All about Maria

Terminal Velocity

2011-06-19T09:01:00.003+02:00

I was surprisingly calm and relaxed, as Gaetano clipped his harness to my suit in preparation for the imminent sky dive – the very first from my end.

Sitting in a crowded Cessna, waiting to jump, I can’t recall any particular thoughts. Gaetano explained that quite a few people have second thoughts and go back on land on the very same plane they took off some minutes before.

Hanging out of the plane is Antonio, camera in hand. He is assigned the task of recording the whole experience. He motions me to smile as Gaetano and I prepare ourselves for flight. Suddenly, with no warning at all we are out of the plane. A double somersault into the air produces a sudden adrenaline rush that makes me realise I have just jumped out of a plane, approximately 4200m above the ground.

As the wind hits my face, whilst experience the downward falling sensation, I am laughing and screaming, with Antonio obligingly capturing every moment on camera. I had been looking forward to the free falling sensation, parachute closed, accelerating to terminal velocity, around 120 miles per hour. Freefall is such a stupendous sense of freedom. Flying through the air, you can do what you like with your body – fly forward, back-up, sideways, flip and twist. There are absolutely no limits as to which direction you can move your body. A veritable sensation of total freedom of movement.

Is this what birds feel when they are flying?, I think to myself.
Suddenly the reverie is broken when the parachute opens and I am yanked up. It doesn't even occur to me that I am 'safe'. It didn't even enter my mind, for a second, that the parachute wouldn't open.

From then on the sensation is the same as the ones I had in previous paragliding experiences, which nevertheless are exhilarating and adrenaline pumping. Circling above the airfield we take our time to land, enjoying the view of Palermo beneath us.

Bracing myself in the position I was instructed to, Gaetano skillfully maneuvers us into a soft and graceful landing.

I am still laughing when I realise that all my plans to scream Geronimo whilst jumping off the plane were fruitless as in the excitement of it all, I forgot totally about it and just laughed and screamed my way down.

Geronimo will have to wait till the next jump.

Survival Instinct

2011-03-20T13:31:00.007+01:00

An eight-day trip to the Swedish Arctic wilderness set in a pristine environment we so sadly lack promised to be the trip of a lifetime, and it certainly didn’t disappoint. Let’s face it, such a Challenge is not something that is frequently experienced by the likes of us Mediterranean people, whose familiarity with icy conditions is more likely to be a short encounter with the freezers in a supermarket. The threat of frostbite, lack of sleep, no contact with other human beings apart from those involved in the Challenge, no internet, mobile phones or other creature comforts we are so used to in our day to day lives, would prove to be the real challenge.

A cabin with no running water and electricity was our base. We were all assigned duties, from cooking, cleaning and washing up to ensuring that there was a plentiful supply of firewood to fuel the centrally located stove which kept the cabin warm. The first three days were spent cross-country skiing, dog sledding and snowmobiling as well as preparing for the survival stage.

Dog sledding lived up to my expectations though I would have enjoyed spending more time with these strong animals. Very playful and craving attention, once they are harnessed they get into work mode. Six dogs pull a sledge carrying two people, one of whom steers and keeps the sledge’s balance. Every so often the sledges stop and the dogs take the opportunity to cool down by lying in the snow, nuzzling their noses against the cold ice. By the end of the day, they are all tired and almost fall asleep immediately in their ‘cabins’ on the truck.

Bluetooth, was the name of this loveable dog, who was always up for a kiss and a cuddle

If dog sledding was the best way to experience a true wilderness, completely dependent on the dogs with no noise except for the odd bark, then the snow mobile was the modern version of this sort of travel, with more adrenaline flowing, especially when pressing down the throttle at full speed while going up a hill, whose summit is just a straight line, with a huge unknown behind it. I must admit I had a whale of a time negotiating my way through forests, frozen lakes and undulating tracks. The only downer was the sound of the engine and the smell of fuel, a stark contrast to the unspoilt terrain we were travelling through.

At higher altitudes, near a weather station

Having never put on skis in my life, the prospect of spending a couple of hours picking myself up and untangling myself from a set of skis was admittedly very daunting. While quite a few people encouraged me, telling me that cross country skiing was much easier than downhill skiing, I still had visions of myself hugging a tree or being buried headfirst in the snow after a failed attempt to tackle some minor slope.

Happily, I managed quite well though I did have some very unceremonious falls, which required the assistance of my friends to get back on my feet. I enjoyed the experience so much, that I set off on the survival part of the journey, on skis, at night, carrying a heavy backpack and reaching the destination with a huge smile on my face.

Survival instinct

I guess that deep down inside each and every one of us there is a survival instinct that comes into play whenever we find ourselves outside our comfort zone. Although I have been on expeditions, I still had my reservations as to whether I would cope with the cold, lack of sleep and basic facilities. Each night I would crash into my sleeping bag with aching muscles only to be woken up a few hours later to carry out fire duties with my buddy. I found it very hard to go back to sleep, mostly due to the uncomfortable terrain and the cold.

Removing tree branches to build a shelter, made of trees and snow

We were all busy working on the construction of the snow hole, which saw us pile as much snow as possible into a heap at least two metres high, that would be big enough for 20 Challengers to sleep in. Although many hours were spent working on the snow hole, we sadly never managed to spend the night there. Due to heavy snowfall, the construction collapsed. Three people, including myself, who were working inside at the time, found themselves buried in the snow albeit for a very short time and were lucky enough to suffer very slight injuries and able to continue the Challenge after having been given the all clear by doctors.

Digging into the snowhole a few minutes before it collapsed

The Challenge is now over and some of us are struggling to get back into our old routines. There were many lessons to be learnt from this trip. Apart from giving me the opportunity to learn new skills, it has shown me how much we take what we have in our lives for granted and that we can really get by with few things and still be content.

We left Malta as acquaintances but came back as friends. We supported each other when the going was tough, shared a hearty laugh and a silent tear when it was needed. The best part of it all is that our effort will help the voiceless abandoned animals to lead a better life.

London Duathlon 2010 - A Beginner's Perspective

2011-01-21T21:27:00.010+01:00

I must admit I was regretting my decision to sign up for the London Duathlon – The thought of participating in the worlds’ largest Duathlon seemed a good idea at the time of registration, now it was very daunting. The race is held in the spectacular Richmond Park, which is the largest open space in London covering almost 1,000 hectares (2,500 acres), and is home to a huge array of wildlife, including hundreds of deer.

Negative thoughts were racing through my head as I attempted to assemble my bike in a small corner of my London hotel’s lobby. “The room is too small for the bike” the receptionist told me when checking in. Great! With every single guest and hotel employee, that happened to be in the lobby at that point in time, starting at me like I was some kind of alien, hands covered in grease, I kept staring at my bike as if it were the first time I was looking at it. Bolts, springs and pieces of bike looked totally unfamiliar. Getting all hot and bothered and almost in tears I phoned my training buddy Cyp in an attempt to share my frustration rather than anything else. What could he do miles away back home in Malta. Having vented my frustration on a totally amused Cyp, I went back to assembling the bike. Half an hour later I gave it to the hotel staff who promised they would look after it for me until I was assigned my room.

Knowing that there are travel restrictions for bikes, I decide to trace my travel route for race day that afternoon and would also give me the opportunity to collect my Race number and pack. It takes me about an hour to get to Richmond Park. The roads are littered with signs advising drivers that roads in the Park would be closed the following day. I start to get pre-race nerves as I find myself approaching the ‘Race Village’ as it is called.

The area is a hive of activity, the transition area is being setup, banners raised, fellow athletes are forming a line to register and volunteers and busy giving directions and offering assistance to lost athletes like me! Race day planning is essential, so that racking of bike, warm up, hydration and focus can be achieved so that one can put in their best performance.

Collecting my race pack, I eagerly open the envelope to find the race number, security wristband to be worn from Registration until equipment is collected after the race, bike and helmet stickers to be fixed to the equipment before going into transition and the electronic timing chip to be worn on the ankle throughout the event. My number is 2421. I can’t believe I am taking part in my first international race!

The butterflies have gone up from my stomach to my mouth. My major concern is the bike. What if I have not assembled it properly and it breaks down half way? What if my tyres burst and I can’t repair them, thus ruining the whole event for me. These are things that could happen in every race so I try to banish these negative thoughts from my head.

Although the allocated time for my start is 11:25 I know I will wake up early anyway and would also need to allow for travel time, so I head back to the hotel with every intention of an early night. I still needed to unpack and prepare my kit for the following day. Checking into my room, to my horror I find I have a slow puncture. I try to repair it but seems to get worse. In tears I go down to the lobby and ask the receptionist, who looks amusedly at me, whether there was an open bike shop in the vicinity. I am in luck, he advises, after phoning the shop he found on his database, as they are open. I rush up to my room to get the bike, catch a taxi and go to the bike shop who fixes my puncture in no time. Wheel sorted I feel a bit more confident as I find my way back to the hotel. Neverthless the excitment, tension and nerves are on the increase.

Having eaten a plate of pasta giving me enough carbs in preparation for the race, I settle down to watch some television, to keep my mind off things. Surprisingly sleep soon takes over and I sleep a restful slumber all night, waking up when the first, of six alarms go off the same morning. Having ensured that all my kit is prepared, my race numbers are in my bag and I have a forced breakfast I set off to Waterloo station to catch my train. I see a few cyclists, which all look like pros, making me feel like an amateur which in all honesty I am.

The train journey seems never ending. More cyclists join along the way. Most of them are travelling in groups and are chatting animatedly. I never cease to be amazed at the good spirits some athletes have before a race – something that I always which I can achieve – but most of the times the butterflies take over and I clam up. I feel much better at having gone to check the venue the previous afternoon. All I need to do now is get to the transition area, rack my bike, warm up and get ready to roll!!

To my relief, I find a bike mechanic who is offering a mini-service for £15 – I quickly put myself in the queue. I am definitely not going to hold back from paying £15, if anything for my peace of mind. Twenty minutes later my bike has been seen to and fine tuned for the race.

Having fixed all the stickers, labels, race numbers etc to my paraphernalia I queue up to rack my bike. Prior to entering the transition area I am vetted thoroughly – my helmet checked to ensure it conforms to European Safety Standards – once this has been verified, I am waved in, by a very cheerful steward.

Finding my way through the transition/racking area I find my rack and start setting up my bike and belongings – helmet on handle bars, bottle of energy drink in bottle cage, rest of belonging neatly put aside so as not to be in the way.

A variety of emotions re gong thorough me – pride and excitement at being part of such a major event, loneliness as I am alone with no one to encourage, reassure me or share my excitement, no support from my friends who are there when I race in Malta and worry that I have bitten more than I could or should have chewed. Since I still have enough time before I start warming up I keep my mind off things by taking photos of the surroundings and go through the race route map provided knowing full well that I would forget the mental picture I tried to place in my mind. I just hoped that I would not be too far back from any competitors so that I could follow them.

The amount of carb drinks I drank throughout the morning had their effect and I find myself in the queue to the little girls’ room …..well outdoor mobile toilets to be exact. I strike a conversation with a fellow female athlete only to realize that we had ‘spoken’ to each other on Facebook the previous week. How strange is that – to find each other amidst the 2,500 or so participants. What was uncanny was the fact that we shared the same birth date! Three visits to the bathroom and a good warm up session later it is time to start queuing up. Participants are batched in groups of fifty and started off every ten minutes. Everything is working like clockwork. The organisation is amazing. Controlling so many athletes is no joke!

Finger on the Garmin start button, my legs are ready to run. Prior to starting us off, the steward gives us some words of encouragement and gives us a boisterous send off.

Finally the race is on!

Most of the athletes in my group shoot off but I pace myself knowing that I had to cope with a 10k run, a 20k cycle and a 5k run. It will be a long morning but I just pick up a steady pace and try to focus on my breathing. I want to enjoy the scenery as it is not every day that I can run in Richmond Park in glorious sunny weather. The sunny and warm weather has drawn a large number of crowds, some supporting friends and family others just absorbing the atmosphere.

I am quite surprised that my tension has gone away and I find myself enjoying every minute of it. Perhaps the fact that I don’t need to work on an improved time, that I am the only Maltese doing this race helps. No pressure. Each step that I make will take me closer to the finish line. The temperature is quite hot and water stations are very welcoming. Manned by people of every shape, size and age they all have one thing in common – enthusiasm and support towards all athletes. A simple “way to go”, or “come on love” can really motivate me. With a smile on my face (I realize this after seeing the photos) I keep running along.

Reaching the transition area, I start hoping that I find my bike, after all there are thousands of them, in one piece without any flat tyres. I must admit that the cycling leg is always my favourite in multi sport events. I just love shooting out of the transition area, even though my legs would still be unaccustomed to the change. The course is not at easy as I thought it would be. The wind is blowing form the opposite direction causing further resistance whilst negotiating some steep inclines.

There is some stiff competition between other cyclists as they zoom past me, granting expletives that would not give them any prizes for camaraderie. I find myself ‘competing’ against a young slightly overweight but nevertheless strong cyclist, who to my dismay breezes past me in the hills. I manage to fly past him in the flat surfaces and it becomes a sort of duel between us. I push hard as I want to beat him. I focus on my pace and the ‘duel’ ends in my favour having reached the transition area well ahead of him.

Changing quickly into my running shoes, my legs feel like jelly. The adrenaline is pumping. I admit that I can’t wait to get to the finish line to savour those few seconds of glory of having finished a race that I never even knew of until a few weeks before. As I run my last few kilometers I am delighted to see deer, totally unfazed with all the activity surrounding them. The race instructions had warned us to be careful of any deer that might shoot out onto the road but this one just happily munching away on the lush green grass.

With each step I was getting closer to the finish line. I found myself overtaking exhausted runners. I kept visualizing the finish line, but as soon as I could actually see it I felt a surge of energy running through my body.

As I sprinted into the finish line, amidst the cheers of strangers, I made sure I savoured every second of that moment.

I had successfully completed the world’s largest Duathlon in 2 hours 37 mins.

Proudly wearing my finisher’s medal I walked to my bike with the biggest smile ever. Wanting to share this moment with my friends, I shyly asked a fellow athlete to take my photos with my Blackberry. Uploading it on Facebook within seconds I was happy that technology allowed me to share this moment in real time!

Hellfire Hill

2010-08-30T00:30:00.022+02:00

The sound of church clock in the early hours of the morning always brings back memories of my first day at school – or rather the anticipation of. Having woken up well before it was time to don my uniform for the very first time, many thoughts raced through my mind.

Fast forward some thirty years and the feeling is still the same. The butterflies are still same – the adrenaline released due to nervousness. My bag is packed. My racing uniform ready to be worn.

Sunday 29th August. Hellfire Extreme Triathlon would take place in the rugged terrain of Majjistral Park in Golden Bay. The Challenge consisting of a 1 kilometre swim, 20 kilometre cycle and an 11 kilometre run sounds relatively mild......on paper. In reality it is Malta’s toughest triathlon event, testing even the most hardened of athletes’ limits.

Having gone through the route prior to the event I was fully aware that this was not going to be a walk in the park. I knew that I would probably be the last one in. Not finishing was not something I wanted to consider and I tried to brush away such thoughts when they tried to edge into my mind. Having said that I really did not wish to finish the race only to find a bored Euchar from B’Kara St. Joseph waiting to clock me in. Realistically I estimated my finish time to be around 5 hours.

The start of the race, scheduled for 830am, could not arrive to soon. I tried to put in some fuel in my stomach but quite frankly energy bars are not exactly tasty and conjure up images of the food I feed my horse (am assuming here, just in case one thinks I might have actually tasted it) and the energy drinks all taste disgusting. But I need fuel to get the engine going so I make the effort and fuel up.

It is time to go. Walking down to the beach, the waves caused by the Force 6 winds seem much bigger than they looked from the transition area. Countdown starts.

Hitting the start button on my GPS we battle the waves just to get into the water and head a couple of metres away from the beach towards the marker buoy. I try to follow Danica Bonello Spiteri’s advice and not to push to much keeping in mind that I had to cycle and run as well. Battling the waves, I moved foward slowly.

The motion of the waves caused my stomach to churn and started feeling sick. Wishing I had taken some motion sickness pills, I try to think pleasant thoughts. I reach the marker buoy and start the second part of the first leg. I am sort of relieved to see that there are other swimmers next to me. I keep on, trying to keep a steady pace. Keeping my head in the water is difficult as I start feeling sick. As I am close to the waterline a huge wave hits me from the back. I feel pinned down for just enough time to think to myself "ok this is not good' when suddenly I am out of the water gasping for air and trying to keep my goggles over my eyes. Thankfully I have only a few paces to get myself out of the water and proceed up the steps towards the transition area to get ready for the bike leg.

