An-American-in-Malta

         

 

                      X'hemm u Merħba        

 

Hello and Welcome.  This web site is for expatriates living in Malta--and for people  anywhere considering or planning to move to Malta.  If you're about  to retire, work or study in Malta, here are the facts you need--which I dug up for myself when I decided to make Malta my home. Please join me on my journey.

(By the way, what do those ancient Egyptian symbols have to do Malta?  To find out, click here.)

                                                                                              I.S.   

Disbelief in Malta: The Neanderthals are Alive and Well and Stupid

 

How long have I been here now? 

...Over three and a half years with Mr. S, my long-term, legally recognized EU National partner...  Back in 2009, Mr. S and I got me officially declared as a family member of an EU National.  That means that I don't need a work permit anymore to work.  I just have to register like everyone else.  That means that I am an official resident of Malta.   This is EU law.  And Malta is supposed to be a part of the EU.

And now, after all this time, the ETC (the Employment and Training Corporation--the indolent bullshit arm of the Maltese government) has informed my employer (a new one--which I will tell you about later) that I can't work here because I'm an American.

They are harassing my employer (who is blessedly British) to make him (and, therefore, me) resend documentation that they already have and or have access to via their outdated databases. This happens everytime I'm in indirect or direct contact with the ETC.  I think the ETC should hire staff with opposable thumbs.

Do you know how many people work here illegally?  I personally know about 20 of them.  And I'm not one. But the ETC has decided to single me out.

Well, Mr. S and I are going to take legal action against the ETC and its mindless representatives for slandering my good name and reputation by inferring that I have given them false documentation and that I have been working here illegally for the past three years (and paying taxes, of course).  And--for discriminating against me because I'm an American.  This is an insult to not only me, but to Mr. S and my employer--not to mention the US which has recently taken about 500 illegal immigrants off of Malta's hands.

I have one bit of advice for the non-sensient individual who has been harassing me, Mr. S and my employer:  He\She/It better be wearing nappies when our response arrives in the morning.  Nappies is British for diapers.

To be continued...again...

New Article by Ilene on a Special (User Friendly) Cemetery in Malta

 

Please click here if you like spooky places:

 

 

 

 

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Thanks for reading!

Back in Malta...

 

 

 

 

 

Ah...

 

All photos by Ilene Springer

Copyright 2012

Back in Malta: And He Said it Couldn't be Done ...

 

I Got My Umbrella On the Plane After All...

 

Mr. S with my umbrella from England

 

Here's how it went:

1. I found a great umbrella in Seaford, England.  It looked like the perfect kind of umbrella to use in the hot sun in Malta--even though I know I will look stupid--when I have to walk back and forth to work.
2. It was a good price and I brought it back to our hotel room where we we've been holed up in the pouring British rain for past three weeks.
3. As soon as I got back to the room with it, I knew it wouldn't fit in my suitcase.  There was the possibility that airport security wouldn't let me walk on board with it because they might think it could be used as a weapon.
   
4. I hid it, knowing how Mr. S would object to the umbrella because he would insist that it would not make it on board because security would consider it as a weapon.
   
5. I finally told Mr. S about it, showed him and we had a big fight about it not being able to go on board because, he said, security would consider it a weapon.
6. After several days of fighting about it--right up until the day we left England (today), I decided to use it as a weapon.
7. I didn't really. But there were many discussions and requests of other people who came with us on the trip to try to fit in into their luggage for me.  Most people were sure that Air Malta would allow it on board because they had brought things like that on board--like fishing poles, walking sticks--other times.
   
8. The Cinderella umbrella didn't fit in anyone's luggage.  Mr. S was glad, naturally.  I told him he was in very big trouble if I had to leave it behind and that it would be his fault, naturally.
   
9. We went to the airport, security allowed me to take it on (I did get stopped instead by security for two tubes of skin cream that had to be separately bagged and sent through the radar again).
10. Mr. S, very smartly, showed no disappointment that the umbrella made it through.
11. He looks very nice with the umbrella in Malta, don't you think?
    

 

 

Out of Malta: Sheep Gazing in the Sussex Downs

Finally, a Rambler Renegade Came with Me to the Sheep Farm!

 

 

I knew it was just a matter of time before someone who has been trekking along with The Ramblers would get weary and want to have some real fun.  So a brave soul came with me today to the Seven Sisters Sheep Centre in East Dean, Sussex. 

I'll let the photos speak for themselves:

 

I named this cute face "Hornie."

 

 

Only One Day Old

Out of Malta: A False Alarm in Sussex

 

I don't know why these things happen to me.

We're in Sussex (England) now, and I have my usual bus-phobia-in-a-new-place syndrome.  This means that I'm scared to go on a bus to a new place on my own.

With a lot of encouragement from everyone here, I decided to get over it this time once and for all, and make it on my own to a sheep farm I wanted to see (while Mr. S was away on a big challenging Rambler walk).

