Valletta’s empty streets looked even prettier in the pre-dawn light.
However, in some areas the smell of urine, vomit and litter still tainted the air. Hoping this was just because of the sheer number of people that descend on the city for New Year’s Eve, I let Google Maps lead me back to Upper Barrakka gardens for sunrise.
My tradition to watch the sun rise over each new year from somewhere beautiful means I’d done my homework, and from this vantage point I should have been able to see the sun rise over the Grand Harbour and Three Cities.
To my surprise, there were a number of people already gathered at the railings, including a family with a very small child in a buggy. Usually I get my chosen spot to myself to watch the first sunrise of the year.
In addition to the family, there were several random men, all of whom appeared to be alone. They wandered back and fore, which knotted my shoulders.
Somewhere below us, a group of drunken people would periodically scream, ‘Wooooooooo!” and chant, whilst the sound of their bottles clinking echoed around the harbour. The child in the buggy began to grizzle.
This wasn’t the peaceful, meditative moment I’d envisaged.
I regretted not bringing my AirPods; it hadn’t occurred to me that I may need my headphones for sunrise. I usually only need them to block out noise to keep myself calm when I’m going to be on public transport, or in a busy environment.
Exhaling, I focused on the glimmers of gold and pink tracing the sky. It was quite cloudy, but this is quite common pre-dawn and, usually, the clouds disperse before the sun rises.
My lungs began to constrict and I looked over my shoulder to find a man standing within a foot of me, puffing on a cigar. He wasn’t the same man who’d been smoking a cigar in almost the same spot as I’d watched the fireworks at midnight.
We made eye contact and as I have zero filters my expression must have sent a very clear message.
He glanced down at his cigar, raised it a little, and looked at me questioningly.
I shook my head.
The man made an apologetic gesture and moved further along the terrace.
It was an entire conversation where not a single word was spoken but both of us understood exactly how the other felt.
The drunk people below screamed, “Happy New Year!”
Adjusting my scarf against the cold, I made a mental note to return to a beach somewhere warm for my tradition next year.
A cloudy sunrise can have its own form of beauty: just before the sun peeked over the horizon, the whole sky developed a deep, rosy pink hue that proved impossible to capture on camera.
Between the clouds were glimmers of gold.
I watched as the sun, a fiery orb, peeked over the Three Cities skyline. At the same time, a huge cruise ship drifted into the harbour.
There was no sign of life on the ship, but I could see ‘Happy New Year’ on a giant screen straddling the top deck. A floating city, it seemed impossibly big for the harbour but, somehow, it navigated its waters without issue.
After watching its passage for some time, I turned away from the harbour and walked back through the arches. In this light, the terrace looked very Game of Thrones-esque, whilst the arches themselves framed the newborn sun perfectly.
A natural art gallery.
I intentionally took unfamiliar streets back to my hotel, discovering little alleys adorned with festive ribbons and balloons as well as lights in every conceivable design. Malta definitely is in its own league when it comes to Christmas decorations.
Once back in my room, I tried to get some much-needed sleep, but the streets were once again SO noisy – this time with the hustle and bustle of the day. People seemed to be shouting to have conversations; cars honked their horns and, from the room above, there were loud footsteps and the sounds of a TV.
After dozing off and on until around lunchtime, I dragged myself out of bed and lamented the fact that the coffee machine in my room was broken: my need to caffeinate was reaching emergency levels.
I showered, dressed and blearily headed back out in search of coffee.
Valletta’s streets were still pretty busy, though not quite at the level of the previous evening. Sometimes, I’ll research spots to eat or drink but one of the things I like most about solo travel is the freedom it affords and so, on this particular day, I wanted to discover and not plan.
Wandering until I found a cafe that caught my eye, I noticed a couple were gathering their belongings on one of the outside tables and asked the gentleman, who was standing nearest to me, if they were about to leave.
He confirmed that they were, once he’d paid the bill, and gestured for me to take a seat. The couple headed inside.
My seat was at a little red table looking towards the harbour, which peeked through the gap between the narrow street sloping below me. The entrance to the street was strung with red and green balloons, fairy lights and a golden ‘2025’.
The couple reemerged into the street and the man told me I’d made a good choice; he said he worked at the airport and he always goes to the branch there as their coffee was so good. I thanked the couple and wished them a Happy New Year.
Within seconds, a waiter arrived and I asked for his recommendation for a cake, as the window was filled with an overwhelming choice, all of which looked good. He recommended the praline without hesitation, so I ordered a slice along with a coffee.
At the start of each new year, I always complete my version of Tim Ferriss’ Past Year Review, where I reflect upon the past year, month by month, and write down the things, places and people that energised or drained me, to help me identify goals and what I should be doing more/ less of – it’s a more actionable exercise than setting resolutions that are likely to fizzle out by the end of January.
As I sat, sipping my coffee and savouring my cake (which was rich and chocolatey and perfect for a mid afternoon energy boost), I completed my Past Year Review in a notebook a friend had gifted me for my birthday.
I felt completely content in that moment.
Review complete and goals set, I people-watched for a while until the smoke fumes from the table behind me drove me to pay my bill and leave the cafe.
The next few hours were spent getting intentionally lost; wandering down any street that looked intriguing so that I could discover new things and explore Valletta in a very organic way.
By around 7pm I was starving and my feet had begun to ache, so I began to look for a place to have dinner. Most restaurants were full – or booked in advance – so I headed to the food court, thinking that would be my best option. Outside the food court was a restaurant called Bus Stop.
On the menu hanging outside their entrance, there was a fish and pasta dish that made my stomach rumble, so I walked into the outside seating area and asked a friendly lady wearing a Santa hat whether I could please have a table for one – and if it was possible for me to eat an allium-free meal there.
She asked me to wait and disappeared inside.
It’s always a form of roulette whether a restaurant can accommodate my allergies, and I wasn’t especially hopeful as I’d already learnt that Maltese food seems to contain a lot of onion and garlic.
So it was a happy surprise when the lady re-emerged, thanked me for waiting and led me to a table under a heater. She handed me a blanket to place over my knees and a menu.
Her manager then came out to talk to me about my allergies and I asked for fish and pasta. There was an obvious tension between the Santa hat lady and the manager but both of them were very nice to me.
A male waiter then came to take my drinks order and I decided to try the local soft drink, Kinny. It’s apparently brewed from bitter oranges and extracts of wormwood, and I wasn’t sure what to expect.
After he placed it in front of me, I lifted the glass, fascinated by how the bubbles were rising like their own teeny firework display. Taking a sip, I pondered the unfamiliar flavour. It’s hard to describe, as it didn’t especially taste like orange but I also don’t really have anything to compare it to. The best I can offer is that it was pleasant.
My meal arrived: a generous portion of tagliatelle and a selection of fresh seafood. It didn’t, however, have any sauce to speak of. I seasoned it as best I could and ate quickly as I was beyond hungry.
The waiter and I had a little chat every time he came to my table and before I left he told me that I have good energy, which warmed me. I left with a smile.
I walked back to the Christmas market so that I could properly have a look at the stalls. Thick hot chocolate being stirred in a glass container caught my eye and I bought one: it was delicious.
Happily, I wandered some more until a wave of fatigue washed over me and I knew it was time to head back. I had a sleep debt to repay.
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Can’t wait for more
Coming! So glad you’re enjoying the posts, Mimi!