From the transition area I can hear fellow athletes, taking part in the relay, cheering me on. I push myself up the stairs, still battling the motion sickness. The sun is now beating upon us. I pour water over my head before donning my helmet. I run out of the transition area, shouting out my number, and proceeding on the bike. I know I am in for a tough one having covered the route previously. I am not an offroad cyclist and I want to make sure I don’t injure myself as this could potentially disrupt my participation in the Sprint Triathlon and London Duathlon races in the coming weeks.

I head towards to soil banks that lead to Majjistral Park which lead me to the first offroad bit – a steep ramp. I get off my bike, there is no point attempting this one and risking the race in the first few minutes of the bike leg. Knowing that there would be a possibility of coming across the faster athletes heading towards the transition area I make sure I stay to the left as per our instructions.

Heading towards the cliff edge I meet Etienne Bonello heading down, first lap nearly completed. In his fast pace he finds the time to encourage me. I keep cycling as much as I can, getting off the bike when the offroad becomes too much. Reaching the tarmac road that leads to Popeye Village, I stand on the pedals and head down at a fast speed, hoping that no dog comes rushing to greet or attack me from the nearby fields.

Shouting my number to the marshal I start making my way up Hellfire Hill. “You may need to dismount and either carry or push the bike up the hill (feel free to disregard our suggestion)” said the race briefing document – I took up the suggestion and pushed my bike up the hill.

Back on the saddle and cycling up the hill towards the road that leads to Manikata my thoughts go back to last year’s Lifecycle Challlenge where cycling up hills, albeit not offroad ones, were the order of the day. A bout of nostalgia hit me but this was Hellfire Challenge and there was no time for nostalgia. Heading back towards the transition area I am faced with another tough downhill offroad, I attempt to tackle it but a slight twist saw the pedal embedded in my shin so I decided to play it safe and run down the hill. Next obstacle was a rubble wall which I had to first get my bike over then myself to continue the race. Following the well placed signs I soon reach the road that lead to the transition area. I was on tarmac so I was happy. I took the opportunity to increase the speed and cycled towards the gantry at around 30kms per hour.

Motivated by the loud claps and cheers I proceed towards the second lap of the route, which proves to be more difficult as fatigue and the intense heat set in. Coming across faster cyclists battling their way towards the end of the loop makes me realise that I have a long way to go. I am dreading the run knowing that will be my weakest point. Muttering to myself “focus, focus”, I cycle on determined to finish what I had started earlier on in the day. I did not relish having to go up Hellfire hill another time nor carrying my bike over the rubble wall but this is what made the Challenge what it was.

Two hours have passed since I started the bike leg when I make it to the transition area and prepare for what is my living nightmare – an 11 kilometre run, two laps around the clay slopes in the Riviera Martinique area. Pouring water over my head I run out of the transition area and attempt to pick up a slow and steady pace. The heat is unbearable. I keep trying to pour water over my head but it dries up immediately.

If there is one thing that gets to me psychologically is having to do a circuit or loop more than once. I’d rather go a further distance to make up the mileage rather than having to go round a circuit twice – naturally this is part of what makes a route tough I guess.

Nearing the Riviera carpark a marshall, who has obviously never taken part in any kind of sport except perhaps fast food guzzling, looks at me and asks me if I am the last one. My positive response generates a loud groan and an “oh no, I have to wait longer here?” from this marshal. Having been brought up to be polite as much as possible coupled with the fact that I needed every ounce of energy I choose to ignore him although deep down I think to myself that perhaps I was biting more than I could chew.

Neverthless, I plodded on. I reached the dreaded hill that leads towards the clay slopes. I start walking at a fast pace, knowing very well that any extra effort would not get me anywhere. Looking at my GPS I know that I still have a long way to go. Trying to banish negative thoughts from my mind I take one pace at a time. Following the signs I slowly make it to Lippija Tower. Having come across Danica Bonello Spiteri, she encourages me on, encouraging me and motivating me by remindimg me that from this point on the rest is flat or downhill. I pick up a pace, slowing down at times to drink from the small bottles attached to my belt. The drink is disgustingly hot but keeping hydrated is imperative.

Slowly but surely I find myself near the car park and head towards the transition area. Cheered on by my friends my motivation increases but lasts only a few minutes when I find myself running alone. Going up the hill, for the second time, I am very much aware that I will be the last one in and if I am lucky there will be some people left to welcome me at the finish line. Perhaps it might sound pathetic but I really did not want to finish this on my own.

Having been swimming, cycling and running for the past three hours my back starts to hurt and so do my heels. I drag my feet in a semi-walk/run, trying to estimate what time I would arrive at the finish. Looking at my watch I can't even figure out how much it is going to take me but at this point in time finishing is my main concern. The marshals have gone from their previous station. I feel so alone in the world. I mutter to myself that failing, giving up is not an option. I feel like crying but that would be wasted energy. I start humming to myself, whatever the song was I have no recollection.

Suddenly I hear the sound of someone running. I don’t really take notice immediately thinking that the heat must be playing tricks on me. But the sound is close to me so I look back and to my astonishment I see my friend Chris running behind me, bottle of water in hand and a big smile on his face. Having completed his cycle part of the relay he decides to come and join me. Egging me on, we pick up a pace. We are met by a marshall who is obliged to wait for me so that he can take my number to ensure that I did actually cover the route. Having someone running next to me I feel motivated and pick up a steadier pace. The end is getting closer and closer.

Reaching the clay slopes I am even more surprised to find my training buddy Cyprian waiting for me, ready to run with me. He has just completed the full route, and on the previous day completed the 10k Trail run but he joins Chris to push me to the finish. Shortly after I find Donatelle Callus and her dog BenG. Donatelle urges me to keep on fighting, whilst BenG just looks at me with his gorgeous eyes. This show of support from my friends brings tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. I owe it to them to push myself. In the car park I find Rachel Galea on a bicycle cycling at a pace next to me. “Pace yourself, keep this rate, come on, and you will complete the challenge in less than 4 hours” Cyp tells me. I slow down to try and conserve energy. BenG runs next to me, looking at me and keeping my pace, he knows he must not run fast and keeps close to me. It is incredible how intelligent dogs are!

With every step I take I am closer to the finish. Keeping an eye on my GPS I realise that achieving an-under 4 hour timing is actually possible. I try to save my energy as I get on to the main road and head towards the finish line. One last burst of energy is all I have and I use it to sprint into the finish line where surprisingly I find a crowd of people cheering me on.

I look at my watch – 3 hours 54 minutes and 53 seconds. I did it. I completed the Hellfire Extreme Triathlon.

What happens next, I must admit, is a bit of a blur. A bottle of cold water is thrust into my hand. My heart rate is over 170 beats per minute and much as I try to slow it down I am not successful. I am aware of someone leading me to a chair and giving me water and electrolytes to restore the depleted salts. Removing my muddied shoes, I give me feet a well deserved breather. My heart is now beating at an acceptable rate and I am already feeling much better. As I walk over to where the pasta is being served, fellow athletes come over to congratulate me, some surprised at my determination. I am further surprised when I am presented with an award for my determination in a form of hamper full of isotonic drinks, which will definitely come in handy.

Being presented with an award for determination

Posing happily with my dirtied bike after successfully completing the Challenge

Much as I was looking forward to the pasta lunch my stomach can only take liquids and I have to force myself to eat a few mouthfuls of penne. The adrenaline is still pumping in my veins. All I want is cold water and an ice cream!

My friends - Thank you, I wouldn't have done it in such a time without you!

Left to Right - Cyp Dalli, Donatelle Callus, BenG Callus, Chris Shultz, Rachel Galea

As the organising team, who have done a wonderful job, start dismantling the place, the Hellfire Extreme Triathlon is well and truly over. The satisfaction of completing the race was immense, the pride at being given a prize for showing determination was great but the best part of it all was the show of support by my friends and fellow athletes.

A huge thank you goes to the organistation team – Nathan & Deirdre Farrugia and Antonello Gauci as well as all the volunteers that contributed towards the success of the event!

The Living Years

2010-02-26T23:33:00.004+01:00

“I wasn't there that morning

When my Father passed away

I didn't get to tell him

All the things I had to say”

The Living Years, Mike & The Mechanics

This song could not be more appropriate.

In the early hours of that morning, thirteen years ago, when he passed on to a better life, I dreamt about him. I could see his smiling face telling me that everything was going to be all right. When I woke up I knew he was in a better place.

Daddy had been considered to be a confirmed bachelor for many years. That is until he met my mother. I came into his life when he should have probably been preparing to be come a grandfather. Although Daddy’s image of little girls was that flowery dresses, pig tails and a ladylike demeanour, he soon enough realised that I was not going to be such. Whilst I never really caused any serious trouble, I never knew how to stand still. If there was some degree of disappointment at my tom boyishness he hid it well. I am sure it amused him to buy me toy trucks for my birthday or my enthusiasm to run out and play football.

Daddy graduated as a lawyer but practiced as a notary all his life, gaining a wealth of experience. Gaining respect from peers and clients alike he was generous with his time. Patient, never tiring of explaining the same advice over and over again just to make sure that he was understood. He took pleasure in mentoring and guiding newly graduated lawyers and notaries, helping them make their way in the legal world.

Streetwise yet embracing strong principles he instilled in me values that I try to follow in my day to day life. Discipline and respect towards others was something that he made sure I learnt at a very young age even though my rebellious nature made it quite difficult for him to get it through to my young hard head. His experience in life gave him a wealth of wisdom that I sorely miss, especially when I need advice on career paths or choices that need to be made in life.

Over the years we had our fair share of arguments, but then again which teenager with a rebellious streak wouldn't? But I know that, never for a second, did he stop loving me and giving all his energies to ensure that I was successful in life.

It is a pity that he was not around to see me graduate, to see me successfuly complete Challenges like Kilimajaro and Lifecycle, that he wiill not be there to give me away when I get married. But he is with me in spirit and I know he is watching over me.

Today, thirteen years since he left us, I can truly appreciate all his efforts, all his patience and all his hard work......

.........I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Dedicated to my father, Notary Dr. Joseph Vella Galea LL.D, 27th February 1997

Rush Hour

2010-02-18T15:58:00.002+01:00

Their hands clutching at their steering wheels, with a grip that would strangle the strongest of men, they drive at a snail’s pace on the ‘fast’ lane.

Then, suddenly, shock horror. They are forced to stop at a roundabout or stop sign.

Reluctantly, gingerly, they slowly release their grip on the steering wheel, and in slow motion put their hands on the gear leaver. Releasing the gear they wait for their slot to proceed on their journey.

In what seems like an eternity, and several missed opportunities, they eventually put the car in first gear. Quickly, in a flash, their murderous grip is back on the steering wheel.

Chin sticking out dangerously close to the wheel they proceed at a snail’s pace, blissfully unaware of the fact that should, God forbid, they have an accident they are at more risk of being seriously injured than if they had to keep a safe distance from the wheel.

Totally oblivious of the fact that such driving causes frustration and is potentially dangerous these people lurk on our roads making rush hour even more unbearable than usual.

Yes, you guessed right. I experienced a tad too many of these drivers this morning.

Now wait. Don’t get me wrong, I do not condone reckless driving but extremes are bad on both ends. If you are not confident to push the pedal a bit harder keeping within the specified legal limit, that is fine, but get out of the way!

Don’t be selfish and block other drivers’ way. The outer lane is for overtaking, so it should be kept free. Driving at 5 kilometres per hour on a road that has a limit of 60 kilometres per hour is bound to cause frustration and irritation.

Let us be realistic, blocking someone from overtaking, especially when on their way to work in the morning or home in the evening, is extremely frustrating. And please do not come and tell me that it is not. If you don’t find it frustrating then you are either living an illusion or else have the luxury of taking things calmly and not rushing to get to work on time or getting home in time to feed the family etc etc

I was very pleased to read that the Ministry of Justice and Home Affairs will be imposing a €100 fine on those found driving in reserved lanes or those blocking traffic by driving on the outside lane when not overtaking.

What needs to be seen is whether this will be enforced or not.

One lives in hope!

Drive carefully and safely!

Jasper

2010-02-11T12:40:00.004+01:00

Jasper

1988 - 2010

And then he was gone.

A friend of mine, asked me “why the tears, he was just a horse, and he wasn't even yours”. Words spoken by someone, who although meaning well, has never experienced the unconditional love of an animal or the noble and generous nature of a horse who allows us to ride on it's back, making use of its speed and strength for our pleasure and purposes.

I met Jasper, or Jessie Boy as he was fondly known, one Friday afternoon in September 2007 and fell in love with him immediately. Having just signed up for an eight day horseback trek, crossing from Argentina and Chile, I set out to take lessons. My instructor came highly recommended and was lucky enough to be fit into his busy schedule. Throughout our brief phone conversation I advised him that I was a complete beginner, and my horse riding was limited to a couple of hacks at a riding school. “No, problem, you will be fine on Jasper” he reassured me.

Training for the Trans Andes Horseback Trek on Jasper, Maghtab 2007

And I was. I felt safe on the back of this gentle and patient horse with kind eyes. I had a couple of tumbles but they usually my fault. Although an intelligent animal, there was no malice in Jasper. He did his utmost for all the riders that took lessons or rode him in equestrian competitions.

I will never forget our first show jumping competition. Organised by the La Vallette Riding Club, it meant that he had to journey by van from Maghtab to Marsa, and spend a day in a field devoid of the luxury of his own stable. Moreover, he had to wait for the other horses, he travelled with, to be ready from their competitions before he could go back to his stable. My nerves at competing for the first time in a class full of seasoned riders were calmed by the fact that I could trust Jasper. Tackling the course, keeping in my the techniques learnt combined with some vocal encouragement from my part we managed a clear round. Since, two other riders were clear there would be a jump off for first, second and third place. The activity of the day, took its toll on Jasper and our time saw us place third. However I was ecstatic. I knew that Jasper had given his 110%, in the true generous nature of the horse he gave it his all.

Just after the showjumping competition in Marsa, Jasper is on the right. Marsa 2008

Some people mistakenly believe that horses are devoid of emotions and thus incapable of forming a bond. These people would have you believe that horses are not capable of feeling the same emotions that we humans feel. How wrong they are. Horses desire companionship just as much as we do. A clear example of this was Jasper's bond with Tuta, my instructor's other horse. Their stables and paddocks were next to each other and you could see him look out for her if she was out in the field and he left on his own in the paddock. He would call out to her when he would hear her walking into the stables. So close was his bond with her, that if they both were in the field at the same time he would do his utmost to follow her.

Walking through the stables, early in the morning, smelling the fresh hay, the sound of horses munching contentedly and the sight of them acknowledging my presence as I walk in gives me a sense of peace. Alas, Jasper is now no longer there to welcome me, but his hoof print is clearly embedded in my heart, just as much as it is embedded in the heart of all the riders that have ridden Jasper over the years.

Rest well, Jasper, you will be sorely missed.

Rollercoaster Ride

2009-12-31T12:01:00.016+01:00

As 2009 starts ebbing away, giving way to the start of a new decade, there is no better comparison that can be given to an eventful year other than that of a rollercoaster ride.

Those of you who, like me, love roller coasters fully understand the thrill of such an experience. As we experience the upside-down turns and dizzying heights whilst going through the course of the coaster at high speeds, a varying degree of sensations are experienced. Weightlessness from plummeting in a downward spiral, giddy from reaching heights when looping the loop and the exhilaration as the speed increases making our hearts race, blood pump faster heart dropping as we twist and turn. Similar to life, this one minute adventure can be a stomach churning experience filled with heart dropping sensations. Turning our world upside down for a few seconds but filling us with a sense of optimism as we soar up and look towards the sky.

I am sure that every time we celebrate the start of a new year, we are all filled with a sense of optimism. Wiping the slate, we look forward to what hopefully will be a good year ahead. Nine days into 2009, my optimism took a blow. A horse riding accident was not exactly how I had envisaged 2009 to start. Having been knocked unconscious, suffering concussion after falling off my horse whilst training for a jumping competition I was lucky enough to be left relatively unscathed. However, my confidence levels plummeted to a free fall. It would have been easy for me to close shop. Sell my horse and never set foot in the stables again. But I was not going to give up a lifelong dream so easily. It was a case of literally getting back onto the saddle. I had to start afresh to regain my badly shaken confidence. My determination combined with my instructor’s patience paid off and I started jumping again within a matter of weeks.

