

    Neighbour as in some times when I hear loud noises coming from upstairs, I text her to ask if she could hear it too. Neighbour as in when there’s leftover beer from entertaining guests, she offers it to me because she doesn’t drink. Neighbour as in when there’s a power cut, we ask if she wanted to have dinner somewhere together while we wait for the lights to come back on. 

    Is this what it feels like to live in a time before we were all so guarded, wary, and suspicious? 

    We never expected to make friends with any neighbours. High-rise living in KL has made us sceptical about having any sort of interaction with people who live in the same building, let alone on the same street. 

    Modern living definitely plays a role in our anti-social behaviours and this is true anywhere. Malta is not exempt but people here do live closer to the ground. You’re more likely to see people out and about, and towering stickle-brick buildings aren’t as common. 

    Our friendship with our neighbour only happened because we found her lost cat in our apartment. We’d seen a cat from two doors down hanging out on the balcony, so when we stumbled upon Momo in our building, Nine had a hunch it was the same one. She swiftly rushed over, going door-to-door looking for Momo’s owner. 

    It was a chance encounter but I would attribute that to us living somewhere where it was possible to notice your neighbour’s balconies and take an interest in their lives.

    We became instant friends after. Our neighbour even gave Nine the title “Momo lifesaver” whenever she introduced her to others. Now, whenever Mimi goes out of town, we look after her cats. 

    As I stand in her kitchen, watching the cats eat, I can’t help but feel like our life in Malta is something out of a movie. After all, I can’t recall a time when I was this involved with a neighbour. 

  • Masumi

    For two hours, we’re in Japan. 

    An upscale izakaya, our greatest find yet in this food desert. Small menu, extensive sake selection. That’s how you know it’s good. Specials board changes every month. I had their berry chocolate ganache once and inhaled it in seconds. 

    —

    Through the side door, a Japanese woman adorned in the intricate folds of a kimono glides into the restaurant, capturing the immediate attention of fellow patrons. With a polite request for a table for one, the Japanese server gestures towards a counter table.

    She takes a seat with a posture that echoes discipline and grace and surprises the air with an order of Asahi beer in English. The Japanese server nods in understanding and promptly reaches for a menu, accompanied by an introduction to the Specials board also in English.

    After a brief survey of the room, she returns her attention to the menu. A subtle smile plays on her features as she reaches a decision. In the midst of her contemplation, a Serbian server, stationed behind the counter, asks if she is ready to order.

    She admits the overwhelming choices before her. With a thoughtful suggestion, he recommends starting with the agedashi tofu. Grateful for the guidance, she agrees, and he vanishes into the kitchen. 

    Meanwhile, the Japanese server uncorks an Asahi beer bottle, pouring its golden contents into a waiting glass. He places it before her on the counter and tells her to enjoy. She indulges in a sip, a subtle nod of satisfaction punctuating the moment. Lowering her glass, her gaze catches the Japanese server.

    “Are you Japanese?”

    “Yes, are you Japanese?”

    “Yes, yes, I am also Japanese.”

    “Ahh, Konichiwa!”

    “Konichiwa!”

    Pleased with the discovery, she starts to chat with him in indistinguishable Japanese. As the conversation ebbs into a momentary silence, she leans back, hands placed neatly on her lap, patiently awaiting the promise of a warm culinary delight. 

  • Couch to 5k

    I have always thought that running was inherently uncomfortable and that anyone who chose to do it had a high threshold for pain.

    In the past, I would be so sore after a run, I needed a week to recover. By the time I was ready to head out again, my enthusiasm had waned just from anticipating the pain.

    My relationship with running continued to fluctuate. I replaced running with hiking and was regularly at it until I left for Europe. The logistics of looking for housing along with acclimatising to my new life put an end to any form of physical activity.

    When I finally settled in Malta and had some semblance of normalcy, I was mainly hiding indoors doing calisthenics. Summer was brutal and although the longer days were a nice welcome from dreary Ireland, the heat was relentless. Coupled with the humidity, I didn’t feel like moving an iota of muscle.

    By the time September rolled around, the temperatures became a lot more tolerable. I was ready to come out of hibernation. I decided then that completing a 5k would be my winter project. With encouragement from a friend who was a veteran runner, I signed up for a race with 20 days to train.

    This time I was going to do things differently. I consulted the same friend for some advice and she recommended I use a couch-to-5k app. After a bit of research, I went with Nike Run Club.

    On the second day of September, I went for what would be my first run in 2 years.

    That run took me 20 minutes and only as far as 2 kilometres. That run was also deliberately slower than I have ever ran since lockdown but it was also the first time I finished a run feeling like I could go for another run.

    Game-changer.

    With the guided runs on the app, I discovered the right way of running. Up until then, I hadn’t considered form, posture, breath, or pacing. It was a whole new world.

