Malta, up close
An island small enough to know, old enough to never run out of.
Twenty-seven kilometres end to end, seven thousand years deep. Scroll on. This is the part of the trip we get asked about most.
A sea that stays warm long after summer ends
The water runs a startling turquoise over sand and a deep, glassy blue over the reef beyond it. Most people photograph it before they quite believe it.
The swimming season runs from late May to early November, one of the longest in the Mediterranean. August peaks around 26°C and October still holds about 23°C, warmer than most British beaches manage in August. Comino's Blue Lagoon is the postcard, but the rock pools around Dwejra and Delimara do the same trick with none of the queue.
Winter is a different island. From November the gregale blows in from the northeast, the sea turns rough enough to close the exposed coast, and the water drops to roughly 15°C by February. Those months are for walking the cliffs rather than swimming off them.
Older than the pyramids, and still standing
The temples at Ħaġar Qim and Ġgantija were cut from limestone before work started at Stonehenge and before the first block was laid at Giza. They are the oldest freestanding stone architecture anywhere on earth.
Add three centuries of the Knights of St John, a Grand Harbour fought over since the Phoenicians, and a capital built as a fortress first and a city second. Valletta stops reading like a city and starts reading like an archive you can walk through.
Pastizzi before nine, fish that was still at sea by dawn
A pastizz is a diamond of flaky pastry folded around ricotta or mushy peas, sold hot from the tray for under a euro and eaten standing up. It is the closest thing the island has to a national dish, and nobody agrees on the best pastizzeria.
At Marsaxlokk the morning's catch goes out on ice beside the painted luzzu boats that brought it in. Lampuki runs from late summer into autumn and turns up on every menu on the island for as long as it lasts.
Sunday leans toward fenkata, slow-braised rabbit eaten at length, usually with a bottle of Gozitan red open before the first course.
A festa in almost every village, most weekends of the summer
Every village keeps a patron saint, and every patron saint gets a festa: a long weekend of brass bands, rival fireworks clubs trying to outdo one another, and the parish church lit end to end.
That church is almost always the largest building for miles, cut from the same honey limestone as everything around it and paid for, slowly, by the village itself.
Outside festa season those same squares run at village pace. A bar, a bakery, and everyone on first-name terms.
A sea that stays warm long after summer ends
The water runs a startling turquoise over sand and a deep, glassy blue over the reef beyond it. Most people photograph it before they quite believe it.
The swimming season runs from late May to early November, one of the longest in the Mediterranean. August peaks around 26°C and October still holds about 23°C, warmer than most British beaches manage in August. Comino's Blue Lagoon is the postcard, but the rock pools around Dwejra and Delimara do the same trick with none of the queue.
Winter is a different island. From November the gregale blows in from the northeast, the sea turns rough enough to close the exposed coast, and the water drops to roughly 15°C by February. Those months are for walking the cliffs rather than swimming off them.
Older than the pyramids, and still standing
The temples at Ħaġar Qim and Ġgantija were cut from limestone before work started at Stonehenge and before the first block was laid at Giza. They are the oldest freestanding stone architecture anywhere on earth.
Add three centuries of the Knights of St John, a Grand Harbour fought over since the Phoenicians, and a capital built as a fortress first and a city second. Valletta stops reading like a city and starts reading like an archive you can walk through.
Pastizzi before nine, fish that was still at sea by dawn
A pastizz is a diamond of flaky pastry folded around ricotta or mushy peas, sold hot from the tray for under a euro and eaten standing up. It is the closest thing the island has to a national dish, and nobody agrees on the best pastizzeria.
At Marsaxlokk the morning's catch goes out on ice beside the painted luzzu boats that brought it in. Lampuki runs from late summer into autumn and turns up on every menu on the island for as long as it lasts.
Sunday leans toward fenkata, slow-braised rabbit eaten at length, usually with a bottle of Gozitan red open before the first course.
A festa in almost every village, most weekends of the summer
Every village keeps a patron saint, and every patron saint gets a festa: a long weekend of brass bands, rival fireworks clubs trying to outdo one another, and the parish church lit end to end.
That church is almost always the largest building for miles, cut from the same honey limestone as everything around it and paid for, slowly, by the village itself.
Outside festa season those same squares run at village pace. A bar, a bakery, and everyone on first-name terms.
Seen enough?
Book direct and we’ll help you plan the rest
We live here. Ask us where to catch the boat to Comino, which village is having its festa this week, or where to find pastizzi after midnight. It’s in the welcome message every guest gets.
Questions first? [email protected]