When I heard that we were to call at Malta I knew that there was just one place that I had to try to visit – the grave of Detective Sergeant Harry Battley who was killed in an air crash off Lampedusa in 1945. I have been researching Harry for years so to come to Malta and not find him would be so sad. The small cemetery was at Mtarfa but where was Mtarfa and would it be possible for me to find my way there and back to the ship in the few hours that we were to be in port at Valletta? The easy option would be to hire a taxi for the day but that always proves highly expensive – and why take the easy option when there are probably more adventurous means !!
As always I was one of the first down the gangplank and headed off for the 20 minute UPhill climb into town. I noticed the buildings were ancient and beautiful. Pinkish, yellowish blocks towered up four or five stories above my head and all were dotted with balconies of various design and colour. The streets were narrow and almost deserted as the city had not yet awoken. I spotted a small grating at street level out of which poked the cheeky the faces of several kittens who had taken up residence in the vaults of the church.
After several false turns I managed to find the Tourist Information Office and enquired about the cemetery at Mtarfa. Oh yes, there was a British Cemetery there but none of the tourist maps showed where exactly it was and none of the staff were able to point out its location on the map. I was told that I could catch the No. 51 bus to Mtarfa and that the driver would be able to point out the cemetery when I got there. For someone who always plans her journeys to the nth. degree this was not very reassuring!! So there I was in a strange country heading for the bus station to get on a bus that would take me to a small village miles from the coast. I must have been mad but when a grave calls there is nothing for it but to go ! I found that I needed to buy a one day travel pass for the princely sum of 2.60 Euros from the ticket office. Then there was a 25 minute wait for the No 51 which I noticed went to Mtarfa via the ancient cities of Mdina and Rabat. When the bus arrived I was almost carried on amidst the hustling, bustling locals. The ladies were in fine voice and shouted and laughed about everything around them. Off we set in the rush hour traffic heading out of town in a westerly direction. I followed our course as best I could on a very basic tourist map and after 40 minutes found we were entering Rabat. The next village - the last on the route - was Mtarfa. I enquired of the bus driver the way to the British cemetery but he had no idea ! Great – now here I was in the interior of the country with no idea which direction to make for.
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