    But of these elements, pacing had the biggest affect on me. It is everything. Pacing is what will make or break a run. Set off too fast and the run can quickly turn into a slog. As I have learned, slow runs, runs that allow you to talk without struggle is what motivates a runner (at least in the beginning) to keep showing up at the starting line.

    Diligently following the beginner guides, I often found myself finishing a run excited for the next one. I wasn’t sore to the point of being unable to move the next day and whatever knee-pain I had was also quickly rectified with a quick search on YouTube about form adjustment.

    It’s been two months now since I first started running and in that time, I have completed three 5k(s), two of which were races. My current personal record stands at 34 minutes.

    It was a misconception on my part to think that running is innate and that it was something people got better at the more they did it. And if they didn’t – as in my case – then it was just a matter of incompatibility. I forget we inhabit a world rich in knowledge and tapping into them can make all the difference.

  • The First Half Of 2023

    These events occurred between January and June 2023 and are not in chronological order. The reflections shared here are adapted from my journal.

    1. After two rounds of interviews, I got accepted for an internship. I enjoyed the work but the pay was pitiful. Guess it’s better than a non-paying internship or at least that’s what I told myself to feel better about my labour.

    2. I was admitted into hospital for ten days with vestibular neuritis. That was a scary time in my life. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I really thought I was going to die. But when you lose your ability to walk and can no longer control the movements in your eye (I didn’t even know that was possible) it truly feels like your time might be up.

    3. The experience of being in a hospital in Malta couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Barring the food of course but then again when have hospitals been known for their culinary flair? I spent a lot of time observing the Maltese people, how they communicated and interacted with one another. Along the way, I managed to pick up a few words/phrases that came in handy for extracting a laugh from the nurses.

    4. To our relief, my ten-day stay in the hospital, along with an MRI scan, came at absolutely no cost courtesy of the Maltese government and my being married to my wonderful EU passport-wielding wife. Never thought a marriage certificate would serve to be the second-most important document in our possession.

    5. My first trip to Geneva, Switzerland was quite an adventure. I flew there solo and navigated buses myself to meet Nine. Travelled with my walking stick and it allowed me to bypass the long airport queues. I couldn’t help to feel a little conflicted considering I was not as wobbly as just a couple months previously.

    6. Emma, Nine’s friend from Scotland, came to visit and we went to see some old rocks together.

    7. Then, Deens came to visit, and we enjoyed a wonderful week together, reconnecting, laughing, and simply sitting side by side, mindlessly crafting our IG stories and feeds. I had missed her immensely. Her visit couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I was grappling with overwhelming loneliness after the move, and having someone who knows me, who has witnessed my growth over the years, and who feels like a living piece of home, was exactly what my weary soul needed.

    8. It took another two months before I could wean myself off the walking stick. My vision had mostly returned to normal. The lag or drag I’d felt for months was gradually disappearing.

    9. I lay low at home, waiting for summer to end. I did appreciate the longer daylight hours, but I’m not a fan of the heat. We bought an outdoor fan for our indoor home. It was noisier than I liked it to be but it saved us from turning the AC on all day. I spent my days practising calisthenics, reading, watching films, and hanging out with some new friends we’d made from showing up at migrant meet-ups and other events.

    10. In the last six months, I’ve attended a handful of protests which included a march advocating for refugees.

    11. Couldn’t find a good book shop in Malta but there is an art house cinema so I’m counting my blessings.

  • Why Malta?

    When I was still living in Donegal, I paid 50 euros to see a GP hoping he could write me a prescription for some meds I required. I had all the necessary medical documents from home to verify that I needed these life-saving meds but Ireland’s healthcare decided they won’t recognise these documents. I have been on these meds for the past 6 years with no trouble. What I was seeking was continued care which I was glad to pay out of pocket, no cost to the public. But this just wasn’t an option for a migrant in Ireland.

    In order for them to dispense the meds, I’d have to start from the back of the queue in their system which could mean months, possibly years, before I would even be seen by a specialist. That was out of the question. I do not want and cannot live without these meds.

    I appealed to the GP and he told me he would “study” my case to see if he could help me skip the queue. That was 4 months ago and I still haven’t heard back.

    __
    A question I get a lot now that I’ve left Ireland is “Why Malta?”

    Just a few months ago, I would not have thought about this place. What even is a Malta? My knowledge of this country stretches only as far as their Eurovision entries and that too is recent. In 2021, I was pleasantly surprised by Destiny and her song Je Me Casse, which she performed with great energy and powerful conviction.

    I hadn’t thought of Malta since but when we were trying to figure out where in Europe had housing and access to the kind of healthcare I needed, Malta emerged and was apparently positive on these fronts plus they spoke English. I was so hard done by Ireland, I could not help but feel sceptical about my prospects. If a progressive country like Ireland could not resolve my medical needs then there was no hope elsewhere, let alone Malta – a Mediterranean island nation that you had to pinch zoom a few times to find on a map.

