I stroll across the stone bridge connecting Rabat to Mdina, the ancient fortress city and former Maltese capital. It was once home to the nobility, and has been controlled by many different groups across its thousands of years of history.
Entering the ancient city through the formidable walls is like traveling back in time. The winding streets harken back to its Moorish influence, while the extravagant buildings display a delightful Maltese Baroque. It reminds me of many Italian cities I’ve been fortunate enough to visit, yet with a touch of Arabic.
Despite the throngs of tourists, a few minutes of meandering though the narrow streets, I discover peace and quiet, uninterrupted by the crowds. The cool shade born from the high walls provides a refreshing calm from the warm Maltese sunshine.
The Silent city. La Città Vecchia. The colloquial names make sense.
I proceed onwards, through the narrow, stone hallways, and reach and ascend a short staircase, my vantage point rising above the exterior wall of the city. The panoramic view is stunning. Mdina sits atop a plateau, the highest point in the small island nation. It’s lofty placement provides a vista stretching on for miles, across rolling hills dotted with agriculture, to the elegant coastline.
Nearby the vantage point is a lovely tea garden and cafe, Fontanella. As is typical with many establishments in prime location, the view is the appeal, not the food, drink, or service. I spent a delightful few hours working, taking in the view, and sipping a mediocre Maltese house red. The salmon salad is fine, not to the same quality as the seafood dinner in Marsaxlokk, but the view and ambience are excellent.
As I wrap up my afternoon visit to Mdina, I take in the silent splendor of St. Pauls Cathedral, sitting silently to admire the intricate, bright artwork adorning the ceilings. When visiting religious sites, I can’t help but think of the many thousands of people across time that have sat in that same seat, silently being, submitting to something greater and more complex than themselves, and their comprehension.
The last stop of the afternoon is to find and enjoy a pastizzi, a famous Maltese pastry. When I arrived in Rabat earlier in the day, the gentleman that drove me recommended Is-Serkin, just outside the city walls, claiming they make the best pastizzi in the city.
I’m rarely have an appetite for pastries, yet will always have a soft spot for a passionate local recommendation, and this time is no different. I walk in, the tantalizing aromas of baked goods causing my mouth to water with anticipation. I leave the shop a few minutes later with warm, fresh, ricotta-filled pastizzi in hand. The first bite provides a satisfying crunch into the filo-like exterior, to be met with the creamy dairy inside.
The rich and complex history of Mdina, the fortress city, and beauty of the surrounding town of Rabat warrant ample time to explore, although this afternoon, I’m content with the small taste I’ve gotten to experience.