Zejtun

There is this town or village in the south of Malta which I had heard of but never really ventured to. I remember people trying to fob me off this village. Now I go twice a week, and I love it. If I could I'd take a sleeping bag with me and stay overnight. But I do not have an extra large sleeping bag, and little people are asleep at night. But I would if I could. Talk about people being colourful, they have it all. Talk about every slang Maltese word in the world, and there you have it too. Talk about the little people who have a flair for art, it's all in there. And talk about the way the people, little or not, talk to me.... they make me feel like the President of the United States. Except that it's not the United States, it's Zejtun. The people inhabiting this place are as colourful as Rio de Janeiro tour brochures. They talk loudly, they swing their hands all over the place, they could be Sicilian. Their little people are amazingly cut out for art, theatre, drama and music. I have yet to find the reason why. I remember the first time I ever set foot there, it was in apprehension. But that didn't last long. I was actually surprised at how these people thought I was so normal. Little people smiled at me, they still do, they still ask me ad nauseum when I'm seeing them. I have made some of the best friends in my life, and all at this village. I have spent some of my happiest moments, also at this village. It is amazing in life, perhaps it is so true, we should never think anything about anyone unless we ourselves have had direct experience. I never banked on being so happy every Wednesday and Friday morning. It's not that I don't like other villages and their people, it's just that Zejtun has become such a special place for me. And all because it's little people, who are so big in all other spheres.

I just hope that it will always be my happy place, filled with all the very special little people. Ok I know I'm as emotive as you can get, but love never ever failed anywhere anyhow.

Today

Today I came home, opened the door, and was greeted by my six cats, all posing like domino soldiers. Tomorrow I'll probably find the same thing. And that's nice. For someone like me who opposes routine and who thinks that Bohemian is the way to go, well in some cases routine is lovely especially when it showers you with love. Cats, dogs, human beings, they all know how to show love, each in their own way. It's getting colder now and sometimes, when my seven alarm bells have all rung themselves out, I think it would be so nice to turn the other way and snuggle up in bed. But then, I remember. I have duties and children to pass on information too. Not just text book information, but the hand-on kind of, and I cannot let that pass. Not if I can help it. Teaching is a swell job. If it's a job at all. Can anybody be so luckier than to work through a medium they love, with people who love them? When you think of it that way, it's not even a job. It's a beautiful experience. Watching little eyebrows grow with excitement, looking at a whole bunch of little people intent on listening so they may get their hands-on, it's brilliant. Of course you get the odd stressful day, but then who doesn't? And isn't having 25 little people better than having to handle 25 not-so-good and not-so-little people? You can take a rough word from a little man or woman, you can just holler at them, or explain that it's not very polite. From my experience I'd say, talking to instead of shouting to guarantees the best results. That is the way I was brought up too, and I guess it worked. Although I might be a biased judge here!