Malta 5

March 8, 2012

The last thing Joseph showed me was the island Saint Paul was shipwrecked on. I kept thinking, “Why this one? Why not the one to the left or to the right? How did he live? Were there people there? How did he get to the big island?” But the Maltese are certain of the facts, and there is a monument to it all, and what here isn’t St John’s is St. Paul’s. Also did not mention the odd fact that all the streets of all the towns of Gozo were abandoned when we were there. Joseph said this is because everyone on Gozo works on Malta, and there’s no one there at all during the day.

Speaking of Saint John, I went to his co-cathedral today. You’re supposed to be amazed by the contrast between the martial exterior and the lavish–not to say extravagant– Baroque interior, and indeed I was. It was quite lovely, actually, with a couple of history-saturated Caravaggio’s as its centerpiece. He was a knight for a while, before being cruelly defrocked before his own Beheading of Saint John, the greatest work of art on the island. The Knights of Saint John were a fascinating organization, and I think the world is poorer for the lack of them, or something like them. Oddly, as a child I used to make up organizations like it, and outline their histories in my head and on sheets or paper I concealed and quickly destroyed, lest anyone ask what I was doing. Who knew such things existed in the natural world?

Sat in the upper gardens and wrote, surrounded by screaming children and clouds of pigeons which were being pursued by them. There were two calm, wise-looking cats.

Have slept well only one night since coming here, which is unlike me. Fat nap this afternoon, though, after which, if it is not too cold, I’ll launch out for a drink or two along the waterfront.