If there is one thing that I have learnt in 2009, it must be the fact that one does not have to take years of knowing a person for them to have an impact on one’s life. Cases in point were Cliff Micallef and Jenny Psaila, who passed away tragically this summer, within days of each other. I became friends with Cliff and Jenny whilst practicing the same sporting disciplines – cycling and equestrian sports. Both were enthusiastic about their sports, professional in their approach and always willing to give a helping hand to newcomers like me. Their loss, just before leaving for Lifecycle in the first week of August, was a bitter pill to swallow. I guess one could be forgiven for wanting to give up practicising their disciplines after these tragedies. We can easily cocoon ourselves into a comfort zone, taking little or no risks. But then, would we really love our sports as much as we claim to do if we gave up? No, not really.

Disappointment stemming from being let down by people we trust or have faith in is an emotion that I guess all of us have been through at some point in our lives. When such trust is broken, the relationship, be it a working relationship, a family connection or a friendship, suffers. The trail of hurt caused by these people, intentionally or not causes, most likely than not, irrevocable damage. Thankfully, I am strong enough not to let such actions turn me into a cynical, bitter person. Whilst I will find it hard to be trusting of such people again, I look at those steadfast friends, who are there for me through thick and thin and am grateful for their presence in my life.

Steep hills covering innumerable kilometres, late nights cycling in the dark, lack of food at the end of the day, swollen knees and sores deriving from long hours on the saddles were few of the horror stories recounted by friends who participated in the grueling Lifecycle Challenge. Such visual descriptions were enough for me to deem this a crazy feet which I never really showed interest in. But in recent years, I sort of recanted especially when meeting some seasoned Lifecyclists who keep on returning for more. There must be something that keeps them going and early in 2009 I figured that I should find out for myself.

8^th August 2009 saw me, and seventeen other cyclists, cross the Bosphorous Bridge in Istanbul Turkey starting off an eleven day adventure that would take us through the Asian side of Turkey into the Syrian border towards Damascus. Covering 2000 kilometers we faced never ending straight roads, with nothing in sight for miles, interminable uphills reaching inclines of 18%, swollen knees and inflamed ankle tendons.

But throughout the duration of the Challenge we were taken care of by a great back up team who ensured that we were safe, well fed and taken care of. The cherry on the cake would be at the end of each day when, irrespective of the time we got to our accommodation, we were greeted with cheers, enthusiasm and delicious hot meals.

The horror stories are easily forgotten once the final checkpoint was reached, successfully completing this year’s Challenge.

Not one to stay put at home, I guess my mother has finally resigned herself to the fact that I will never take up knitting or embroidery as a hobby. The adrenaline that was pumping through me upon my return from Lifecycle was definitely not going to let me sit still for more than a day. Although I had finished one of the most grueling challenges I will probably ever participate in, I had itchy feet. I needed another challenge.

What challenge?

Climb a mountain - Kilimanjaro, Rainier, Mont Blanc? Been there, done that

Trek the Andes on horseback, riding into the sunset? Been there done that

Cycle for thousands of kilometres in a foreign land? Had just been there done that.

A good friend and Lifecycle participant suggested, over dinner one evening, triathlon. Echoing the words of another friend of mine, he said triathlon is a great to remain in shape and working on three disciplines for one race, swimming, cycling and running, would prevent me from getting bored and keeping focused. For someone who gets easily bored it sounded very enticing. But there were two problems. Running was a sport that always eluded me. Admittedly I got a slight twinge of interest when taking photos of my friends during the February’s half marathon but the twinge was slight and never felt again. Swimming for me equates to a day at the beach in summer and jumping into the water to cool down. My Lifecycle friend suggested that I have a chat with Dermot Galea, Malta’s Triathlon Champion. It only took a five minute chat with Dermot to get me convinced to start training. The first goal would be the Half Marathon in February. Although months away, I had a long way to go seeing that I never ran or jogged in my life. Taking slow steps, building my pace gradually, I took part in the Mdina to Spinola race – 17 kilometres, mostly downhill which I completed in 1hour 50 minutes. Not bad for someone who started running a few weeks before.

The writer Paul Tournier describes the real meaning of travel as being the discovery of one self through contact with other people. Ever since I tasted my first trip abroad, my wanderlust has deepened, fuelled by the geography lessons I sat for in school. My TripAdvisor application on Facebook shows that I have visited 181 cities in 36 countries covering almost all continents - Europe, America, South America, Africa and Asia. My passion has taken me to far flung corners of the world. Roughing it up Cuba and splashing out in New York were my trips for this year. Ironically, one is the antithesis of capitalism and the other the hub of it all.

Controversial and conflicted, Cuba is a nation like no other - rhythmic, colorful, sophisticated and whimsical all in one sumptuous breath. Encapsulated in a time warp, the streets of Cuba are filled with messages revering the 1959 Revolution, with Che Guevara being the most popular revolutionary hero depicted in murals, paintings and sculptures.

Yet Cuba is vibrant in its own way, with youths dancing to the beat of salsa music at almost every corner, whilst old men while away their time slapping down dominoes and smoking chunky Montecristos. Baracoa’s virgin beaches provide the perfect location for periods of tranquil isolation, characterised by golden powdery sands and the turquoise waves of the Caribbean.

On the other hand New York is the quintessential metropolis. Chaotic and glamorous, New York can be anything you want it to be. When faced with adversity it has been capable of bouncing back – the Great Depression, the Wall Street Crash and more recently 9/11. Exerting its powerful influence over worldwide commerce, finance, culture, fashion and entertainment there is never a dull moment spent in New York. New York can boggle the mind. It is easy to feel overwhelmed as the visitor is spoilt for choice. Watching famous actors like Daniel Craig, Hugh Jackman, Catherine Zeta Jones, or Jude Law thread the boards on Broadway. Hitting the shops for some retail therapy at Tiffany’s, FAO Swartz, Macy’s or NikeTown and if the therapy proves to be too expensive, one can always savour the fresh air with a walk in Central Park.

In the city that never sleeps, there is plenty of time for dining and unlimited options to choose from. Considered to be a culinary capital, the foodie can find everything from sushi and dim sum to hot dogs and donuts. My favourite eateries being the Loeb Boathouse in Central Park where it is easy to forget you are in a bustling city. Frankie and Johnnie’s steakhouse began as a speakeasy in the 1920’s at the height of the Prohibition. Carnivores like me can sink their teeth into amazingly huge steaks cooked to perfection. Yes, New York might not be Fidel Castro’s favourite city but it is certainly mine. My visit to this city, in December certainly rekindled the glow of Christmas and with it the hope that a New Year brings with it.

Some people have described 2009 as an annus horribilis. Yes. 2009 was not an easy year. Just like a rollercoaster, it has caused us to twist and turn, plummeting into a free fall and rising up towards the sky giving us a degree of optimism that all will be all right. But in a couple of hours, I wil be raising my Champagne glass, toasting the end of a difficult year, that has made me stronger and welcoming 2010 full of renewed optimism.

2010 will be the start of a new Chapter.

Photo copyright Maria Vella-Galea, excluding Lifecycle related shots copyright of Ray Pace

The Road to Damascus

2009-10-08T20:51:00.004+02:00

The flight to Istanbul from Damascus took exactly 1 hour 30 minutes. A bat of an eyelid compared to the 11 days it took us to cycle the same distance. This year’s Lifecycle Challenge saw 18 cyclists cover 2000kms in what was, as the Committee put it, one of the toughest challenges ever.

Being my first experience as a Lifecyclist, I didn’t really know what I was going to face, even though friends of mine, who took part in previous editions of the Challenge, warned me that this was going to be tough!.

This year’s Challenge, started on Saturday 7th August at 7am and saw us crossing the Bosphorous Bridge in Istanbul. An extremely special event as cycling is not allowed on this Bridge. Supported by the Maltese Consul and a Police escort we took off, battling heavy rainfall that was to see us through most of the day.

As the Challenge progressed we battled strong winds and faced extreme temperatures which rose up to approximate 43 degrees. Fatigue set in as day after day we cycled for long hours, up steep and never ending inclines. The roads were considerably in a better state than ours, but the tarmac grip was a nightmare as it made us have to cycle hard even in the downhills.

Turkish hospitality was amazing. I must admit I had some reservations about cycling in Turkey but I was proven so wrong. Although cycling is not a widely practiced sport there, drivers showed us great respect, keeping their distance and ensuring our safety. At times we were even escorted by traffic police who were friendly and happy to help whenever we had a puncture – and that was quite often. A perfect example of such hospitality was the time a police officer offered me an apple, which is not exactly the easiest thing to eat on a bicycle. Having politely refused his offer, he came back a few minutes later, with the apple neatly cut in small pieces. To ensure that I eat all the apple without risking falling off, the officer passed on the small pieces, patiently waiting for me to eat each piece slowly whilst cycling.

Although neighboring countries, Syria was so different to Turkey. As we started approaching the Syrian border, the temperatures started soaring, reaching the 46 degree mark in some instances, making it a nightmare for the backup team to ensure that we had a steady supply of cold water. The traffic in Syria was chaotic, a case of survival of the fittest, having to swerve away from vehicles driving on the wrong side of the road or turning off a junction completely ignoring us. Syrian drivers tend to ignore warnings from traffic police – so imagine the chaos. That we survived Syrian traffic without injury is a miracle.

Apart from all this, I also had to contend with some injuries to my knees and ankle – the latter being the most serious. Although I was injected with pain killers and anti-inflammatory I was warned by the doctor that there was a possibility I might have to stop if the injury got worse. Not something I wanted to hear after all those weeks of training and sacrifice. Luckily the pain subsided and I was able to continue and successfully complete the Challenge finishing in Damascus at 3pm on Tuesday 18th August.

We were lucky to be supported by a fantastic backup team who were there all the time to provide us with all the support we needed. They had their fair share of hassles, some of which I am sure we were and never will be aware of. Edward Mercieca's arrest for spying was something that had all the team worried, and thankfully the ordeal, which lasted nine hours, ended happily, with Edward giving a colourful version of the account once he was back, safely, in our midst. My fears relating to food or the lack of it, were unnecessary as the cooking team were fantastic – dishing up varied, nutritious meals in all the places we went to, even when facilities were not so great. The medical team providing us with all that was necessary even in the remotest of places and the rest of the team who provided us with a laugh and a hug when they were most needed!

The success in completing this Challenge has sort of sunk in now. I did feel lost when it was over. A sensation I never thought I'd have. People have asked me whether I would take part again. Before leaving for Lifecycle the answer was a clear and definite No. But now, a month later.....……who knows!

If you want to know more about this year's edition visit - http://betfairlifecycle2009.blogspot.com/ for a day to day account of my participation in the Lifecycle Challenge!

The Challenge begins!

2009-04-26T19:59:00.002+02:00

The dreaded sound of the alarm clock goes off. In reality it doesn’t wake me up as I have been awake for quite some time. A multitude of thoughts run through my mind as I try to fall asleep…..unsuccessfully.

Sunday morning, 19th April. The first official ride of the Betfair Lifecycle Challenge 2009 will take place this morning and will be the start of this year’s training programme, scheduled to last sixteen weeks. Sixteen weeks of progressive training, building and developing our physical and mental fitness to cope with the grueling challenge that awaits us in August.

The Lifecycle Organisation requires no introduction. Since it’s inception in 1999, it has earned a well deserved reputation as being an organisation which organises a tough endurance event that sees dedicated cyclists battle several elements, crossing different countries all over the world averaging around 200 kilometres per day. But the yearly challenge isn’t just about cycling in extreme conditions. The cycling part is a means to an end. Raising funds and awareness about renal disease whilst supporting the Renal Unit at Mater Dei to assist in the upgrading of equipment which will increase the quality of life of patients visiting this unit is a small part of what this organization does.

My thoughts are back on the morning’s planned cycle. 60 kilometres. In all fairness I have cycled that amount of mileage in the past but it was always in a small and relaxed group. This time the group will be much larger. The cyclists’ assessed for their performance. What if I am not up to standard? What if I cannot cope?

Slowly I get out of bed. After having breakfast as instructed by Alan the day before, I put on my cycling gear. Go down to the garage to inspect my bike. Nothing should have changed from last night when I made sure that the tyre pressure was as it should be, the chain was well oiled and spare tube in my pouch. Slowly I set off for our meeting point at the entrance of Mater Dei. Cycling up towards the entrance, I see that the Organising Committee and back-up crew are setting up banners.

Being the first training event, we are having an official send off by the Parliamentary Secretary for Youths and Sport Clyde Puli. Slowly other cyclists start arriving. Some of them have already participated in previous events, others are new and probably feeling a bit lost like me. Although I might not show it I am quite a shy person and it does take me some courage to walk up to someone and introduce myself. But this is part of the Challenge and I start introducing myself to others. I think it is important to start working on building a team spirit from the very start. What if the group doesn’t gel? Team spirit or lack of it can make or break a group.

Getting to know other cyclists

At 9am sharp the Parliamentary Secretary for Youths and Sport Clyde Puli arrives and gives a brief speech. After the speech he goes round speaking to the cyclists, giving words of praise and encouragement and promising his Government’s support.

Lifecycle Deputy Chairman Mario Scerri briefing Parliamentary Secretary for Youths and Sports Clyde Puli on the Challenge and what it stands for

Group photo

It is time to set off on the route set for the day. I am one of the first to start off – mainly so that I can pick up my pace and then keep up as much as I can.

Heading towards the Birkirara by Pass we pick up a steady speed. Soon cyclists start zooming past me. Am I that slow I think? I look at my GPS and I am clocking 25km/hr. Not too bad I think. I continue with my pace, changing gears when necessary. The training I undertook, on my own, the previous week is beneficial as I could experiment with gears, without disrupting anyone’s pace or timings.

At regular intervals we see the back up crew either showing us the way or ensuring that we are fine. A back up vehicle, recognizable by the Betfair Lifecycle Challenge 2009 poster heads back and forth.

Sometimes other cyclists catch up with me and vice –versa. The pace is just right to have brief introductions but as soon as we get to Burmarrad hill, the downhill is too enticing and the majority of us just pedal faster, clocking 52km/hour and more.

Proceeding towards the Bahar ic-Caghaq coast road we are advised by the Backup team to undertake a couple of laps. I can’t help remembering a Facebook Status update a few days before when I commented on the fact that I had built an excellent relationship with the Coast Road having done a couple of laps there the day before. A comment which Sandro, a fellow cyclist, reminded me of just as he whizzed past me!

Cars are driving past me but I keep on focusing on my breathing, speed and occasionally at the wide open sea. Just before I reach Splash and Fun I am flagged down by Alan who advises me to put my bicycle seat higher. I am not too sure as I do not feel comfortable not being able to put my feet flat on the ground however Alan explains that my current posture on the bike will could lead to potential knee problems. The plan is to gradually increase the height of the seat till I feel comfortable enough. As Alan is busy sorting out my seat I see the other cyclists go past. My first thought is that I am going to lag behind but then this is a legitimate and important stop. If I don’t get the basics right at this stage of the challenge the consequences might be dire.

I start off again, heading up the slight incline towards Splash and Fun, Francesca and the girls flag the cars coming from the opposite direction enabling me to turn back and continue my lap. I start pedaling at a faster speed – my goal is to at least catch-up with the rest. In a couple of minutes, I see Carolina paddling on her gold coloured bike. God Bless her! Her bike is loaned and is not exactly the right kind of wheels to have but she is focused and looks determined. As we start the second lap I notice a fellow cyclist, Nigel, showing some signs of discomfort. The traffic lights are red so I stop next to him. He is suffering from cramps and tells me that he has not had breakfast so he is not feeling too well. I promptly give him one of my energy bars and encourage him to eat it. Making sure he is fine, I continue on my ride.

The sun is getting warmer. A gentle reminder of the weather we are to expect in Turkey and Syria this summer. After approximately 44 kms, we are directed to head towards Msida Bocci Club, going past St. Julian’s and Sliema seafront. The Regional Road tunnels are not an option as they are dangerous and it is illegal to cycle through tunnels. The steady climb up Bahar ic-Caghaq hill towards Pembroke is not easy but I keep focused on the cyclists ahead of me keeping a steady gap between us. Once this hill is over it is basically a constant flat road with some downhills towards Msida Bocci Club.

Reaching the Msida Bocci Club I find the backup team waiting for us. Throughout the whole ride they were there either following us in their cars, slowing down to check on us, to see if we are doing well or guiding us from fixed points, giving us words of encouragement. As I stop I realize that we have pedaled over 50kilometres. Admittedly the first 20 kilometres where the most difficult but once my muscles warmed up and I managed to get a steady pace going it felt good. Francesca, our physiotherapist is going around giving us tips on how to stretch our muscles to ensure minimal soreness or injury.

The first group training session is over. As we discuss our performance with the rest of the team, the magnitude of this event starts sinking in.

