The Small Island
The Ggantija Temples in the village of Xaghra claim to be the oldest free standing structure in the world. I pondered this claim whilst observing the semi-permanent scaffolding that was holding up the structure. The four minute video I watched in the adjacent museum presented an archeologist describing, in explicit detail, the plans they have to slowly remove some of the scaffolding in coming decades. Despite this, the site appears to retain its claim of archaeological supremacy; a UNESCO world heritage site with structures that date back thousands of years. All this sitting in a small town on an island smaller than Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs in a country technically in Europe though two times closer to Tripoli than to Rome.
Gozo is Malta’s second island. The main island of Malta is, by international standards, still very small. However, Gozo is the small island of the small country. The underdog’s underdog. The garnish on an appetiser. Snow White’s shorter dwarf. The second piece of hand luggage. The teaspoon to Malta’s tablespoon in an already miniature cutlery set. This is not to say that Gozo lacks any personality or beauty or history. The old citadel in the central town of Victoria is a charming fortification of yellow rock. The beaches surrounding the island are serene and calm. But when the day-travellers head off the island and back to Sliema and Valletta, Gozo can feel quiet.
For me, Gozo felt like a step back in time. The people and culture are modern however the way of life is slow and relaxed. As I sat waiting for the bus in Ramla one afternoon, a local man sat opposite me. The buses in Gozo were always late so I was waiting a while. He sat on his chair under the shade of some tall grass. He watched from the gate of his property as tourists walked up from the beach to the bus stop, waited for the bus and then down to the port and then back to the main island. He seemed to do this all afternoon, occasionally providing advice about when the next bus was coming. This was his unpretentious day.
The structure of the island itself felt like a glimpse into how towns and communities live in the past. Villages are small and placed sparsely in the island’s interior. Sure, it didn’t take long to get from one village to another (if you weren’t catching the bus) but each village still had its individual identity.
There also weren’t many people living on the island. So, in retrospect, it was unsurprising that when the security guard at the Ggantija Temple said hello to me, the voice should have been familiar. The voice belonged to the owner of the property I was staying at. A stern woman in a security uniform was a far cry from the sweet lady I met the day before in a house filled with life-sized dolls. Nevertheless, she approved of my visit to the historical site. I questioned my decision to visit. The site is said to be older than Stonehenge but like the English archeological site no one knows exactly what all the stone structures are for. There are theories. “We think these holes in the stone were used for religious shrines,” said one sign. All the information was speculative. I am okay with speculation but I really think the archaeologists need to decide on a theory - or at the very least make one up (no one is going to double check) - if they want to charge an admission fee.