So I got there.  I took the bus with no big events, I loved the sheep farm and planned to return to our hotel by bus with no major events.  I got to the right bus stop, was waiting for the bus back with other would-be passengers when I felt like I was going to have to pee badly soon.  By that I mean that if the bus came within the next five minutes I would be OK becuase I could hold it for the 15 or so minutes it would take for the bus to get back to Seaford where we're staying. 

After five minutes went by and there was no bus and the pressure in my bladder mounted, I began considering my options:  what were my chances for waiting for another five minutes and still feel like I could make it to a toilet even if the bus came?  Was there somewhere nearby in the bushes where I could try to go?  The answers were, respectively: "very small" and "no."

The dilemma was solved with my feet as they instinctively and rapidly led me away from the bus stop toward a set of buildings about a five-minute walk away.  I got to one building and was directed to a small coffee shop about another five minutes down the road.

I was starting to feel like I was going to pee in my pants by the time I rushed through the coffee shop doors and asked a woman at the counter for a bathroom.  As I headed for the toilet, I half noticed that all the clientele seemed quite elderly.  No matter; I was approaching toilet paradise.

I got there and discovered that I couldn't find the light switch in or outside the bathroom.  I couldn't leave the door open, so I felt for the toilet, found it and did my business in it right in time.  Then I found the way out of the bathroom through a crack of light coming in through the bottom of the door.  I opened it and reached back to flush the toilet.  There was one of these pull ropes to flush the toilet and I pulled it.

My sudden relief at the end of my close call was interrupted by a loud siren that went off through the building and a red blinking light in the bathroom.  Yup--you guessed it--I had pulled an emergency alarm in the bathroom instead of flushing the toilet.

I realized that just as a woman frantically ran toward the bathroom.

"There's no alarm," I said.

"Yes, there is," she said.

"No, it was me," I said.  "Sorry, I thought it was the flusher.  I couldn't find the light in the bathroom."

"The light switch is down here," she said, pointing to the now very visible light switch halfway down the wall.  She walked in and deactivated the alarm.  "This is a bathroom for handicapped people."  She looked at me with disgust, shook her head and rushed out as fast as she came in.

Well, that all explains the elderly clientele and the need for an alarm in the bathroom.

I was about to leave when I felt an unstoppable and uncanny desire to "flush" the toilet again.  Can you imagine?  Can you imagine that woman rushing in again?

Did you ever feel like that--doing something totally ridiculous just to see what would happen?

I didn't do it. I left, walked back to the bus stop and took an uneventful trip back to the hotel.  Now that was easy.

 

The Sun is Shining in England...

OMG--the sun is shining in Seaport, England, where I'm now here with Mr. S for a Ramblers walk/hike thing for 10 f_____ days. I just noticed that the sun is shining from my bed where I took a big coma nap after coming back from a terrible hike in the rain. But now the sun is shining.

I love England now. I love it!

No, I still hate it.  A little sun isn't going to change anything. 

New Article about Biking in London

 

Of course, I didn't do this.  But you might want to:

 

Click here to read:

 

Greetings from Miserable Old England

 

 

My Favorite Spot in England

 

Well, cross  England off my list of possibilities to live someday.   I'm sure England is happy about that.

This is going to sound mean, but England had been in a drought for months supposedly. Couldn't it have waited  another two weeks to end?  Mr.S and and I are on a two-week vacation in England visiting his brother in Leatherhead and then on to a Rambling Group hiking event in Sussex (wherever that is).  And since we got here, it's been pouring.  Streets and riverbanks are flooding.

I hate rain.

I do go out everyday but this is calorie-dense weather for me.    I'm not walking off the vast amounts of carbohydrates I'm consuming.  There will absolutely be a depressing net gain at the end of all this.

Normally, I stay away from bread.  But English rolls and butter are winning the battle here.  Needless to say, so is chocolate.   And as soon as I get up, the sirens of the bed are calling me back.  I'll be able to take my post-lunch nap soon.  I just finished my post-breakfast nap. 

And I'm also mad because I'm sitting in a deceptive Starbucks here in Leatherhead. That means that the free wi-fi is working for everyone else but me in this place.  That's why I came here today-- to get out, stay awake in a public place and use the wi-fi. Instead, the free wi-fi says, when I try to login, that it's only  for UK residents.  I know England has started its austerity measures but I can't believe I now have to pay taxes to the UK to login to a Starbucks wi-fi.

And here's something I don't get: someone has an iPad just like I do but has managed to get it to stand almost straight up but mine keeps flopping down.

Can't complain about the hot chocolate here, though.  Except that it's gone now.

I'm waiting for Mr. S who ventured out farther in the rain today than I did.  Then it will be lunchtime and we return shamelessly back to his brother's house for lunch.  I'm going to try to eat a vegetable so I don't end up with scurvy.

I miss Malta now-- the sun and the natural beauty.  I feel like I have a lot more in common in with the British than I do with the Maltese.  But I could never live here in weather like this is which can happen anytime in the year.

Now a young beautiful English blonde walked in here with a great figure.  I'm out of here...

New Articles about a Hidden Olive Grove in Malta and the Malta Marathon

 

 

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