Lost in Translation Goes Forth
The two of us feel dwarfed by the immensity of the ship compared to our little car (The sort of car that Jonny B would call a Kia Ninky-Nonk). We drive up the ramp, and obey the staff’s directions to park the car on the left-hand side of the cavernous hull. A few minutes later, a newspaper in hand, the two of us stroll on the upper deck, hand in hand. It is not too cold here although the breeze is politely encouraging us to go inside. Judging by the swell visible between the two main Maltese islands, the wind is a little less polite out there.
We saunter around, watching as fellow passengers get their bearings. There are a few regulars who head straight for the canteen and a favourite spot. Tourists blink in the sunlight and stare at the various bits of the ship, wondering whether they should be doing anything in particular. A couple of elderly gentlemen sit on a bench outside. Their weather-beaten faces show that they are no stranger to a bit of Mediterranean winter, each wrinkle telling a thousand stories of lives lived on islands as craggy as their faces are.
I have not crossed over to Gozo in a few years and now that we are back in Malta for the holidays, we decided to visit the sister island for the day. Fond memories of spending summer holidays with my family in Gozo start to come back, awakened by the familiar surroundings on the ship. The memories wash over me like the gentle Mediterranean sea would wash over my brother and I as we made castles in the sand many, many moons ago.
I squeeze my partner’s hand and we head inside. On our way in, just as the ship shudders away from the quay, the mighty engines vibrating through every bone in our bodies, I notice a cryptic sign:
Odd Signs everywhere you look? Leave us a comment and tell us about them!
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