I feel proud to wear my Betfair Lifecycle Challenge T-Shirt.

Photos courtesy of Ray Pace

El Silencio

2009-02-06T16:42:00.007+01:00

A sombre mood engulfs the otherwise vibrant city of Seville during Semana Santa (Holy Week). Celebrated with great fervour since the 16th century, the importance of Holy Week can immediately be felt by just looking at the Sevillian’s dress code which changes from a normally relaxed attire to more formal dark suite for the men and the mantillas, (lace mantle, stiffened by shell or another material) donned by the ladies, exuding elegance throughout. This custom was revived in the 1980s. The religious aspect of their attire is distinctly visible by the rosary beads that women wear as accessories.

At the heart of Semana Santa are the brotherhoods (Hermandades y Cofradias de Penitencia). The brotherhoods are made up of Catholic lay persons, whose membership is usually a matter of family tradition.

There are approximately fifty nine brotherhoods that make the stations of penance from their affiliated parish church to the Cathedral.

Dressed in their habits, having a distinticve pointed hood, brotherhood members march in pairs and in silence, often barefooted, holding a candle, which is only lit at night.

Others hold incense whilst those known as penitentes carry wooden crosses a sign of public penance. Whilst they wear the habit of the brotherhood, their hood is not pointed.

The earliest known brotherhood (Primitiva Hermandad de Nuestro Padre Jesús Nazareno, known as El Silencio - The Silence) was founded in the mid 14th century. El Silencio, as the name implies, is followed by the watching crowd in silence in the early hours of Good Friday. This procession has a great following, with people thronging the area hours before the start to secure a good place. The very thought of trying to squeeze in is unheard of, and the looks such “invaders” get are enough to silence anyone!

Processions are elaborate affairs. The entire scene, although sombre is at the same time alive with colour and sound. Marching bands of bugles and drums play music, known as the marcha procesiónal - which influences the pace and action of the pasos (religious statues). Some processions, such as El Silencio, march in silence and without music. In key locations the procession stops for a Saeta – a very emotional flamenco solo mournful song sung acappella from balconies. The Saeta echoes through the streets making people feel the solemnity of the Passion, Death and Resurrection of the Lord.

Each procession starts with the Cruz de Guía – (Guiding Cross). The Cross marks the way for the rest of the procession which sees members of the various brotherhoods carrying various effigies of Christ on the Cross, the Virgin Mary and other floats representing the stages of the Passion.

The early hours of Good Friday constitute the most important time of the Seville Easter week celebrations. That night, some of the most venerated statues make their way through the streets, such as Jesús del Gran Poder, la Macarena, el Cristo de los Gitanos and La Esperanza de Triana which is sees the Virgen de la Esperanza which is the most adored and revered Virgin of the city of Seville.

Whether out of piety or curiosity, Semana Santa is a centuries old tradition, bringing people from different religions and parts of the world to experience the ambience and aura of such an occasion.

From exercising restraint from hitting the loud tourist who just pushed you off your precarious piece of pavement, or the deep breath you take when somebody stands on your foot with their pointed stiletto to the smell of orange blossoms, incense and candle wax and despite the fact that Malta has a good tradition of Good Friday processions, Seville’s Semana Santa is one thing that should be on your list of things to do before you die.

Photos copyright Maria Vella-Galea 2008

Getting back on the saddle

2009-01-31T16:26:00.003+01:00

Holding the reins in my left hand, I gingerly put my left foot into the stirrup and swing my right leg over Daffyd's back. Gently I settle into the saddle.

Daffyd makes no movement, waiting till I gently nudge his girth with my calves, signalling that I want him to start walking, making our way out of the stables, slowly, onto the road that leads to the practice arena.

It has been three weeks since I entered that very same arena on Daffyd's back. Three weeks since I flew off, knocking myself unconscious, causing the most unpleasant headache which led to three weeks of rest at home.

My doctor has now given me the all clear. I can start riding slowly again. No jumping for the time being. I won't beat around the bush and say that I am not apprehensive. There is no such thing as a fearless person, fear is one of the most basic human emotions and it serves us well protecting us from danger. In our society admitting to fear is tantamount to showing weakness. But in reality it is not. It is a responsible and sensible way of limiting danger to ourselves and potentially those around us.

Closing the school gate behind me, Tommy, my instructor, advises me to take things slowly. At my own pace. There is no deadline. There is no pressure to prove anything. At the first instance of discomfort I must stop. Things will fall into place, he reassures me whilst I head for the Dressage arena.

Steering Daffyd around the arena a couple of times, I gently progress into a rising trot, achieving an immediate rhythm which Tommy is very pleased with. Slowly we start working on some basic dressage exercises – twenty metre circles in different directions and areas of the school, changing rein, practising a square halt – which requires the horse to bring his fore and hind legs in such a way that when viewed from the side the legs are perfectly in line.

Seeing the direction the training session is taking, Tommy encourages me to undertake a preliminary dressage test. Upon completion, although requiring some fine tuning, the result was very satisfactory and saw me with a grin as big as that of a Cheshire cat. My lesson is over and we slowly head back to the stables.

In equestrian sports, most of the physical work is carried out by the horse but it is the mental attitude of the rider that defines one's limits. Being confined indoors for three weeks, with little to do, gives growth to a number of negative thoughts. It gives you time to start creating a number of “what if” scenarios. Couple that with comments from well meaning friends who give a very graphical example of what could have happened is not conducive to gaining back the mental conditioning required. Ultimately, we need to confront our fears but we must do it in our way and speed. I am just going to do that.

Having stiff muscles from riding again is a great feeling!

Riding into the Sunset

2009-01-19T02:50:00.003+01:00

This article was written almost a year ago following my return from the Trans Andes Horseback trek. The article was published in the July edition of the Sunday Circle. A special thanks goes to the editor Sarah Puntan Galea.

Only one small piece of luggage remained on the revolving carousel which slowly ground to a halt. My luggage, containing all the equipment necessary for my Trans Andes horseback trek is lost somewhere between London and Mendoza, Argentina.

I am exhausted, alone, in the middle of a deserted arrivals hall, on the other side of the world. Realising that my luggage won’t arrive in time, there is not left for me to do but find my hotel and nurse the migraine that had started playing a symphony in my head.

Adrenaline rush

As an adventurous spirit searching for an adrenaline rush, my participation in the Trans-Andes Horseback Trek was a dream that I had ever since I was a little girl. The time never seemed right though…until September 2007 when bored at home one evening, I decided to do a Google search on adventure travel. The first result was a horseback challenge in aid of the Prince’s Trust in the UK which was set up in 1976, by Prince Charles, its purpose being to improve the lives of disadvantaged young people in the UK.

The Challenge consisted of a six-day trek starting off from Mendoza, Argentina and finishing in Santiago, Chile. It would involve riding up to eight hours a day, climbing up mountain passes as high as 5,000 metres, galloping through wide valleys, jumping over streams and negotiating river crossings.

There was only one slight problem. I did not know how to ride a horse. Not exactly the right qualification for such a challenge.

Learning to ride

Signing up for the trek prior to finding an instructor would be the driving force to get me started. Luckily I found a patient and good instructor willing to take up the challenge and getting me up to standard. Come rain or shine I would take lessons, when possible go out on longer rides just to get used to sitting on the saddle. I discovered muscles I never thought I had!

Although I was growing quite comfortable in the English saddle I was using, the trek, being in South America, would see us ride Western style. This style evolved from the ranching and warfare traditions brought to the Americas by the Spanish Conquistadores.

Trans Andes Horseback Trek

Mendoza, situated at the foot of the Andes, was our starting point. Being the only participant from Malta, I travelled separately from the rest of the group and met them in Mendoza a day before we started our trek. Fortunately some of them did not travel as lightly as we were supposed to and could afford to lend me some items of clothing.

Our team leader Louise was instrumental in helping me rent out vital missing equipment – sleeping bag, waterproof trousers and thermal clothing. I just hoped that what I managed to borrow would withstand the possible climate and not end up feeling uncomfortable or cold.

Following a detailed briefing by our guides, it was time to set off on the first part of our journey, a three hour coach ride out of Mendoza to Scaravelli where we met the other gauchos who would lead the trek, prepare our food and ensure that we had a pleasant and safe journey.

The Challenge begins

The horses we were allocated were based on our riding experience and would be our companions for the whole adventure. At this point, it all started to sink in: Here I was at the foot of the Andes, waiting to be given a horse that I would ride, on my own, over a six day stretch.

Many questions started flooding my mind. Would I cope with a strange saddle, would I bond with the horse, would the weather be fine? Happily one of my fears was soon allayed when I was introduced to Mio, a huge six-year-old chestnut with kind eyes. Rodrigo promised me that he had a gentle nature and that I would be fine.

With border formalities over, we mounted our horses and set off on a four-hour ride into Quebrada del Arroyo Grande – a vast ravine high in the mountains which would eventually lead us to our first campsite – Scaravelli lodge. As soon as I sat on the saddle, I immediately felt comfortable – in fact it is much more comfortable to sit on a western saddle, mainly because of all the padding that is placed on the hard leather frame. Though the differences in equipment appear dramatic, in reality there are fewer differences between ‘English’ and ‘Western’ riding, than most people think.

A slow steady pace takes us uphill, on uneven rocky ground. I start thinking about whether I am crazy but, looking at the scenery, absorbing the beauty of the nature around me, I start to relax.

My reverie is soon broken when the horse in front of me suddenly stumbles and falls back, sending Claire flying onto the sharp, rocky ground. I am horrified. Claire is an experienced rider and had never, in her 15 years of riding, fallen. Although she confidently mounts her horse and continues the ride I am quite shaken. This happens just 30 minutes into the ride. I start thinking that perhaps all this was not such a good idea. But I am here. There is nothing I can do. I need to compose myself, concentrate and keep on going.

We set up camp at Scaravelli, in a place called La Mula Muerta - one would think that the name didn't augur well however we were in a sheltered area complete with a corral for the horse, a sheltered kitchen where our gauchos prepared a delicious barbecue and a clean bathroom......yes I am not joking, we had a clean toilet in this campsite!

Honing horse skills

The next day, after breakfast, we embarked on the first part of the day's journey which would take us on a three-hour ascent to the Argentine Portillo, a high and narrow pass cutting through rocky cliffs, standing at 4,380metres. Reaching the Portillo I quickly realise that the way down was going to be quite frightening. The winding track was just about a metre wide and beyond it was a slanting scree. Falling down that scree would not be at all pleasant, so I am not ashamed to admit that at this point I froze. Not usually afraid of heights, abseiling down Mosta bridge headfirst is one of my favourite adrenaline rushes, here I was worried. The difference being that in this situation apart from trusting myself, I had to trust my horse.

Seeing the fear in my eyes, Rodrigo offered me two options – walk down leading Mio in the process or else trust the horse and ride down slowly. For a few seconds I weighed my options – the former was really not going to happen – I was here to trek the Andes on horseback not on foot. Putting full trust in Mio we walked down, slowly, the steep scree. What was a half hour trek seemed an eternity but we made it safely and by nightfall we were all laughing about it over dinner.

The next morning we gave the horses a well deserved rest. After lunch we set off on a short exploratory ride down the valley to Laguna de Los Patos.

It was during this trek that I experienced my first jump. Jumping usually comes almost naturally to horses but both the horse and rider have to have their techniques honed. Combined together we had none! Apprehensive as I was, I had no choice. I had to cross the stream. There weren't any options this time. The terrain gave Mio the necessary space and freedom to stretch out. Following his effortless movement we made it to the other side.

William Faulkner's words came into mind: “There’s something about jumping a horse over a fence that makes you feel good.” I was not feeling good, I was feeling ecstatic! I had done my first jump and I loved the feeling. I realized that I had come along way since my first riding lesson.

The daily challenges continue…

Day four into the trek and we were faced with another challenge – that of crossing, roaring waters with strong currents. As a safety measure we were instructed to wear our backpacks on one shoulder – serving as a quick release should we accidentally fall. If this happened, we were reassured that two gauchos would be positioned on either side of the river bank, armed with ropes which would be thrown in our direction and which we would need to grab so that we could be pulled in to safety.

One by one we coaxed our horses through the river. The currents could be felt pulling at the horses’ feet. There was no stopping. Squeezing Mio's flanks gently we slowly crossed the river. The lack of hesitation from Mio's part was so reassuring, helping me build a stronger trust in him as each day passed.

The weather started deteriorating. A cold biting wind started to blow. The fleece I had managed to borrow was warm, but did not protect me from the wind. I could not help but pray. As we climbed to approximately 3,500 metres we could see Tupungato looming above the dark clouds that started to form above us. A light drizzle started to fall. The wide grassy plain in front of us gave us the opportunity to ride into a fast canter, which the gauchos hoped would bring us closer to Palmares Valley in time for the night.

We did not make it to Palmares. The wind became stronger, and it was decided that it would be safer to find the first sheltered area and camp for the night. We would have to make up for the time lost on the following day, hoping the weather would clear up. The wind made it very difficult to set up the flimsy tents and all of us were wondering whether we would be flying away with our tents during the night!
The next morning, the wind had died down and the temperature was much colder as it had snowed during the night.

Achieving a dream

Our last day of riding would see us reach the steep Portillo Piuquenes – the official border between Argentina and Chile. Standing at 5,000metres it would be the highest pass in our trek. Welcomed by Matthias, waving a Chilean flag, it was time to bid farewell to our horses as Argentine horses are not allowed to enter Chile.

I never thought I would feel so sad at saying goodbye to Mio. I was not the only one to shed warm tears. Mio seemed to sense my sadness and just stood by me whilst I stroked his neck. Trying to lighten up the moment, I joked with the gauchos telling them that I would gladly give up my luggage should it arrive in exchange for Mio.

It was time to go.

Bidding a last farewell, we mounted our new horses and started a three-hour descent towards Plomo River. Reaching San Gabriel we went through Chilean customs formalities and effectively the trek was over.....

..... and I had achieved my dream of riding off into the sunset.

My latest (mis)adventure

2009-01-14T10:39:00.005+01:00

I don't recall much of the accident.

My last recollections are those of jumping my horse Daffyd over a course in preparation for the next day's show jumping competition followed by Leli, the stable owner, cradling my head and telling me not to worry as the ambulance was on its way.

Ambulance I think? Why? Then I recall that there was a fall somewhere in between. But how fast were they to call an ambulance, it is only a fall, not my first. Then the realisation, that this might be more serious than I'd like to think, sinks in.

The pain in my head and the nausea are unbearable. My first reaction is to see what degree of mobility I have. I have heard of too many accidents not to be aware of the potential hazards. Thankfully I can move although Tommy, my instructor, and Leli are begging me to stay still.

I ask if my horse is fine and when I am told he is I am relieved. One less thing to worry about but I can't help thinking that this will be a huge setback on my riding experience since potentially I could lose my nerve and give up riding altogether.

I can hear the ambulance from a distance, well perhaps not such a distance after all as soon after I can hear a doctor asking me what happened, my name etc. My rescue training skills come back to mind when the doctor starts explaining the procedure, what kind of treatment they are giving – just as though a spinal injury has taken place. I know its procedure but still I get a bit worried.

All this has made me tired and want to sleep. Jenny, a fellow rider at the stables has taken the trip on the ambulance with me, tries to keep me awake by constantly calling my name.

I hear a siren, is there another ambulance in the vicinity I wonder? It isn't the case. It is the ambulance I am in being transported in. I feel very disoriented and confused. I try remembering Conrad's number but no luck, I have to ask the guys to take my phone, which I left in my tack room, to call him and advise him. I would have preferred speaking to him myself but I had no choice.

Arriving at the Emergency department, I feel very relieved when I see Herta, Conrad's sister, waiting for me. Such a friendly and familiar face is very reassuring. A doctor comes in to assess the situation, I know him slightly. He asks me how I am feeling ....to which I dryly reply that I have seen better days. He asks me what happened but I don't remember much. Jenny fills him in following the account that Tommy gave her prior to leaving for hospital.

Conrad arrives, I guess he is relieved to see me alive following Tommy's call. I hear his voice, muffled but very concerned. He patiently waits next to me, holding my hand till it is time for an X-Ray and CT scan. Apparently it took quite some time till it was my turn but I don't realise this. I am lucky the CT scan shows a slight brain haemorrhage but no fractures. The doctor says I am very blessed as it could have been worse....much worse.

As is normal procedure I have to stay in hospital under observation for at least 24 hours. Since there has been a head injury, I cannot eat or drink as it might induce vomiting and that could be dangerous to the brain. I am given an intravenous drip which is very uncomfortable but at least the straps and the spinal board are finally removed. They were very uncomfortable, making me feel very claustrophobic....a feeling that I am normally oblivious to!

