We outdid it. Again.
My dear friend put the words so well the other day.
“Ah, Malta. The country of filth and unlimited sin. I love it.”
(He’s of course referring to the somewhat neglected street cleaning and pollution of the place. Nothing else.)
You know how the standard “going-to-a-sunny-place-for-vacation-for-a-week” John Doe behaves (with the risk of losing some of you here, but yeah, I’ve got prejudices):
He’s feeling the pressure to every morning have to be down by the pool before the breakfast buffet opens. He’s putting his towel on a well planned sun chair. He then lies there roasting all day, maybe has a bottle of water and some fries for lunch. He then finishes it all off completely dehydrated at a bar with a couple of piña coladas, after which he hits the party street with that piggish tint of tourist skin, revealing himself as an easy victim for any “inkastare” to lure him in to the even darker dungeons of under prized alcohol for the night, just to wake up wishing he never did.
You know the kind?
I so love not being John.
Malta is home for me, that has been said a trillion times now, and that’s why it feels so good being able to hang out down here, not really feeling stressed about the whole sunny part. I’ve been here for 10 days this time, leaving tonight, and I know I can come back anytime, to right now focus on my friends and beloved ones down here. The sun comes with the package. Tough luck.
Anyway, it’s been a wonderful set of days, with a lot of well needed quality time with sweet H (actually took 2 days before I even met any betting people. that’s a first), with a massive badaboom weekend to finish it all off, grand Swedish style.
Oh, how it went, Swedish Midsummer?
Well, here are the pictures, so you be the judge.
I won’t bother telling that much about it here and now. I’ll save it for my grandkids one day.
It’ll probably go something like this at the time:
“Ah, there was this time when me and my friend Anders (I’ll be your wingman anytime, bro. Good work.) went down to celebrate Midsummer on an island called Malta (it will probably have been sunk by then, some maltese will have pulled the wrong plug. it’s just a matter of time). Ah, we went out with a bang that year. Just like the two years before. On the same island.”
This time we outdid ourselves. Again.
H: Can’t wait to see you again.
