Valletta evening

With unlimited bus travel I have taken to commuting from Sliema to Valletta for dinner. There is a better choice of restaurants there, and I like the open spaces, which make Sliema feel like a cabin.

It's a pity there is little hotel accommodation in Valletta, but there are apartments for rent and I browsed a few real estate agent windows.

An accordionist is playing Besame Mucho as I enter the city gate.

I located the Trattoria Zero Sei which I tried to eat at on Saturday. This time they were open, and there was a 1 hour gap I could fit into. Ensued this (paraphrased) conversation with the chatty proprietor (you can easily guess my questions):

We make our own pasta and all the recipes are authentic Roman. We don't use cream or butter in Carbonara. I sold two restaurants in Rome and brought my family here. Life is better here. I thought if I can break even I'm a happy man, but every night I'm booked out. I realised the Maltese like to eat because it's a crowded island with few outdoor activities. 06? Ah that's the area code for Rome, ha.

You picked us because of the Keep Calm sign on the glass door? You know, I don't want to spend money on advertising—advertising is expensive—because then I would have to raise my prices; how could I offer pasta for 9€? So I draw this silly sign by hand and the tourists go ka-chug, click, click, and I get my publicity, ah ha ha.

I didn't have the Carbonara, but the Amatriciana which indeed is typical of the Lazio region. The home made spaghetti was indeed al dente.

A trio of double bass, bass guitar and saxophone set up outside the court of justice. When the bass started plucking an even eighths intro. I bet with myself it would segue into The Girl From Ipanema. I won that bet. I won the next bet too about Manha de Carnaval. Sitting on a bench, I savoured the bars, tears welling in my eyes. It was homesickness, but for me home is not a place, but my beloved activities. I resolved to learn every piece in the MPB repertory.

At this point the trio packed up. The accordionist was still playing. I sat on nearby steps as he went through the old favourites: La Vie En Rose, Tico Tico, El Choclo, Sway, and Autumn Leaves.