Driving along the 28 km that the island of Malta is long, you either pass by unpeopled dreary landscapes or rundown villages which don’t seem more alive. I could not find a glimpse of beauty by no stretch of imagination. The kind of tourism that fuels the bays of the island was visible in every street. Pace ville, the party mile, was the most shocking place in my opinion. Hadn’t there been my closest friends, I would have never set foot into that scary, filthy place.
“Rundown” is not always negative though. There is this very adorable, mediterranean kind of dirt and crumbling plaster, that I anticipated to find a lot and finally did in Valletta. As the capital and also biggest city of the country it seems to pool its whole art property, which is probably why Valletta in its entirety is listed among the UNESCO world heritages.
It didn’t take long until I was completely charmed by the colorful windows, crooked streets and all the holiday lights they adorn their churches with. I knew that Malta is a devout catholic country, but I have never seen that many churches on a small amount of people. There are 360 churches in Malta, so basically every second house in Valletta was a church. But take a look at the streets of Valletta yourself to find the shades of sandy you ever wanted.