ir-Raba’ ta’ Lulju (the 4th of July)

You know that riddle that asks if there’s a 4th of July in England? Of course, the answer is yes, but they don’t celebrate it. Well, there’s a 4th of July in Malta too, but they didn’t seem to make that big a deal either (it is, after all, a former British colony).

But have no fear! Jessica and I did our best to pump up the festive spirit and celebrate. Here’s how our day went:

First, we set out nice and early to go to the beach. We went with Christine Agius, the pastor’s wife, and the Agius boys, Michael, David, and Mark. We met up with another family from the church at a beach called Ġnejna (juh-nay-nuh). It’s a great beach with rust-colored sand and a view of Gozo. We hopped right in the water, and the locals gave both Jessica and I high-fives. Although Jessica kinda caught it on the back of her hand, and I got it on the side of mine. It stung for quite some time. We were touched by their sentiments, or maybe it was just their tentacles. After all, the locals I’m talking about were jellyfish. Clear-ish, purply brown, about as big around as a tea cup, with 3 to 4 inch tentacles. I’m actually kind of glad that we both got stung. I wouldn’t have wanted Jessica to get all the high-fives alone. It wasn’t too bad, felt almost exactly like a bee sting.

The sun really started beating down at noon while I was playing soccer with the boys, so we decided to pack it up. And back in town, Jessica and I decided to lay low in our apartment during the heat of the day. There were great firecrackers going on outside. Mostly big BOOMs from cherry bombs and a few loud CRACKLE-POPS from those kinds that are all strung together. At least it’s not as if the firecrackers were going on directly behind our backyard or anything. And we weren’t at all extremely annoyed that it kept us from our nap. And I’m sure they were in honor of America and had nothing whatsoever to do with the festivals celebrating the local patron saint. It was a pleasant afternoon.

Then in the evening, we decided to head out to the Hard Rock Café for dinner. It was crowded in Paceville, where all the cool nightclubs are, but not more so than usual. It was just crowded enough to make parking a slightly stressful ordeal. When we got to the restaurant, the host politely informed us that the kitchen had closed early. Of course! Trying to be helpful he continued, “We close it early every Monday. In case you’re here on holiday.” NOW we know, but what good would that do if we were on holiday? Was he trying to tell us, “Next year, plan your vacation in Malta for Tuesday through Sunday”? Instead, we went across the way to a restaurant called OutWest, which is an Argentine steak house with an Aussie flavor (for those of you who are planning to open a steak restaurant and can’t decide the ethnic theme, you should be taking notes). It said Argentine Steakhouse on the door, beside which there stood a 6 foot cardboard cowboy, and there was kangaroo steak on the menu too. The food was really good, but we went back to the Hard Rock Café for lunch today ‘cause all I really wanted was the buffalo wings and a margarita.

We topped off the night with some Ben & Jerry’s sitting along the water’s edge, and finally got some recognition as a tipsy celebrant did a nails-on-chalkboard rendition of “Happy Birthday” to America in a nearby karaoke bar. At least someone besides the two of us was in the mood! So, we join that guy in saying…

Happy 229th, America!! Don’t worry; you don’t look a day over 180.