The next couple of hours are hazy. I only start to focus a bit when friends start coming to see me during the hospital's strict visiting hours routine. Although I try to set their mind at rest by trying to look wide awake and smiling, in reality I am very tired and feel like a zombie. The pain in my head won't go away and finally I fall asleep even before some of them leave.

Thankfully I manage to sleep at night and if it was the case that I was being woken up at regular intervals, this procedure did not affect me. What affected me was the wake up call at 5am – what a rude awakening. Hospital staff start shouting orders and moving objects around as if it were midday. The cherry on the cake was the religious chanting of an old lady, two beds away from me....the double portion was the nurse joining her chants at the top of her voice I felt like chanting a chain of expletives but where would have that taken me? Nowhere!

To my joy I am discharged a few hours later, with strict instructions to rest and take things easy for the next couple of weeks.

I am now resting at home. A slow steady progress towards getting back to my hectic lifestyle. This (mis)adventure has taught me, if anything, that it is during these times you will (1) realise what is really important and (2) who your real friends are.

Having 600 friends on Facebook or on your contacts list doesn't really mean anything if they are just there to add up the numbers.....it is those few friends, who regularly check on you, whether by means of a phone call, SMS, email, message or visit, to make sure that you are still alive, to see if you need anything, to make you smile if you are sad and need cheering up, are those that really matter.

This blog post is dedicated to all those friends who cared.

You don't know how much you mean to me!

MEMORABLE QUOTES

2008-11-26T10:24:00.002+01:00

"A horse is the projection of peoples' dreams about themselves - strong, powerful, beautiful - and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence.”

Pam Browne

Been there, done that!

2008-10-13T11:06:00.008+02:00

Learn to ride and buy a motorbike - proud owner of a Honda CB400 and a classic Vespa

Climb a mountain - Mount Rainier, Mount Kilimanjaro, Mont Blanc, Mount Snowdown

Uhuru Peak - The roof of Africa, Mt. Kilimanjaro, Jan 2007

Mount Rainier, Washington State, June 2005

Learn rock climbing - don't do it so often, have recently discovered Via Ferrata - what fun!!!

Go on a safari in the Serengeti - seeing wild animals - Elephants, lions, cheetahs, hippos at close range - how beautiful nature can be

See Robbie Williams in Concert - July 2006, San Siro Stadium, Milan - WOW!!!

Learn how to ride a horse, and go on a horseback trek, buy a horse - yes, one year on still taking lessons, trekked the Andes from Mendoza, Argentina to Santiago, Chile and am a proud owner of a 5 year old chestnut - Daffyd

Take a tram ride in San Francisco - what an experience, reminds me of the times I used to watch the Streets of San Francisco when Michael Douglas was still handsome!

Go ice climbing - Dolomites on New Year's Day 2000 - what a great way to start the new millenium!

Go on a hot air balloon ride - sunrise over the desert in Dubai - a magical experience.

Experience the white nights - Tampere, Finland June 2002. Partying late at night but having full daylight at 2am was a surreal experience.

Go white water rafting and canyoning - Mayrhofen in the Zillertal region in August 2007, participating in the Ability Challenge, I experienced both canyoning and white water rafting - great fun. Won't be the last time!

Visit New Orleans and get tipsy in Bourbon Street - A couple of weeks before Katrina struck I visited New Orleans - what a vibrant place - one hopes that it has not lost all it's magic

Get involved in a charity or charitable organisation - My participation in the Kilimanjaro and Ability Challenges saw me get involved in the organising committees - hard work but very fulfilling.

Create a website or blog - here's my work of art!

Journey to the Summit

2008-09-20T18:39:00.015+02:00

Waking up in the Chalet, and looking out to the Mont Blanc range from my bedroom window I could not help but think about the previous evening’s briefing.

Neil had been very clear about what we were about to face in the coming days. This was not going to be a walk in the park. The following days were going to be tough, cold, stressful and physically very demanding.

Sitting down to a hearty breakfast and the animated chatter of our Irish team mates, I try to push my nerves and apprehension to a back burner. Not very successful is my attempt as they affect my appetite. My stomach has decided to close itself up making the digestion of a fresh croissant as difficult as trying to chew a stone, but I need the energy and I make an effort to have a good breakfast.

Shortly after breakfast Miles and Jean Marc arrive at the chalet. They will be assisting Neil in guiding this trip. Miles is American from Seattle and Jean Marc is French from the Ardeche region. As instructed in the previous night’s briefing we all lay out our equipment for checking.

Jean Marc comes in to check our equipment ensuring that our equipment is adequate for the coming adventure. After the inspection we go downstairs to collect our helmets, harnesses, crampons and ice axes. Boots will be hired from a shop down in Les Houches.

Neil explains that today will be an easy day with a short three hour trek to the Albert Premier Hut, which at approximately 2,300m will be our refuge for the night. After buying food and last minute equipment from Chamonix we head off to the Telecabine du Tour to catch the cable car which will take us to the start of the trek.

Prior to setting off on the cable car, Neil, Miles and Jean Marc take a quick look at our equipment. The weather forecast is not good – rain is predicted. It’s not a matter of if but when it will start pouring. Waterproofs on we head towards the Telecabine. A short ride up to higher altitudes takes us to the start of the trek. The weather is deteriorating fast and we can barely see the chairs in front of us.

The trek takes us about three hours and as Neil explained was a straight forward one taking us through a narrow path on the mountain side. The downpour increases as we progress along the rocky track but does not deter us from stopping occasionally to take a photo of our surroundings. Although the trek was moderate with an average gradient, I feel my calf muscles working hard. I am thankful for the hours spent at the gym lifting weights and working the step machine. Although I am not feeling cold, the cold climate makes it difficult for my muscles to warm up.

John, one of the Brits, takes a very fast pace but we do not attempt to catch up with him. This was not a race after all. Keeping Andy’s words “keep breathing from your mouth” in my head I just did so filling my lungs with the air which became thinner as we reached higher altitudes. As the Tanzanians always used to warn us when climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro the pace has to be pole pole (Swahili for slowly slowly). In an attempt to better acclamatise ourselves the forthcoming days would be spent trekking up higher altitudes but evenings would be spent at lower altitudes.

As we slowly made our way up, Conrad’s feet started to be plagued by blisters. Not good to have those on the very first day. The misery on his face was so evident as we climbed the last few metres to the Albert Premier hut, which would give us shelter from the storm that was fast approaching us.

The Albert Premier hut is an overcrowded and primitive hut. Although the toilets have running water, they are dirty, mainly due to the fact that there are only three loos to serve approximately hundred climbers at a time.

As soon as we change our boots for slippers, which are provided in every hut, we are shown to our dormitory. Two rows of bunk beds, housing approximately twenty crammed climbers are found in each of the five dormitories. We are provided with a pillow and duvet which at initial glance does not convince me that it will provide me with the warmth I require. I lay out my belongings on my duvet, a sign to others that this bed is taken. Conrad is sitting on the next bed, carefully nursing and medicating his blisters some of which are quite nasty. Hopefully the blister packs that we bought will alleviate some of the misery.

Our turn for dinner is booked for 7pm. There are two sittings in order to feed all the climbers. Our group is settled in the far end of the room. Squeezed on benches, just as if we were like a can of sardines, it is impossible to maneuver. A friendly member of the kitchen staff shortly turns up with two large pots of hot pumpkin soup which is served with pieces of bread and cheese. We do not know what is going to be served after this so I decide to take two helpings just in case the second course is not as appetising. The wind outside is becoming stronger and the crowded room provides a welcome warmth.

Soup quickly finishes and shortly after we are served with a plate of bolognaise pasta. The sauce is not too bad but the pasta is far from al dente, but actually quite rubbery. Under normal circumstances I would not have eaten it but we need carbohydrates to provide us with energy to attempt the climb in the next day. However I draw a line when bowls of rice pudding are shoved onto our table. Neil is encouraged by Alice to have some which he does but abandons his spoon in the bowl, deciding to leave his portion relatively untouched, after the first morsel. When all the plates are taken away, the spoon is removed and I have a strong suspicion that this was not the last that we saw of this rice pudding!

After dinner, we all huddle together on a table and play cards. The Irish group teaches us the game of 45, which is a complicated game involving manipulation and guesswork. Conrad, Neil and I are beginners so each of us is ‘assigned’ to someone to help us play. Marie takes me under her wing and we spend the next hour playing this game which through beginner’s luck and her assistance I win. Mary, an Irish university lecturer decides to read our fortune through cards. Whilst normally I would not undertake such an offer, she clearly explains that it is just a bit of harmless fun which should not be taken seriously.

My cards are quite interesting – they show that I am full of adventure and seek adventurous challenges, haven’t been too lucky in love and that there is a blonde alpha male somewhere in my life. Naturally all eyes were focused on Conrad because he is clearly not blonde but the fun of this card exercise was a welcome distraction from the thoughts that were going through our minds.

Prior to settling down for the night, Neil gives us a quick briefing - breakfast tomorrow will be at 5am and we leave the hut at 6am sharp - we cannot delay as we need to try to get as much good weather as possible.

Bedtime is at 9pm. It’s very dark outside and a blustery wind is blowing outside. The duvet, as predicted does not offer the warmth I need so I resort to wearing my thermals and warm fleece. Thankfully I drift into welcome sleep after a few minutes, the warmth generated by all the bodies in the room enveloping me into sweet slumber.

Journey or Destination?

2008-09-14T10:21:00.002+02:00

As I sit down on my bed, nursing the damaged ligaments in my knee, the adventure is over.

Although the ending was not quite as I had hoped for, my climbing trip to the Mont Blanc range can be thought of as being successful. Why would I look at it as being successful when in reality I never reach the summit, irrespective of any reason preventing me from doing so?

Well, the answer is all about being positive. I might not have reached the summit (reasons and explanations will be given out in subsequent chapters of this story) but I experienced adventure that few people I know would dream of. I have scaled new heights - literally, physically and mentally. I have made new friends, discovered new talent and above all learnt more about myself and what I am capable of and what skills I need to develop.

But most of all I've learnt that at times it's all about the journey not the destination!

Able, ready and willing

2008-08-28T10:21:00.004+02:00

Kitted up in overalls, already muddied by the previous adventurer, I start to descend the iron steps that lead deep down into the centre of the earth. A wave of adrenaline rushes through my bloodstream. Slowly I start descending, making sure my karabiners are secured to the iron cable that serves as a safety line, the world’s only underground Via Ferrata. Italian for "iron road", a Via Ferrata is usually a mountain route which is equipped with fixed cables, wooden steps, ladders, and bridges however, here in La Mouliere, this technique is used to discover this cave. Stalactites and stalagmites bear a testimony of this centuries old cave.

As I go down I only pause to give instructions to Chris, a thirty six year old Ability Challenge participant. Chris has a hearing impairment so I have to explain how to proceed to the next level of the cave by using sign language, slow speech and clear demonstrations on how to use the safety equipment provided for this journey. The dim light provided by our torches is not conducive to easy communication but this is all part and parcel of the Ability Challenge.

Just out of the cave....muddy but happy

The Ability Challenge, now in its third year, is organised by the Razzett tal-Hbiberija and it’s objective is to provide participants with a unique opportunity to push themselves to the limits whilst allowing space for personal growth and self-development. More importantly it gives able bodied participants the opportunity to interact with individuals having a physical disability removing physical, mental and social barriers.

The Challenge consists of a full week of adrenaline pumping activities including Paragliding, Canyoning, Mountain Biking, Caving, Trekking and Kayaking. The activities are supervised by qualified personnel from the Razzett tal-Hbiberija as well as professional guides trained in the various disciplines being undertaken to ensure that no unnecessary risks are taken and to ensure the well being of each participant.

Ready to jump into the Canyon at St. Auban

The South of France provided a wonderful backdrop for all the activities, giving the twenty eight participants the opportunity to paraglide over typical French hillside villages.

Perfect landing after a 20 minute paraglide over Greolieres

Kayak approximately half a mile offshore from the French Riviera town of Cannes to the Île Sainte-Marguerite, the island famous for its fortress prison in which the so-called Man in the Iron Mask was held in the 17th century.

Kayaking, with Chris, from Cannes to Ile Ste. Margerite

Delve deep into the centre of the earth during a caving expedition. Enjoy an orienteering game during a trek through lush forests whilst enjoying the clean and fresh mountain air of the French Alps.

Orienteering ourselves during the trekking activity

Taking a break from the steep uphills of La Mouliere

Participants, split into teams of seven, were accommodated in tipi tents located in a sheltered campsite in the middle of a forest. Kitchen facilities were basic which made preparing food for twenty eight people quite a task. Each day a different team was responsible for the preparation of breakfast, lunch and dinner as well as the subsequent cleaning of the kitchen. No one was exempted from these duties.

Taking a break from kitchen duties

The campsite was equipped with three showers which at most times did not have hot water, thus making it very interesting to see the number of techniques adopted by participants to ensure that they were in time to savour some hot water, especially after a day spent canyoning, jumping and swimming in freezing cold water!

This is the third time that I have participated in such a Challenge. The adrenaline rush provided by the various activities fades in comparison to the satisfaction that one feels when through team work a person with a disability successfully completes an activity which to us might seem like child’s play.

One can really see the effect the Ability Challenge has on persons with a disability. I could see the great improvement from last year by two participants that decided to experience the Ability Challenge again this year.

The return home.....a group of happy, satisfied and tired participants

MEMORABLE QUOTES

2008-08-06T16:04:00.001+02:00

"No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars,
or
sailed to an uncharted land,
or
opened a new doorway to the human spirit"

Helen Keller, Writer

The White Taxi

2008-07-21T23:20:00.004+02:00

7am. Saturday morning. Although the weatherman has promised us another relentlessly hot day, the sun has not yet made her strong presence felt. A cool, crisp early morning breeze gently brushes my face as I prepare to go out for a spin on my beloved Honda. A bright yellow CB400, of which I am proud owner since February 2007.

I am purposely selective when riding my bike. When buying the bike, I was looking at the pleasure of riding on open empty roads rather than looking at the practicality of it all, even though our heavily congested roads do encourage such means of transportation.

Riding early in the morning, on relatively quiet and resurfaced roads, is a joy that I have recently rediscovered and started to indulge in again. Not usually being a morning person, my passion for riding outweighs my natural instinct to enjoy a long lie-in.

Nothing beats the feeling of tackling a sharp bend. Feeling the wind against my bare arms keeping me cool from the warmth that radiates from the engine. Just looking at my shadow driving ahead of me on the long stretch of smooth road leading from Mosta to Gnejna. Simple pleasures.

However the concentration required to ride safely whilst enjoying the whole experience is sometimes jolted by some irresponsible and ignorant driver who shows no respect towards bikers who are out for a pleasure ride, minding their own business. Whilst there are a number of irresponsible riders who annoy other motorists with their reckless driving however it is no excuse and riders should be treated with equal if not more respect.

Case in point. Saturday morning. Qormi/Zebbug roundabout. A white taxi, belching black smoke profusely, decides to overtake from my left hand side, in the narrowest part of the road. I find it hard to believe that he has not seen my brighly coloured bike. I give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he has had a busy night, ferrying tourists to and from the airport. Perhaps he is tired and just wants to go home to sleep. Whilst attempting to keep my balance, I politely make use of my horn just to make him aware of my existence. He has in fact seen me. His response? A pudgy middle finger, attached to a fat hairy hand, promptly waved from his window. What is the use of sending some expletives in his direction? Even if he hears me through my full face helmet why should I stoop to his level?

I find myself thinking what a blessing the recent public transport strike was. The roads were safer and less polluted. Motorists less inclined towards fits of road rage. Selfish as it might sound, the roads are better off without the majority of these people. Whilst not all taxi, bus or minivan drivers are thugs or thugs in the making, I think that deep down we all agree that the bulk of these drivers are rude, do not give two hoots about the environment and even less to the rest of the population who has to endure their troglodyte behaviour.

The Art of Dressage

2008-06-19T18:08:00.006+02:00

"Riding a horse is not a gentle hobby,
to be picked up and laid down like a game of Solitaire,
It is a grand passion"

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 82)

Dressage, a French term, most commonly translated to mean "training", is a path and destination of competitive horse training.

Its fundamental purpose is to develop, through standardised progressive training methods, a horse's natural athletic ability and willingness to perform. Dressage is occasionally referred to as "Horse Ballet"

Prior to setting off on my Argentine Andes adventure I had no inclination to participate in competitions, although giving up riding had clearly not become an option.

