On holidays today, one of the features about staying at a small place in a village atmosphere is that people can take the time to know your name and talk with you about things that are not important and we the same. We are served our breakfast in a very relaxed manner which goes down a treat, nearly as well as the breakfast itself.

Crew Vella are going to meet up with Uncle Freddie who is the tour guide on steroids - he wants to show them where the family roots are I know that this is very important to him, especially also to the Don . They go to the village where his parents lived and the house of his mothers. They now have a very strong take away of Malta, sometimes it can take half a lifetime to do something for the first time and then wonder why not before. still as they say in the classics - better late than never. They now have that little extra glue to adhere the Vella family bond.

Crew Lucas pull on the string bikini and the speedos with the local beach our destination for a few hours. The water is still way cold for this little black duck but M-L goes in for a dip, a very short one. She is hell bent on browning (weathering) her exposed bits. We wander back around two o'clock and meet up with Crew Vella for lunch and a chin wag about all our activities. Decide that we need to rest up as a night out has been planned by Fred and his partner David. Nana and Pa naps all round in the "penthouse" aircon a blazing as very warm.

The older lads have arranged for all to be picked up in a mini bus as we are off to a festa in a village / small town in the middle of the island . We do not know what to expect.

As I mentioned in an earlier diatribe Malta has 365 churches and there is a reason for this, they are a very devout group with religion very much at the fore in the community. Each area has a number and generally one knock your socks off blow your mind sucker. Unlike the ABC's that we have come across so far on our wanderings these seem to have a no vacancy sign out the front of most. Our local church in the village where we are staying held their Saturday evening service, which we popped into, and was overflowing.

Each local area seem to have a patron saint to which all things revolve, ours tonight is Saint Philip in a town called Zebbug. These events are so important to the community, they run for an entire week and a lot of pride and work and money goes into them. Each area compete against each other and attempt to produce an event bigger and better than the next town. The church always remains central within the scheme of things . Each festa seems to be boisterous but the spiritual aspect is at the fore.

As we approach which was around 8.30 pm with the last tones of dusk descending we start to see colourful street decorations and festoons something not dissimilar to what we know are our towns Christmas decorations, apparently people in each individual street band together with their readies and really set the scene, again a strong thread within the community. The closer we traveled to the central area and the main festa point the more decorative the streets became. I am talking shake your head stuff, special street lights, religious statues the like we have never seen before are all along the entrance points to the festa.

Seems our invitation was not all that exclusive as the number of people that are here and they are all dressed up with somewhere to go are many. As we get out of the bus and start walking we do not know where to look as all trying to take in the colour, sounds, sights and smells all at once gives us sensory overload . The older lads are working overtime attempting to quench our thirst for knowledge on what is set up and occurring around us. One of the more important aspects (after the St.Philip proceedings) is fireworks. Now I am talking fireworks set like you can not imagine - I will see if I can paint a picture for you.

There is also great pride at stake as each community festas aim is to produce firework that is superior to the others. The one that enjoyed our presence just so happens to be the town in which the factory for the big bangs our produced! I have a great pic of the crew and some of their best work that they prepared especially for the festa. The building has walls but no roof, this way when a woops moment occurs only the workers bits that are in the near vicinity need to be picked up in small buckets rather than with a roof it takes out the lot of them.

Such a joy to be among a people that the letters O H & S are just that, letters in the alphabet and not an acronym for regulation, cost, stupidity and the simple things not able to be done any more . Anyway let's not go down that rabbit hole. More on rabbit later - the Maltase national dish. Right the way down the street there are these contraptions set up all adorned with some form of firework,
they could be wheels or cubes or any shape for that matter connected up by some type of cog and wheel system. Attached to all of these is the common denominator - gunpowder. They set up blocks of cracker type gunpowder as once lit this generates the power to turn the mechanisms which in turn create the movement of the device, smart these Maltese. It seems these guys really get off on the stuff and the more the better. I have some before pics to look at, the during is just a mass blur of brightness via a photo, via ones presence one of the most incredible sights that will sit front and centre in the minds filing cabinet.

Now I haven taken you to their church yet.

If you thought I was impressed in a warped sort of way with the structure and grandioseness of the ABC's in other visited countries then check out Malta, especially one during an occasion like this one. The Don was agog, it's 9.30 pm on satdiy nite with this place bursting at the seems all fitted out and adorned in red, all their best silverware and behind locked key trinkets front and centre, the place smells of money. All the different community clubs and business organisations send flower centre pieces that are placed throughout and St. Philip in silver looming over everyone. St.Phil even gets to go for a run through the streets tomorrow afternoon, he is carried by the strongest of men. Bloody good show I say.

We have some grub in among the throng, actually the place is like one large tin of King Oscars and then settle in to watch some of the fire works as we traditionally know them. They run from two sites so they are continuous and blast for, wait for it, easy 2.5 hours. We had a few Pieras, they are a little strange here and call the local drop Cisk along with the local soft drink brew, Kinnie, a bitter blend of orange, spice and burnt caramel. During all of this there is either a brass band marching and the crowd in front just parts or another two band stands set up with more brass bands playing. All this and not one flouro vest to be seen!

Around midnight the pyrotechnic maniacs (assume what is left of them from the firework factory) gather at one end of the street, this signals for the masses in that near vicinity to move, just a little, then they light the first of the special displays - they are very loud and visually spectacular displays. There are people nigh on under them. I would describe these events as mayhem, disorganised chaos, if it were in Australia there would be a no go zone for 500 metres. Sorry, it just would not be allowed as from what I could make out any regulation that you can think of would be broken. Still it all works here. Everyone yells and screams and claps and then just jam up a little tighter and more along to the next display and so on and so forth. Another amazing experience, back at the ranch for sleeps after 2.00 am. Great night.