On Thursday night I got to the airport at 1 AM, all set to meet up with Carissa and Juliet for a a night of sleeping on the floor in front of the check-in counter (them), and reading a rather cheesy Paulo Coelho book about a Brazilian prostitute (me). The Madrid metro doesn't start until something like 6 AM - not exactly sure since I'm never awake for this to be an issue - but whatever the exact hour was it wouldn't have been early enough for us to make our 630 AM flight. Thus slumber party in Barajas International.
Nap time came later at our hostel/apartment in St. Julians. Despite the removable doorknob on our main door, the place was awesome, especially considering we were paying 4.50 euro a night. Kitchen/sitting area attached to two separate bedrooms, which was good as Carissa would spend something like four days sick and bedridden in one of them, with Juliet passing one day in the same form.
Aside from these challenges we had a great time exploring the island, walking and walking for hours, and going out at night for una copa/bottle or three. We met Couch Surfer Alberto, but aside from that not many people living there unless you count the ones we overheard on the bus. I did get into a sort-of conversation with one guy in a pizza place at 3 in the morning. He got very aggressive and had the pizza guys in the kitchen giving me looks of caution in case he tried to fight, but fortunately it was diffused when his friend ran out to the sidewalk in a drug-induced something-or-other, and vomited on the street. Bad sign: when your stoned friend, who can barely open his eyes and converses in grunts, and who then splashes the streets of Malta with the contents of his innards, seems like a much cooler person than you. Butt-munch.
Anyway, we went to Medina, we went to Birgu a couple times. Juliet and I wandered into what appeared to be the Maltese projects on the way - also home to the island's septic reservoir. Visited the hypogeum, which is this really cool underground burial site that used to hold about 7000 skeletons and now pays homage to the dead by charging 20 euros entrance from the living. Books in English, Kinnie, beautiful sunsets, botellóning by the water, sky, the Mediterranean, and music constantly being piped in over the loud speakers on all the busy streets. Malta.
And then I woke up on our last morning there, sick and with three hours of non-reclining Ryanair seats ahead of me. The last few days have been much the same minus the flight, but tomorrow evening I'm bound for Tel Aviv so I'm really hoping these oranges and soup start working their healing magic soon.
Anyway since I'm psychotic I've been madly searching ESL job sights in anticipation of graduation at the end of June. Seduced by the beach, I emailed my resume to a school in Cozumel, and five hours later it seems I've been offered a job to begin in early July.
Better graduate then.