Stone upon stone: an Italian sojourn: Luzzu and lampuki in Marsaxlokk

The Phoenicians were the first to row their galleys into a safe harbour to the south of Malta that today is a lovely little fishing village called Marsaxlokk ( pronounced Marsa-shlock): probably my favourite name in all of Malta. It soon became an important base for their trading empire around the Mediterranean and beyond, and a great trading hub.

Trade still goes on today.

We found more decadent products in the market stalls: canoli amongst them, rich in ricotta, rich in chocolate. We chatted to a lady who grew capers in her garden, and brined them herself: it was almost her complete market bounty. Capers grow along the hedgerows and the ubiquitous stone walls here in Malta: along with prickly pear and pomegranate. Wild and delicious. Some of my favourite foods need only grit for soil and sunlight to be ready for harvest.

One local made her own gbejniet (je-bain-yay) cheese in small plastic cheese strainer containers. Sheep's milk, she said, just mixed with salt and rennet. This is the portion she has for sale as she does not need it all this week. Another sold small round oranges are still attached to their moist leaves. How long is it since we have tasted oranges that were harvested so fresh?

People were buying brined olives, artichokes, seafood and salted cod from stalls where the produce just mounded over and on itself in all its bounty. Products we buy from expensive delicatessens at home are on sale here from a subsistence market seller.

One fisherman with the happiest moonface sold his lampuki (mahi nali), octopus and squid catch at the market. His wife expertly cleaned all the fish for a long queue of regular buyers. Industrious African net repairers dotted the waterfront skilfully weaving their shuttles.

Marsaxlokk is equally famous for its luzzu, colourful fishing boats, many of which are painted with the evil eye, believed to be an old Phoenician custom, warding off evil. The Prime Minister of Malta was also warding off the negatives, today. He was in Marsaxlokk on a people visit. "He is one who still talks to the people," a vociferous local proudly informed us. That is novel, we agreed. Another aged local was so chuffed with the important visitor that by mid-morning he was blind drunk and could barely stand without help.

Two Maltese pulizija were tipping out his beer as fast as he could buy it, sitting him down, ensuring that he was not within cooee of the Prime Minister who was listening to cares and woes from those who turned up sober enough to chat with him. Many had a beer in hand. The police were actually kindly.

The entire waterfront and the population, even, look to us as though we might just as easily be in Africa today as in Europe. The feeling is quite unique. It was constantly disconcerting.

We ate local seafood, cooked perfectly, in a family restaurant, overlooking the bay, with the sun shining and the colourful fishing boats bobbing. Just glorious.

Back in Valetta we took our last passeggiata with the crowds down the main street of Valetta. We trekked the back lanes and said goodbye to the gorgeous Georgian green timber balconies which typify Malta for us. Hopefully, they will not all be completely destroyed in the massive rebuilding and modernisation that is going on all over the island. But, we fear for them. Minimalist concrete high rises seem to be mushrooming everywhere: particularly across the harbour in Sliema and St Julian. Those wonderful balconies are worth fighting for.

We will really miss you, Malta!