On the 31st May 2008, I participated in the pre-preliminary Dressage competition at the Tal-Maghtab Stables. The heat of the afternoon sun was beating upon Jasper and myself. Although each rider takes approximately four minutes to complete the course, it felt like ages before I could start practising.

A foreword in a book I recently read about horse riding describes the horse and its rider as a six legged creature. Mounting the horse is just not merely seating oneself on a form of transport but a metamorphosis occurs making the horse and rider into one.

It is soon my turn. Dressed in accordance with the formality of the competition, I no longer feel the heat in my black jacket. I hear the whistle. It is time to start.

Although I have practised the course regularly I am afraid that I will forget the sequence of exercises. Will I lead Jasper properly to form a correct twenty metre circle? Will I change reign at the right time? As soon as I enter the school I become one with Jasper. We are ready!

Throughout the course, I block all that is around me. All I can hear is Jasper breathing. Soft words of encouragement are said, his ear's movement indicating an acknowledgement.

In four minutes I have completed my course. I halt at the imaginary G and salute the Dutch judge who in an gentlemanly fashion stands up and lifts his hat, saluting me back.

It is over. I have thoroughly enjoyed this experience. Whatever the outcome, I am satisfied.

Author's Note: My satisfaction was further enhanced when it was announced that I had placed third in my category. I had competed against seasoned riders and I had done well.

Photography - Conrad Chircop May 2008

Despair

2008-06-02T08:40:00.004+02:00

Copyright Maria Vella-Galea, May 2008

How could a dog, man's supposed best friend, end up like this?

The sadness in his eyes was so intense. Moving close to him to take this picture he attempted to wag his tail. The result was a feeble movement.

All he wanted was some love.......

MEMORABLE QUOTES

2008-05-19T16:03:00.005+02:00

“We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy”

Walter Anderson

Fighting our Demons

2008-05-05T00:42:00.004+02:00

What if I stop growing and learning....

...stop having fun and developing mentally.....

Stagnation is one of the demons I try to fight on a regular basis and that is why I am constantly on the go, looking for new adventures and challenges.

You might ask why such a topic to upload on my blog? Well the Personal Development and Media course that I am currently attending in Prespa, Greece required my team and I to develop a workshop for our fellow participants in the course.

After long discussions that went well into the night, some soul searching and hot topics, we decided to focus on universal theme - Fear. The name we chose for the workshop was "Fighting your Demons".

The result was a very successful and frank discussion. We felt that the workshop would be more effective if the Team shared their own fears as well using a combination of text, images and audio.

This fear may seem irrelevant to some people out there but it is not to me and that is why I chose to share it

Written in Prespa, Greece whilst undergoing Universal Eye Training. May 2008

MEMORABLE QUOTES

2008-04-09T17:25:00.001+02:00

"It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves"

Sir Edmund Hillary

MEMORABLE QUOTES

2008-04-07T08:29:00.001+02:00

"Your true traveller finds boredom rather agreeable than painful.
It is the symbol of his liberty - his excessive freedom"

Aldous Huxley, writer

Things I want to do before my time has come - PART 2

2008-03-31T11:48:00.005+02:00

Back in November, I published a list of things that I would like to do before I die. From the 27 items on my list, I am happy to say that I managed to do 14 from the original list and three others that were not listed.....but having said that the list seems to be growing.

ACHIEVED

Learn to ride and buy a motorbike - November 2006, bike (Honda CB 400)purchased January 2007
Climb a mountain - Mount Kilimanjaro January 2007
Learn rock climbing - May 2003
Go on a safari in the Serengeti - January 2007
See Robbie Williams in Concert - July 2006 - San Siro Stadium Milan
Learn how to ride a horse, and go on a horseback trek - February 2008 - Trans Andes horseback trek - Mendoza, Argentina to Santiago, Chile
Take a tram ride in San Francisco - December 2002
Learn how to ice climb - Dolomites, Italy January 2000
Experience the white nights - Tampere, Finland, June 2002
Go white water rafting - Austria, August 2007
Get involved in a charity or charitable organisation - 2006, 2007 Park of Friendship (offering services to persons with a Disability), 2006 Kilimanjaro Challenge 3...it won't stop here though
Create your website or blog - 2007 you are reading it!
Visit New Orleans and get tipsy in Bourbon Street - June 2005
Find the love of my life - January 2008 :) not giving too many details :)
Go on a hot air balloon ride - Dubai, April 2007
Visit Buenos Aires, Argentina - February 2008
See and feel the power of the Iguazu Falls - February 2008
Participate in Equestrian Competitions (show jumping, dressage) - in progress

WORKS IN PROGRESS
Travel Route 66 on a bike
Travel to all the continents - in progress
Spend Christmas, in a mountain chalet, complete with log fire and snow outside
Abseil from a helicopter
Walk the Great Wall of China (if not all part of it)
SCUBA dive in the Red Sea or Great Barrier Reef
Do the Macchu Pichu trail in Peru
Learn how to ski
Visit the Golan Heights and the Holy Land
Swim with Dolphins
Do Lifecycle Challenge (a gruelling bike ride, usually going through unfamiliar territory, mega steep hills and unfriendly places)
Go dog sledding in Lapland
Reach the summit of Mont Blanc- (in progress, currently training for it)
Participate in Equestrian Competitions (show jumping, dressage) - in progress
Buy my own horse and calling him Rafiki (meaning friend in Swahili)
Buy a BMW motorbike and visit Europe overland
Organise a photographic exhibition - my own works of course!

MEMORABLE QUOTES

2008-03-27T11:59:00.000+01:00

We are all travellers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend

Robert Louis Stevenson, writer

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (19)

2008-03-22T18:45:00.006+01:00

Photo copyright Alejandro Morassi 2008

After spending the second night at Real de La Cruz, we were faced with the challenge of crossing the Tunayan river. Although not deep, currents were strong and most of us were apprehensive of this crossing.

I followed the gauchos' advice to trust our horses. I did not regret it. Mio proved to be a strong, sure footed and good natured horse.

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (18)

2008-03-22T18:40:00.003+01:00

Photo copyright Alejandro Morassi 2008

Photo taken near Real de la Oveja on the third day of the Trans Andes Trek. My horse, was an adorable six year old called Mio - with whom I bonded instantly.

And on the eighth day God created Iguazu.....

2008-03-02T19:16:00.007+01:00

During the planning stages of my Argentine trip, my friends who previously visited Argentina insisted that I visit Iguazu Falls, or Cataratas del Iguazú. After such insistence, I cut short my visit to Chile and headed off towards Misiones. On my way there I kept thinking to myself "this had better be worth it!". It is easy to build expectations, but when these are too high, disappointment can be higher.

The waterfalls are located on the border of the Brazilian state of Paraná and the Argentine province of Misiones and their name comes from the Guarani or Tupi words Y(water) and ûasú (big. Legend has it that a god planned to marry a beautiful aborigine named Naipí, who fled with her mortal lover Tarobá in a canoe. In rage, the god sliced the river creating the waterfalls, condemning the lovers to an eternal fall.

The sheer beauty of these falls, especially Devil's Throat is difficult to describe in words, one has to experience it in person to actually realise the beauty of such a place, where one can see what a beautiful world God created for us!

Photo Copyright Maria Vella-Galea 2008

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (17)

2008-03-02T19:00:00.003+01:00

Finally I managed to take a picture with the horse I rode through out the Challenge.

Mio, who whenever I would stand close to him would rub his nose affectionately against me, is six years old. He was very good natured and calm but at the same time very responsive making him the ideal horse for me, especially in view of my limited riding experience.

Mount Tupungato standing at 6570m, is in the background.

Sunrise on Scaravelli

2008-03-02T18:47:00.005+01:00

This photo was taken from my tent, at Scaravelli Lodge campsite, 3,200m up in the Andes, on the second day of the Trans Andes horseback trek

Photo Copyright - Maria Vella-Galea 2008

City of the dead

2008-03-02T13:23:00.003+01:00

La Recoleta Cemetery is located in the exclusive neighbourhood of the same name in Buenos Aires and is the final resting place of many influential and important Argentines. Perhaps the most important or rather well known being Eva Duarte de Perón or as most people know her Evita!

Neo-classical gates with tall Greek columns welcome visitors to this necropolis however the cemetery contains many elaborate marble mausoleums, decorated with statues, in a wide variety of architectural styles. The entire cemetery is laid out in sections like city blocks, with wide tree-lined main walkways branching into sidewalks filled with mausoleums.

Each mausoleum bears the family name etched into the facade; brass or bronze plaques are added to the front for particular family members. While many of the mausoleums are in fine shape and well-maintained, others have fallen into disrepair. Several can be found with broken glass, littered with rubbish.

La Recolta is the final resting place of statesmen such as Juan Bautista Alberdi (1810-1884), Nicolás Avellaneda (1837-1885), Miguel Juárez Celman (1844-1909), Arturo Umberto Illia (1900-1983),Bartolomé Mitre (1821-1906), Honorio Pueyrredón (1876-1945), Hipólito Yrigoyen (1852-1933), (most of which have streets named after them) as well as people such as William Brown (1777-1857), Admiral, Father of the Argentine Navy, Susan Barrantes, (1937-1998), mother of Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York, Enrique Larreta (1875-1961), writer, Luis F. Leloir (1906-1987), scientist, Nobel Prize winner in Chemistry, and Carlos Menditeguy (1915-1973), race car driver and sportsman.

Traditionally La Recoleta is one of those cemeteries where the tradition of engraving a death date but no birth date has been maintained and another practice that we might not be too familiar with, is that of having coffins placed within the crypt, visible to all rather than buried deep in the ground.

Although perhaps not as famous as Père-Lachaise (Paris, France and reputed to be the world's most-visited cemetery) La Recoleta still is manages to attract thousands of visitors annually, perhaps thanks to the fact of it being the final resting place of Eva Duarte de Peron.

All photos Copyright - Maria Vella-Galea 2008

Memorable Quotes

2008-01-29T08:48:00.000+01:00

The grand essentials of happiness are something to do, something to love and something to hope for.

Allan K. Chalmers

Preparing for the Trans Andes Horse Trek

2008-01-21T01:22:00.001+01:00

The Trans Andes Trek is an eight day horseback trek covering 150 kilometers on horseback, starting from Mendoza riding into the Andes passing through pristine mountainous environments, camping along the way in areas such as Rio Tunuyan, Real de la Oveja, Portillo Argentino, Base of Tupungato finishing in Santiago in Chile.

The trek will start on the 2nd February and will end on the 10th. Some days will see us riding for three hours but others will see us riding for over eight hours. Naturally such a trek requires a good degree of confidence in the saddle and that is why, for the past four months, I have been training regularly over the weekends and when possible even during the week.

This trek is being done for charity in aid of The Prince's Trust in the UK, which is now in its 30th year and is a leading charity in the UK. Its objective is to help young people aged between 14 - 30 years of age to overcome barriers and get their lives working. Their focus is on those who have struggled at school, are in care, long term unemployed or even have been in trouble with the law. Through practical support, training, mentoring and even financial support these young people can discover their true potential and thus transform their lives into success stories.

More info - www.princes-trust.org.uk

Photos taken by Jeremy de Maria

Il-Kappella ta Sant'Anna

2008-01-19T22:11:00.000+01:00

Photo copyright - Maria Vella-Galea 2008

This chapel is dedicated to St. Anne's and is found in Dwejra in the island of Gozo. Although bearing little resemblance, this church reminds me of the Misson Dolores, one of the first buildings in San Francisco.

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (16)

2008-01-19T22:02:00.000+01:00

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (15)

2008-01-14T21:34:00.000+01:00

Taking the plunge in the icy cold waters of the Ziller River valley in Mayrhofen Austria, last August

Breaking News

2008-01-06T14:20:00.000+01:00

(Trans. - Maltese contingent returns home after their bad experience on Mount Etna)

News headlines on Monday 9th October 2006 - the day we returned from our adventure on Mount Etna - more info on this adventure can be found in the my post - Let's set the record straight!

Memorable Quotes

2008-01-02T10:23:00.000+01:00

We will open the book
Its pages are blank
We are going to put words on them ourselves
The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.

~Edith Lovejoy Pierce

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (14)

2007-12-14T23:19:00.001+01:00

Photo courtesy of Johann Mellilo

I named this little monster Gucci, and only held him in my hands upon the insistence of my friend Johann. The photo was taken in the Louisiana Bayou (a bayou is a watercourse, usually the offshoot of a river or lake in a lowland area) whilst visiting New Orleans, a couple of weeks before Hurricane Katrina struck.

Lust for Life

2007-12-08T12:35:00.000+01:00

"Life has no meaning unless one lives it with a will, at least to the limit of one's will. Virtue, good, evil are nothing but words, unless one takes them apart in order to build something with them,they do not win their true meaning until one knows how to apply them"
Paul Gauguin (1848-1903) French artist

One's will should be that of living life with a joie de vivre enjoying the simple pleasures which should not be taken forgranted. Life is to short trying to understand what might have gone wrong in the past - things will go wrong in our lives and whether trivial or serious each can have a strong effect in our emotions, which if allowed to, can send one into a deep spiral of sadness and misery.

Although I have certain moments when I feel that the world is crashing on me, I try to make the effort to stop and think at what my life is really all about. I try to take comfort in the fact that I had a happy childhood and not think that in general I had a miserable life at school.

I try to think of how lucky that I have found good friends in the past years and not dwell on the fact that in reality I did not keep contact with most of my school friends.

I look at past successes - be it from a professional or personal perspective and enjoy the greater sense of achievement when realising that the road leading towards these successes was a bumpy ride.

I think of my to do list - things I want to do before I die - I might not necessarily achieve them but they are there for the taking.

At the end of the day it's all up to me!!!!

Memorable Quotes

2007-12-08T09:52:00.000+01:00

"If I were a girl I'd despair
The supply of good women far exceeds
that of the men who deserve them"

Robert Graves (b.1895 d. 1985)

ROMA - Caput Mundi

2007-12-08T08:37:00.000+01:00

Through the passages of time, Rome has left its mark. From the start of the Roman Empire, throughout the development of Christianity through to the present day, over 2,500 years of history have turned Rome into an archaeological and anthropological archive of Western culture.

Rome is all about ruins dating from early Roman times, the art of Michelangelo, Bernini sculptures, ivy clad palazzi - which although now most probably housing offices still offer the visitor a sense of grandeur, refreshing fountains such as the largest fountain in Rome - Trevi which represents the moods of the sea, cobbled streets and perfectly formed piazzas full of coffee shops and restaurants.

The moods of the sea, represented here in the Fontana di Trevi

Piazza Campo dei Fiori - vegetable market by day, entertainment area by night

Since ancient times Rome has been fertile ground for architectural and artistic creativity. The Romans perfected existing engineering and construction techniques which were put into good use servicing the needs of the mighty Roman Empire. Traces of these constructions, such as the Colosseo, can still be seen to this day proving the great expertise of the Romans at that time.

Roman, Middle Ages, Renaissance, Counter Reformation, Baroque until the 20th century Rome has seen a wild flurry of creativity and artistic activity be it in architecture or the arts. Michelangelo, Caravaggio, Bernini and his magnificent design for the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi in the centre of Piazza Navona. The story goes that Bernini’s figure of the Nile shielding his eyes from the sight of the church of Chiesa di Sant’Agnese in Agone, which was built by rival architect Francesco Borromini.

Scalinata di Spagna or The Spanish Steps built between 1723 and 1726 where the focal point of Europe’s elite during their Grand Tour (those days’ equivalent of the Gap Year taken by many foreign youths) to discover and savour Rome’s classical past. Famed Romantic poet and author John Keats, died at the age of 25 in a house overlooking the Spanish Steps.

No matter what religion or faith you embrace a visit to the Vatican is a must – Bernini’s Square (Piazza San Pietro) is considered to be one of the world’s largest spaces laid out in the 17th century for congregating Christians. Bernini once described the columns as symbolising the open arms of the Church. St. Peter’s Basilica amazes and is the product of the many artistic geniuses that lived and worked in Rome.

The basilica took over 150 to complete, a project taken over by Michelangelo at the age of 72. Contributors towards the majestic beauty of this building include Bramante, Raphael, Carlo Maderno, Antonio di Sangallo and of course Michelangelo. No visit to the Vatican would be complete without absorbing the beauty of Michelangelo’s Pieta, the Sistine Chapel, Bernini’s Baldacchino and the view of Rome from the top of the basilica.

