The traveller

As a first-time flier, it was exhilarating and also, I felt like I could vomit my entire stomach onto the passengers in front. My heart beating fast, my fingernails digging a crescent moon shape into my sweaty palms. I was too nervous to even listen to the flight attendant droning on about the safety procedures. And then we were off.

The plane roared to life shooting us up into the air leaving cold Coventry behind – it was only 7:00 am the sun was peeked through the plane’s wing like a golden beam of light showing us the way to the destination. I finally calmed down the passengers in front not a creature of vomit thankfully.

We soared and glided over and under the cotton candy clouds, we tilted and sloped far away from the misery of Coventry. The mountains white, almost too white, not even life-like. It was as if I was hallucinating. The frost and altitude swooshing through my head. But no, it was Switzerland. Geneva in fact.

Time felt like a paradox. It could’ve been 10am it could’ve been 5pm I wouldn’t have known I was too fixated on the blue sky and sea seemingly to connect like they were one. We flew by cities and little towns. Animals and people were mere figurines to me.  But atlas we landed.

As the doors burst open, revealing Malta a foreign land to me, it was impossible to not notice the intense heat caress my face. The aroma of salty air and sweet memories. We fumbled our way to the hotel lucky to get out of the sun. The hotel bright and enticing our home away from home. I explored the hotel, but nothing could compete with the rooftop infinity pool. It was almost as if you could swim right into the ocean.

The day was warm, inviting. The locals peaceful. The food – fresh with cultivating flavours. My first meal here was a seafood linguine looking over a balcony deep into the sea. The cocktails sweet but not as sweet as the thought of staying here for four nights. The beautiful Malta, a Mediterranean island full of historic sites and history. 

The adventure begins. Just a bus journey to Valetta the streets narrow and steep. I couldn’t lie I was out of breath! I didn’t know how the locals do it. Alas, I continued through the beautiful streets that stood tall with boutiques and tacky tourist gift shops. Delicious pastries and pasta and laughter bristled by me. The alluring little bistros sat slanted on the street. Glowing above were fairy lights – what a beautiful touch to the scenery. The buildings crumbled but seemed to fit perfectly in the rustic city. It felt like home.