Listen, kids. If you read carefully, you might notice that not all the recent posts are mine. Some of them have been written by friends* who said that in the event I couldn't get to a computer they would look after this blog** for me. So until I return, do take whatever shows up in here with a grain of salt, eh?
I'm writing from Malta, in what must be one of the weirdest Internet cafes on the planet. There's one computer, a couple of depressed-looking Maltese girls sitting around, and gigantic poster of Jimi Hendrix on the wall.
Malta is, in general, creepy. Fun creepy, but creepy nevertheless. The Maltese are very closed off and you get the feeling that in general there's a whole lot going on here that outsiders don't know about. Add to this the winding streets, the decaying Mannerist architecture, and the rather grim Catholic shrines every five feet and you have the perfect setting for a horror film in which I wind up as a blood offering to some kind of neolithic earth goddess.
On the other hand, they have a Caravaggio in the church of the Knights of St. John.
I decided to eat off the ship today (we sail in a few hours) and had some sort of Maltese national dish. It was labeled "beef" but I'm certain I ate some parts of the cow to which I am not accustomed. I don't want to know, honestly.
I'm going to sign off now, as this place is really giving me the creeps.
** destroy my hard-earned readership