St. Philip's Public Garden (Gnien San Filippu)

St. Philip's Public Garden
Triq Vincenzo Bugeja
Floriana
(right next door to Argotti Botanical Gardens)


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I had discovered this park (which we call 'public garden' in Maltese-English) in my mid teens. I then promptly did what all teenagers do when they've discovered secluded spots bereft of any form of adult life:

1. Tried to bring girls here
2. Told my friends about it

Since we were all skateboarders, it wasn't too long before the place was overrun with ollying and kickflipping kids playing metal and hip-hop tapes on Sanyo ghetto blasters.

I eventually found out what a woefully misguided act telling my friends was. Any time I'd bring a girl here (not that there were hundreds of those, mind you) on a Sunday morning there would always be someone I knew who would come and 'hang out' with us, oblivious to the fact that I'm planning some major bra-unclasping by the end of the day (said bra-unclasping would rarely materialise anyway...).

Now that I'm too old to be busting out nosegrinds and 360s with fifteen year olds (unless I want to look like a pedo) I'm telling you; don't dissapoint me. Nowadays the skaters are nowhere to be seen, so you'll have the garden all to yourself. Well, unless the entire readership of this blog (all three of you) decamp there at the same time that is...

Crystal Palace (aka Is-Serkin tar-Rabat)

Crystal Palace
Rabat (just outside Mdina)


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A traditional brutal-rural Maltese caff. Milky tea served from a kettle that predates the second world war, fresh pastizzi, dog-eared copies of Il-Passa and lots of hunters discussing birds and how to blast the shit out of them.

Most Maltese are vehemently against hunting. This lot are vehemently against people who are vehemently against hunting - so discussing the relative fairness of the EU Hunting Directive is ill-advised (to put it mildly) .

This place opens at 4 AM which would explain why it's so popular with hirsute hunters and night owls (or 'revellers' if you must). You'd expect the two wouldn't get along - and well, they don't really have to... they just ignore eachother. The twain shall never meet and all that.

Anyway - it's something of a tradition for people who spent their night at Gianpula or Tattingers to go to this place to buy their early morning pastizzi.

Interestingly, the hunters seem to be really, really into desert camo fatigues. An unusual sartorial choice considering they're going to be sitting in a stone hut for hours waiting for the right moment to shoot down the odd Kinder Surprise-sized bird rather than hunting down Taliban insurgents in northern Djalalabad. But then again, what do I know about hunting?


LINKS

"Crystal Palace, Rabat, Malta" - drerk.de (text in DE, but lots of pics)