Rome was not built in a day and cannot be seen in a day – it's beauty needs to be absorbed slowly and its vibe experienced throughout a number of visits

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (13)

2007-12-08T08:29:00.000+01:00

Photo taken at Villa D'Este, Rome - March 2006

Ten Days in Provence - Chapter 1 Marseilles

2007-12-05T22:54:00.002+01:00

There is more to this region than pastis, boules or medieval villages perched on hillsides. Fragrant lavender fields, beaches, gastronomical delights, festivals and yes, charming folk are all part of this sun kissed Mediterranean region.

Way back in June 2003, my friend Rosanne and I spent ten wonderful days touring Provence in our hired Renault Megane – whilst I provided my driving skills, Rosanne was instrumental in giving me the right directions to which ever village we decided to visit during that time.

Our itinerary started off from Marseilles, which is just a short, direct flight from Malta. Marseilles was previously a notorious city with a high crime rate but in recent years it has developed into a cosmopolitan city, offering a variety of sights sounds and smells to those willing to explore it on foot.

Stairs leading to the Panier District, now a seedy district that during WWII had a strong Resistance presence and was heavily bombed by the Germans

Although the western area of Marseilles is somewhat an eyesore due to rapid industrialisation in the past years, the southern tip can be described as France's most dramatic coastline - with a series of sharp ridged overhanging rocks known as Les Calanques (rocky inlets) leading on to the famed village of Cassis, which lends its name to wine produced there.

The harbour entrance is guarded by two Forts - on the southern side is the Fort St. Nicolas whilst just opposite one finds the Fort St. Jean which incidentally was founded in the 13th century by the Knights Hospitaller of St. John of Jerusalem. Bringing in the daily catch

Ships have docked in the Vieux Port area for over twenty six centuries, and whilst the major commercial docks were moved to Joliette area, the Vieux Port remains an active area for pleasure yachts, fishing boats and ferries sailing towards the Chateau d’If.

The Chateau d'If was a fortress turned prison, built in the 16th century on a three hectare island and made notorious by Alexandre Dumas in his classic novel Le Comte de Monte Cristo.

Seaview Accommodation on the Chateau d'If

The island prison, which is approximately 3.5kms away from the old port, was home to a number of political prisoners, revolutionaries,Communards of 1871and Protestants. Sailing to the island from the Vieux Port takes around 20 minutes and is quite a pleasant trip – that is if you are going to the island out of your own free will!

From a gastronomical perspective, no visit to Marseilles would be complete without tasting Bouillabaisse, a fish stew generally containing at least four different types of fresh fish cooked in a rockfish broth containing garlic, saffron, tomatoes, onions and herbs such as bay leaves, parsley and thyme. The secret of Provencale cooking does not lie in elaborate preparation techniques but the use of fresh ingrediates used and grown locally.

Photos Copyright Maria Vella-Galea 2003

The Snows of Kilimanjaro

2007-11-24T16:59:00.000+01:00

"There, ahead all he could see, as wide as all the world,
great, high, and unbelievably white in the sun,
was the square top of Kilimanjaro"

Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro

Kilimanjaro, rises majestically like a solitary giant above the grassy plains of the East African savannah. The sight of it is overwhelming, the first time I catch sight of it after months of preparation, I get goosebumps all over my body. Here I was trekking towards the roof of Africa.

The name Kilimanjaro evokes scenes of wonder and mystery, far away places and eternal snows (with global warming that might be an issue in the near future)- the first time I ever heard of the mountain was when I was a child and heard of the movie The Snows of Kilimanjaro - ironically I haven't had the time to watch this movie.

The diversity of Kilimanjaro's terrain is astonishing - lower reaches are blanketed in dense, humid rain forest, whilst its summit slopes are capped by ice but it is also a mountain under tremendous pressure.

Kilimanjaro is accessible to all and many. Despite its pristine limitless slopes Kili is fragile and can only bear so many people trudging up and down it's slopes. The sad part is that not many people really care about taking care of the preservation policies devised by the Tanzanian government, limiting the amount of people who can visit the park on an annual basis.

Almost a year after having summit ed Kili, this mountain still keeps a firm hold on my imagination and although I am not planning on going there in the near future I am sure that should I venture again on those slopes, I will keep on discovering more of this fascinating mountain.

Memorable Quotes

2007-11-22T20:48:00.000+01:00

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.“

Gandhi

Riders on the Storm

2007-11-17T17:50:00.000+01:00

Ironic or appropriate that this morning, whilst out for my horse riding lesson, I was riding Storm, when a hailstorm hit us over the Mtahleb hills.

Leaving the stables under a blue sunny sky gave us little concern for potential rain although once we were well on our way to Mtahleb one could see flashes of lightning, followed by the rumble of thunder. Shortly after we were hit by a hailstorm which apart from covering us with small white hailstones led to a sharp drop in temperature, making the horses feel uneasy.

Gentle encouragement whilst keeping a firm contact always helps and it was quite satisfying to see Storm calm down and continue the trek following my commands - after all I am still learning to ride and lack experience.

By the time we got back to the stables all of us were cold and wet, but I am sure I could see in Storm's eye a small glint of satisfaction - we weathered the storm and came back home safe and sound.

Now really this has nothing to do with the song performed by The Doors, except perhaps the thunder and rain sound effects and Ray Manzarek's Fender Rhodes electric piano playing which emulated the sound of rain.

Still, this weather this morning inspired me to write this piece.

Things I want to do before my time has come!

2007-11-11T16:55:00.000+01:00

The following is a list I created some years back, listing the things I want to do before I die. The list is not in order of priority and the ones in bold are the ones that I have achieved. The ones in Italics are in progress :)

(1) Learn to ride and buy a motorbike
(2) Climb a mountain
(3) Learn rock climbing
(4) Go on Route 66 on a bike
(5) Travel to all the continents
(6) Go on a safari in the Serengeti
(7) Find the love of my life
(8) See Robbie Williams in Concert
(9) Spend Christmas, in a mountain chalet, complete with log fire and snow outside
(10) Learn how to ride a horse, and go on a horseback trek
(11) Abseil from a helicopter
(12) Take a tram ride in San Francisco
(13) Walk the Great Wall of China (if not all part of it)
(14) SCUBA dive in the Red Sea or Great Barrier Reef
(15) Go ice climbing
(16) Go on a hot air balloon ride
(17) Experience the white nights
(18) Do the Macchu Pichu trail in Peru
(19) Go white water rafting
(20) Visit New Orleans and get tipsy in Bourbon Street
(21) Learn how to ski
(22) Get involved in a charity or charitable organisation
(23) Create your website or blog
(24) Visit the Golan Heights and the Holy Land
(25) Swim with Dolphins
(26) Do Lifecycle Challenge (a gruelling bike ride, usually going through unfamiliar territory, mega steep hills and unfriendly places)
(27) Go dog sledding in Lapland

Mount Snowdon

2007-11-04T19:31:00.000+01:00

Climbing up Mount Snowdon, 5th August 1997

Standing at 3560 feet, Mount Snowdon or Yr Wyddfa as it is known in Welsh, rates amongst the most beautiful mountains in the world. Whichever direction you approach it from the size and grandeur impresses. Its starfish shape radiates six magnificent ridges each with their own special and individual characters. The deep laciated valleys range from the easily accessible to hanging valleys only reached by complicated scrambling.

Way back in 1997, after completing the four day expedition required to achieve the Gold Award within the President's Award (known as the Duke of Edinburgh Award in the UK), my friends and I decided to climb Mount Snowdon, which is the highest peak in Wales.

Getting to the summit could have been an easy task by taking the Snowdon Mountain Railway but hey, we were still enthusiastic after our expedition, so going up to the highest peak in Wales was not going to be achieved by sitting on a train!

Climbing up via the Pyg Track,a popular path along the lower slopes of Crib Goch we zig zagged up to the smaller lake Glaslyn proceeding to the col between Snowdon and Garnedd Ugain and thence to the summit of Snowdon. Unfortunately the weather was not in our favour and the view from the summit was non-existent due to the fog.

Mount Snowdown's summit was the first summit I ever attempted - although not a very high mountain, its not easy and reaching the summit requires stamina and a level of fitness just the same.

The sense of achievement that I felt on the summit was enough to instill a desire in me to conquer more mountains!

Flying over the desert

2007-11-04T18:58:00.000+01:00

It's 3am and I am eagerly waiting for my driver to pick me up from my hotel in Dubai to take me on a hot air balloon ride. It takes us about an hour to get to the departure zone, out in the outskirts of Dubai.

After a thorough briefing by the pilot, we are placed in the Balloon's basket - the excitement is building up - There's a family from Turkey with two unruly children, who's excitement is expressed with irritating behaviour, there was the french businessman although taking a break from the corporate world still carried his laptop with him, a couple from the Ukraine on their honeymoon - very much in love and quite oblivious to the beautiful surroundings that were just becoming visible at the first hint of light. A group of four Japanese friends, at ease with all the technology available to them - mobile phones, digital cameras....the works. An older couple - enjoying the free time that retirement gives you - clearly still enjoying each other's company after so many years together.

Just before take off the pilot informs us that the trip will take about an hour and as advertised in the brochure, we will be able to see sunrise over the desert - in fact within minutes the sun starts to show its orange colour over the horizon.

As we increase our altitude the light from the sun starts to give enough light for us to enjoy the landscape - arid hills and vast plains occasionally one can see camels travelling to some unknown destination. A lonely shrub, giving no shelter from the sun's rays which are slowly heating up the atmosphere, is visible from above.

The stillness in the air gives a sense of peace, only the occasional sound of the fire heating up the balloon giving it the fuel to rise over hills, disturbs one's thoughts. The smooth ride gives one the feeling of being in flight just like a bird.

An hour flies by and its time for us to land - another dry patch of land in the desert...... its back to reality

Wise Words

2007-10-29T08:39:00.000+01:00

Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets.......
So love the people who treat you right,forget about the ones who don't........
Believe that everything happens for a reason......
If you get a chance take it.........
If it changes your life,then let it...
Nobody said it would be easy...
They just promised it would be WORTH IT........

Ready for take-off

2007-10-28T18:14:00.000+01:00

The adrenaline is pumping, the heartbeat is going faster and faster as I prepare myself for my third paraglide. Although it's not the first time I am preparing myself for a jump, the feeling is always the same.

Once I am kitted out and securely tied to my instructor, we run towards the edge of the cliff. As I run towards the edge I start shouting "Geronimo" much to the amusement of the instructor......but I don't care it feels good!

Smiling Ladies

2007-10-28T18:06:00.000+01:00

Photo courtesy of Gino Galea

Saturday, 21st October - Royal Malta Yacht Club Manoel Island

I love this photo which was taken during the start of the 2007 Rolex Middle Sea Race. All of us - Sue, Adele and myself were very relaxed and it shows. Well done Gino!

Rolex Middle Sea Race 2007

2007-10-28T17:34:00.000+01:00

Memorable Quotes

2007-10-28T10:12:00.000+01:00

“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

I don't know the name of the author of this quote, but I felt compelled to include it in my blog as I think it is so true.

We (myself included) do so tend to forget to turn on the light at times, but we must always remember that we make our own happiness - sitting around for the light to switch on its own does not happen unfortunately.

Turning on that light can be quite an effort at times but in the end its generally well worth it!

Reaching for the sky

2007-10-21T10:52:00.000+02:00

Scenes from the Bedouin tent.....Episode 3

2007-10-17T17:53:00.001+02:00

All photos courtesy of Domenic Aquilina

Scenes from the Bedouin tent....Episode 2

2007-10-17T17:32:00.000+02:00

All photos courtesy of Domenic Aquilina

Ivan needs no introduction so I ain't givin any! Was great you guys could make it!

Bodyguards......hmmmmmmmm

Corinne and Ondre......friends from Kilimanjaro Challenge 3 and now neighbours!

Vodafone meets Kilimanjaro Challenge :)

Scenes from the Bedouin tent

2007-10-17T08:36:00.000+02:00

All photos courtesy of Domenic Aquilina

Mum and I......Mum partying out late and thoroughly enjoying herself....now that's where I get it from :)

Rosie, Helga & Charmaine......very important friends:)

Vodafone meets Go Mobile......Life is Now!!!

I think this tent was much more comfortable than the ones we had on Kili guys! (L to R - Steffi, Sweety (sprawled across), Adele, JP, myself and Alec)

A bear hug from Hilary :)

Friends from Vodafone (L to R - Tania, Chris, Malcolm, Kurt, Lorraine (Kurt's better half :) ) and myself

NECC meets Euro Changeover project leader... (L to R - Daniela (NECC), Michael (Euro Project Leader) and me!

More friends from Vodafone - well not all - extreme Left - Yolande, extreme right Antoine, guy next to me Anton - no connection with Vodafone.....except for his SIM :)

Adele and I......my buddy on Kili.....but didn't stop there!

Welcome to the Bedouin Tent

2007-10-17T08:31:00.000+02:00

Wednesday 10th October........ My 35th birthday and I wanted to celebrate in style :) so with the help of Anton Borg Olivier, Nat Spiteri and Claude Muscat Doublesin a bedouin tent in Tigullio was created.......

Photo courtesy of Domenic Aquilina

Memorable Quotes

2007-10-08T19:29:00.001+02:00

"A smile is the light in the window of your face that tells people you're at home"

Author unknown

Memorable Quotes

2007-10-08T19:24:00.001+02:00

“Love is something you work at. It doesn't come easily. There are going to be bad days. You are going to have to work at loving someone when they are being an idiot."

Kelly Clarkson

Let's set the record straight

2007-10-06T12:10:00.000+02:00

A year ago today a group of intrepid Maltese trekkers, forming part of the Kilimanjaro Challenge 3 left Malta for Sicily to climb Mount Etna (the world's most active volcano, standing at about 10,910 ft (3,326m)) as part of their intense training programme designed to prepared them for the gruelling climb on Mount Kilimanjaro - the roof of Africa in December 2006.

The team started their training on Saturday 7th October, trekking up Etna from the Nicolosi side, ending up at the restaurant found at the last cable car stop. The plan for the next day was to resume the climb from there up till the summit.

Sunday 8th October .......the adventure began around 9am when the team set off towards the summit. The weather was cloudy, the permeating smell of sulphur hit combined with an unaccustomed altitude had an effect on the some of the team members, but a good slow steady pace saw the team reach the first rifugio in good time for a healthy lunch of nutritious snacks and warm drinks.

An hour or so later the team set off on the last leg of the upward journey, that of reaching the summit of Mount Etna. The weather by then was slowly deteriorating with low cloud and fog increasing slowly. Although initially visibility was acceptable about two hours later and a few metres below the summit the team decided to head down due to the increasingly deteriorating weather conditions.

Within minutes of starting our descent we were engulfed in a thick fog, making it impossible to see a few metres ahead of us. But then that is nature, it is unpredictable and a force not to be underestimated. We slowly started descending to lower altitudes and only decided to ask for help because it was the sensible thing to do. It was not a case of panic, despair or danger as many people thought or assumed.

Unfortunately people think that Mount Etna is a small area - possibly this perception is due to the amount of day tourists that go to Mount Etna by coach from Catania, see the summit from a couple of thousand metres below and therefore do not realise that with an area of 1,190 km²(460 square miles) its is actually larger than Malta.

The events that followed were eventually blown out of proportion by the media with stories describing 'real' facts such as us burning our clothes and passports to be warm etc etc. As if we would have done that - our clothes first of all were clothes that we bought for Kilimanjaro - apart from being expensive, they were doing their job that of keeping us warm. We were well equipped to sleep on the mountain if the necessity arose!

By 11pm the adventure came to an end with members of the Corpo Guardia Forestale Gran Parco dell' Etna guiding us down to the entrance of the park. We had been walking for over twelve hours, which made us look an even sorrier lot than we actually were!

Our mobile phones did not stop ringing, since our families got to hear the "Breaking News" around 8pm. The next day wasn't different either, with members of the press contacting us for a comment and wanting to know the whole story - whether some of them wanted to know the truth is a different story!

Landing back in Malta later on in the evening, we were greeted at the airport by members of the press, TV, Radio, print media all jostling to get a comment out of us. Some called it a publicity stunt, some called us crazy, some just laughed.

But did this adventure put us off our Challenge? No, we were even more determined to succeed. Was this adventure a publicity stunt? No, definitely not! Did this adventure help our cause? possibly, many people hadn't heard of the Kilimanjaro Challenge 3 before this event, did this adventure give us an ego boost? Not at all! - one year down the line I still get teased about it, but its fine, I can take a joke!

Copyright on photos on this post belongs to Ian Cremona.

Thanks Ian, it was great trekking with you in Sicily and Tanzania!!!

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (12)

2007-09-29T16:25:00.000+02:00

Clearing up some of my stuff last week I came across this photo, which was taken almost 10 years ago. These bunch of friends were my team mates from the St. John Rescue Corps of which I was a member of for quite a few years.