    Our options were limited and we were running out of time. My next dose would be in a few months and we didn’t want to risk waiting any longer for housing or meds to become available. At this point – three months into our time in Ireland – we’d only had one viewing and it was for a tiny one-bedroom flat, two and a half hours away from Dublin. We had immediately agreed to it but then were ghosted by the landlady.

    We thought Malta couldn’t possibly be worse than Ireland so after double-checking with various local grassroots organisations, we bought our tickets and jumped on a plane. Within a week, we secured housing at a central location with fantastic local and Asian food stores, bars and walking distance to the sea.

    The true test arrived when a local friend invited me to go with him to see his family’s GP to ask for the prescription I needed. Again, I had very low expectations. I was prepared to receive some feigned sympathies from the doctor and then be sent on my way with no outcome other than a ludicrously exorbitant bill.

    Instead, she pulled out her prescription pad and started scribbling before I could even finish appealing my case. She took a quick glance at the letters and documents from home and told me not to worry. For the first time, I actually believed it was going to be okay. And all of this for 20 euros that I didn’t even have to pay for because my friend was going to claim it from his insurance. Amazing.

    __
    So, why Malta?

    Because in Malta, doctors take a more collaborative approach with their patients. They trust their patients, especially ones that are already looking for continued care. They don’t discriminate, not against me and not against where my medical docs are from.

    Ireland’s healthcare bureaucracy is not reflective of the people’s values. Despite how strongly I feel about Ireland, her people and how much I loved living just over the border from Derry, it was not reciprocated. I can’t stay in a place that ignores my pleas and would rather see me suffer than provide a simple piece of paper to say I deserve to live.

    The Irish are by far some of the loveliest people I’ve met outside of home, it’s a damn shame that I couldn’t call it my own. Malta may be a second choice but here I have a shot at a dignified life.

  • Malta: First Impressions

    Weather. The mediterranean climate is a welcome change for someone whose been cursing the cold since I arrived in Ireland. At 18°, people are bundled up in puffer jackets, scarfs and hats. Ireland has conditioned me well. I only needed two layers. Too cold for the Maltese, warm enough for flies.

    People. It’s probably unfair to compare to the Irish. This is not to say Maltese people aren’t friendly. I’ve had the opportunity of meeting some lovely and helpful locals while I was there. But the friendliness of Irish people are unparalleled. Nothing like I’ve ever experienced in all my travels.

    Architecture. Nothing but beige as far as the eye can see. Primarily because their buildings and pavements are constructed with limestone. In some of the older buildings, there are wooden window frames which screened the window space completely known as the Maltese balcony. They are usually painted in bright primary colours. Malta also has several fascinating fortresses and megalithic temples. We had the pleasure of attending a gig in one of these old forts. It was magical.

    Landscape. I can’t believe I’m saying this, I truly have come a long way but sadly there are no mountains or rivers in Malta. It’s completely forest free. The beige is eye-pleasing to look at but after a while, you do begin yearning for some greenery. Even so there are postcard-perfect coastal cliffs and plenty of clear blue waters but hiking for me is still preferable to swimming in the ocean any day.

    Transport. There are cars everywhere. Streets are narrow, a result of limited space on the island so there are no special lanes for buses or cyclists. Speaking of cyclists, I asked a local if cycling was a thing and they told me in the most matter of fact way that I will certainly die if I tried. Drivers in Malta are notorious for fast and reckless driving. Although the congestion is nowhere as bad as Kuala Lumpur, drivers it seems are twice as impatient. There were a lot of gesturing and sudden breaking in the cabs that I took. Speaking of cabs, they have a Grab/Uber equivalent called Bolt and they are always only 1-2mins away. It’s mostly walkable if you’re in a central location. If not, there are buses but I’ve been spoiled by the convenience of Bolt so I can’t confirm their reliability.

    Food. Probably not a priority for most but Malta has an array of Japanese restaurants. Back home, we get Japanese takeout at least twice a week. Since moving to Ireland, apart from Dublin, that routine has largely come to a halt. Malta does have a decent variety of food. The best things I ate were a seafood pasta from an Italian restaurant and a vegan hotdog from a random cafe in the capital. We also had a really impressive meal, specifically the Caribbean Tataki dish at a South American restaurant for Nine’s birthday.

    Language. When I first heard spoken Maltese, I was blown away at the complexity. If you’re not paying close attention, you’d think you’re hearing Italian but to the trained ear, it is more like Arabic with interspersions of English, French and Italian sounding words. It’s a beautiful language, possibly quite tricky to learn. But definitely not as impossible as Irish.