During my 25th birthday party, someone 'stole' my camera and took this picture, which came out reall well.

Some of the people in this picture I still am in contact with - Sharon, Louise, Pauline, others I see once in a blue moon, others have lost touch completely.

If any of you guys out there see this pic, please drop a line, would be nice to hear from you!

Malta Airshow - Sunday 23rd September 2007

2007-09-25T19:43:00.000+02:00

The trouble with me.......feedback :)

2007-09-25T19:39:00.000+02:00

The amount of feedback received on my post The trouble with me was quite impressive!

No I am not going to publish all the comments received, whether via this blog or through other channels.

In that posting I was referring to a particular person, not me nor any of those people who emailed or texted me about this blog.....so don't worry guys :)

Keep those messages coming, its nice to hear from you and receive your feedback

Wake up and smell the coffee

2007-09-19T18:43:00.000+02:00

What a lovely smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee is....whether its the first thing you smell in the morning or during the day its always a lovely smell.

This morning a very good friend of mine sent me this quote which in a nutshell is all about being positive even when we feel like throwing the towel!

Thanks Chris......

The trouble with me

2007-09-18T18:57:00.000+02:00

On my way to a meeting this afternoon, I switched on my iPod and the first song I heard was Robbie Williams' song The Trouble with Me, the words I'm a basket case don't refer to me, just in case you were wondering but to someone else :)

You see the trouble with me
I'm a basket case
I don't think I can love, love, love

You see the trouble with you
Is your in love with me
What a strange thing to do
What a brave place to be

So we dive
On sunset strip
Our hearts so deep
I drown in it
And as it breaks
I swim through cracks
And leave with words
I can't take back

You see the trouble with me
Monkey see monkey do
There's no u in tomorrow
A better offer came through
You see the trouble with you
There's no trouble with you
So when you say that you love me
That stops me loving you

So she stays
On sunset strip
Our hearts so full
I drown in it
She's waiting for
My words to break
The one true love
I couldn't make

So she walks
That golden mile
Men will try
And catch her eye
We both know
What could have been
On sunset strip
Our broken dream

Faces of Tanzania

2007-09-16T12:55:00.000+02:00

Copyright Ondre Camilleri Gaglione

This collage was compiled by my friend and fellow Kilimanjaro Challenger, Ondre Camilleri Gaglione.

Thanks Ondre for allowing me to place it on my blog!

The meaning of music

2007-09-16T12:15:00.000+02:00

Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.

Victor Hugo

Music is a language enabling the expression of thoughts or simple story telling but sometimes its not just about the melody or the lyrics.......

A song can bring a smile to my face.............
A song can bring tears to my eyes............
A song can give me the motivation to improve..........

Be it or mediocre or of high calibre, a song triggers off memories of specific instances, particular people or places.

Good memories, sad memories, happy memories or memories of a particular time and place.

FAVOURITE SONGS - Search for the Hero

2007-09-16T12:09:00.001+02:00

Sometimes the river flows but nothing breathes.
A train arrives but never leaves.
It's a shame.
Oh life like love that walks out of the door.
Of being rich or being poor.
Such a shame.
But it's then, then that faith arrives.
To make you feel at least alive.
And that's why you should keep on aiming high.
Just seek yourself and you will shine
You've got to search for the hero inside yourself.
Search for the secrets you hide.
Search for the hero inside yourself.
Until you find the key to your life.
In this life long and hard though it may seem
Live it as you'd live a dream.
Aim so high.
Just keep the flame of truth burning bright.
The missing treasure you must find.
Because you and only you alone.
Can build a bridge across the stream.
Weave your spell in life's rich tapestry.
Your passport to a feel supreme.

FAVOURITE SONGS - Mad World

2007-09-10T19:19:00.000+02:00

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very
Mad World
Mad world

FAVOURITE SONGS - Overcome

2007-09-08T19:30:00.000+02:00

even now the world is bleedin' but feelin' just fine all numb
in our castle where we're always free to choose never free enough
to find i wish somethin' would break cuz we're runnin' out of time

and i am overcome i am overcome holy water in my lungs i am overcome

these women in the street pullin' out their hair my master's
in the yard givin' light to the unaware this plastic little place
is just a step amongst the stairs

and i am overcome i am overcome baby holy water in my lungs i am overcome

so drive me out out to that open field turn the ignition off
and spin around your help is here but i'm parked in this open space
blockin' the gates of love

i am overcome i am overcome holy water in my lungs i am overcomed

beautiful drowning this beautiful drowning this holy water
this holy water is in my lungs

and i am overcome i am overcome i am overcome i am overcome

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (11)

2007-09-03T19:48:00.000+02:00

The picture above shows me going down a crevasse on Mount Rainier. This was part of the training we underwent during the weeklong expedition seminar.

Training involved abseiling into a deep crevasse and learning how to rescue a casualty

Of Mountains and Adventure

2007-09-03T19:29:00.000+02:00

An article in the September edition of National Geographic Adventure magazine described how Mount Everest has become a 'mess' describing Everest Base Camp as the Ringling Brothers' circus due to the amount of tents being pitched up.

In his article A New Everest Mess, David Roberts asks the question: Should world's strongrest climbers should be forced to risk it all for a flagging few?

Taking a professional climber's perspective, keeping in mind that climbing Mount Everest isn't just about glory but also about sponsorships and business deals, one would say No! - why should I forgo glory and money to save some climber who is not prepared for such a challenge?

Taking an amateur climber and adventurous person's perspective I would wholeheartedly disagree - the mountains were created there for everyone and those willing to take a risk should be allowed to do so.

But then again the question is raised why should someone who is not fully prepared for such a challenge potentially risk other people's lives should a rescue/evacuation be necessary? The answer could be that even the best climbers have suffered injuries or altitude sickness - there is no guarantee towards the prevention of altitude sickness - it can hit anyone!

So although climbers attempting Everest should be fully aware of the dangers and do their utmost to prepare themselves for it there should not be any discrimination as to who should climb the highest mountain in the world.

The article probably hit home more than others due to the fact that a rescue effort was lead by Casey Grom, who guided me on Mount Rainier, Washington, three years ago. Casey was the lead guide in our expedition seminar and apart from inspiring confidence and awe showed extreme professionalism throughout the week we spent on the mountain.

Its an honour for me to say that I met him!

To read the full article visit http://www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/everest/everest-2007.html

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (10)

2007-09-02T22:27:00.001+02:00

Irente View Point, Lushoto, Tanzania - January 2007

A drop of almost 1,000metres lies below me.....definitely not for the faint hearted!

Snakes & Ladders

2007-09-02T21:51:00.000+02:00

:) No, I am not referring to the popular board game but to Via Ferrata! - which literally translates into the Iron Route.

Routes found on mountains and rock faces are totally secured by hand rails, ladders, cables or life lines enabling people, with little or no climbing experience, to cross from one side of a mountain to another.

The picture below was taken in France, in August 2006 where I fulfilled my dream of experiencing a Via Ferrata. The route consisted mainly of ladders up the rock face but we also had to cross 'valleys', with drops of over 250 metres, by means of Tibetan Bridges and Aerial Ropeways.

Check-In

2007-09-02T19:15:00.000+02:00

What on earth, you might be asking yourself, is this picture doing on my blog???

This picture was taken last Saturday at the port of Bari, where I attended an MTV Concert. Bari is the major seaport linking Italy to Albania, and hence this sign.

Three years ago I spent three months in Albania, working with Vodafone Albania on a marketing project there. Although a lot of people might think I am crazy, I do have some fond memories of that place and that sign spurred good memories, prompting me to take the picture.

Some photo subjects may seem insignificant or senseless to the reader out there.....to others it means alot

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (9)

2007-08-29T16:26:00.000+02:00

Yep that's me hanging onto a wooden, flimsy flagpole, a couple of metres above snow level on the Jungfrau - Switzerland (August 2007)

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (8)

2007-08-29T16:20:00.001+02:00

My friend Carolyn and I at the Austrian/Liechtenstein Border....

That day was a case of breakfast in Austria, lunch in Liechtenstein and dinner in Switzerland :)

.....oh to be a Globtrotter all the time :)

Tackling the Ropes Course

2007-08-29T14:45:00.000+02:00

A High Ropes course involves using harnesses, helmets, cables, ropes and wooden beams strung 20 to 50 feet high among trees or poles, Each moment is rich with discoveries, whether you’re climbing, simply encouraging others or on belay.

The high ropes elements are up in the trees so the perceived risk is high, but actual risk is low. Participants walk across cable bridges, negotiate giant ladders or ride zip lines through the trees as they overcome personal fears and develop new self confidence.

Yep......I want to do this again

Captured!

2007-08-29T14:39:00.000+02:00

Don't know what the joke was, don't know if I was teasing anyone but this picture, taken by my friend John, during the Ability Challenge, captures a good moment that I really want to share!

These mist covered mountains.......

2007-08-23T21:20:00.000+02:00

Touchdown

2007-08-21T23:55:00.000+02:00

Photo taken in August 2007, Zillertal Alps, Mayrhofen

Paragliding was part of the Ability Challenge - this was my third jump - first being in the Dolomites (December 1999) and second being in France (August 2006)

Another Memorable Quote

2007-08-06T21:20:00.000+02:00

"That which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger"

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Budapest 1907 or 2007?

2007-07-17T07:48:00.000+02:00

I prefer the effect of black and white photograph since there less distraction, there is more emphasis on light and more simplicity in terms of imagery.

Black & white photography evokes a feeling of the past in a more intense manner.

Copyright Maria Vella-Galea, July 2007

A Memorable Quote

2007-07-06T19:59:00.000+02:00

"when one door closes another opens,
but we often look so long regretfully on the closed door
that we do not see the ones which open for us"

- Alexander Graham Bell

Bryan Adams Anthology Tour

2007-07-03T20:57:00.000+02:00

Oh - once in your life you find someone
Who will turn your world around
Bring you up when you're feelin' down
Ya-nothin' could change what you mean to me
Oh there's lots that I could say
But just hold me now
Cause our love will light the way

No specific message is to be found with the above excerpt, except that this song brings happy memories, which were relived during Bryan Adams' concert in Malta, last week (28th June 2007)

My friend Marco & I just before the start of the concert :)

What a far cry from the disappointing atmosphere created by Sting in the same place in the previous year - Bryan Adams managed to create a fantastic vibe, great song selection and fantastic interaction with the audience!

Ana Mandara

2007-07-03T20:35:00.000+02:00

The words translate into Beautiful Refuge, specifically one described in a 700 year old Vietnamese story as the tropical sanctuary enjoyed by a courageous warrior and a princess whose love for each other caused them to be shunned by their family and peers. Of great solace to them was the culinary bounty of the land and sea that was to be found in Ana Mandara……

In the Ana Mandara legend the ill fated lovers travel in secret in the lush coast of South Vietnam and find an abundance of sea food, bamboo and sweet mangoes to feast on.

It’s no wonder that Miami Vice actor Don Johnson opted for the name Ana Mandara when opening a Vietnamese restaurant in San Francisco – I went to this restaurant in 2002 during my visit to San Francisco and the experience was just fantastic.

So much so that I named my flat in Xemxija Ana Mandara – mainly because it provides me with solace and comfort by just looking at the views of Wardija hills and Simar Nature Reserve.

…..and people haven’t complained about my culinary skills either :)

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (7)

2007-06-15T15:50:00.000+02:00

Copyright Maria Vella-Galea, May 2004

This picture was taken during a weekend break I enjoyed in Greece, when I was on my 3 month assignment in Albania. Although Athens was never top on my list of places to visit (I've had enough of cities) I thoroughly enjoyed my weekend there and look forward to see more of Greece in the future

Vodafone Employee Hero - Nominee & Runner Up

2007-05-29T23:22:00.000+02:00

Each year Vodafone employees nominate fellow colleagues for the Vodafone Employee Hero Award. This award is given to employees who embrace either one of the Passions that are in essence the guiding principles at Vodafone.

Passion for Customers
Passion for Results
Passion for our People
Passion for the World Around Us

During today's award presentation I was very flattered and proud to realise that my fellow colleague Marcel nominated me, for my participation in the Kilimanjaro Challenge, in the category Passion for the World Around Us.

This category basically identifies employees who are passionate about the world around them, who help those around them to have fuller lives - both through the services that Vodafone provides as well as through the impact we have on the world around us.

Although I am proud of making it to the summit of Kilimanjaro, I am sure that other colleagues must have had other more notable achievements, so even simply being nominated was very flattering......let alone being one of the runner ups!

Adrenaline Rush

2007-05-27T11:37:00.000+02:00

Mosta Bridge - April 2005

I was once described by a friend of mine as an adrenaline junkie - a person addicted to excitement, to the adrenaline rush, to the danger inevitably and invariably involved..........

.......yes I think he was right.......

Postings on my Blog

2007-05-26T11:56:00.000+02:00

Someone this week pointed out that I was working backwards in terms of blog content - well its true but that is only till I update it with topics, that relate to the past, that I want to share with you.

A case in point is my piece on Mount Rainier - that happened almost two years ago, so for the time being I will leave it where it is, then after a couple of weeks I will archive it in its proper place - that will give time to my friends who regularly visit my blog time to read it properly.

I want to say thank you to all those friends who took the time to visit my blog and send me comments - please keep on sending them - they mean a lot to me!

Booboo (???? - 2007)

2007-05-18T23:18:00.000+02:00

Booboo was already a fully grown cat when he turned up on our doorstep one spring afternoon, nine years ago.

Looking up at us with large melting eyes, it would have taken the coldest of hearts to shoo him away. From the day he joined our family, he had become my firm favourite (we have four cats left now) and in those rare moments whenever I would lie on the sofa to watch TV, especially in winter, he would jump up and cuddle up or sprawl himself on my tummy.

The past years hadn’t been so kind to Booboo. About four years ago he got badly hit by a car, fortunately he survived but he damaged his back which meant that his tail was completely dead – it just hung limp and had no feeling in it. This lead to some hilarious moments, especially when Taz (the German shepherd I had some years ago) decided to grab him from it. There were some worrying moments too, like when he jumped next to the cooker and nearly burnt it off!

Recently, Booboo had a bit of an eating problem making him look very skinny and one could actually count the bones on his ribcage. However, his eyes would light up every time he smelt chicken – whether it was cooked or raw!

This morning, before I left for work, he was lying down in a wicker basket, looking very weak but his eyes still showed an eager response when I called out his name.

Now Booboo is no more….. He died peacefully in our garden early in the afternoon. He will always be remembered and sorely missed...

FAVOURITE PICTURE SERIES (6)

2007-05-10T23:26:00.000+02:00

I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse…..Michael Corleone, The Godfather, 1972

2007-05-10T19:36:00.000+02:00

Bar Vitelli, Savoca (ME), Italy

I must say that 1972 was a great year!. It was the year when the classic movie The Godfather hit the cinemas (no pun intended here) and it was the year when I was born!

You will be wondering why I chose a quote from The Godfather to start off my latest writing. Well the reason is simple. The Godfather is one of my favourite movies and my fascination increased some years ago when I visited the Niebaum-Coppola Winery (recently renamed to Rubicon Estate, owned by Francis Ford Coppola – for those of you who don’t know, he was the director of The Godfather Trilogy) in Napa Valley, California and had the opportunity to see, on display, the Oscar that Francis Ford Coppola won for The Godfather.

In 2007, I discovered that some of the scenes in The Godfather were filmed in neighbouring Sicily, specifically in the town of Savoca. Forming part of Messina, Savoca lies 300 metres above sea level, between Taormina and Messina. A sleepy town with approximately 1,600 inhabitants, it is famous for being chosen as a location for the wedding scene in The Godfather. This was because the town of Corleone was too developed even in the early 1970's, and Savoca was used for shooting some of the scenes.

My recent visit to Taormina therefore could not be complete without a visit to this enchanting village, which is only approximately 30 minutes away by car from Taormina. Arriving in Savoca I made a beeline towards Bar Vitelli which was used to film Michael Corleone’s wedding to Apollonia. The Bar has been run for the past 44 years by the Signora Maria, a feisty 84 year old Sicilian from Palermo. A weather beaten face and old fashioned clothes belie a lively and intelligent woman, full of interesting anecdotes especially those relating to when Francis Ford Coppola and his crew were filming.

Whether or not a Godfather fan, a visit to this Bar is a must! Unfortunately the building is quite dilapidated, and requires some attention however it still retains its character, and whilst sitting down to enjoy one of the best home made lemon granitas in the area, one can soak in the fantastic views of the area.

A dash of Zibibbo, a liqueur made in Palermo, makes the granita taste even better!