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Today I discovered that the capital of Malta, Valletta, has a congestion charging scheme. I learned the hard way - I received a bill for having driven there in November. It wasn't a terribly hard way though - I owe them a total of 0.83 euros - about 60 pence I think. So it compares favorably to the London one.
I tried calling them to pay over the phone but they wanted this princely sum by cheque. I think that the cheque processing cost would be higher than the value of the cheque itself, but I suppose the cost of their time to do it on the phone would also have been higher.
They have the facility to pay online, but to use it you have to download, print out, fill in and send off a form requesting it. You can't sign up online. So I did that for future payments. They also have a direct debit scheme so I downloaded, printed out and filled in a form for this too. 'Why not send them all off at the same time?', I thought.
So all in all I spent nearly an hour paying the 83 cents.
This morning marked the glorious success of my new diet. I've been on a 'No Hunger' diet of my own invention. It's based on the theory that if you put yourself through a lot of hunger then your body will react by thinking it needs to store more fat for the future, and so you'll end up fatter than you started. They say that dieting makes you fat. Plus I hate being hungry. Instead I just eat some very healthy food that I've cooked myself when I'm hungry.
Plus I've stopped using the microwave (except as a kitchen clock). A study commissioned by the UK government on the obesity epidemic concluded that there was no significant increase in calories consumed that could explain the epidemic and the only lifestyle factor that correlated with the rise in people's weight was the use of microwave ovens. They didn't offer much of an explanation as to why microwaves might cause weight gain and it could be a coincidence, but why chance it, I say? I haven't missed using it.
I made a resolution to not eat out without Mame until my weight dropped to under 10 stone (I was 10 stone 3.5). After 6 weeks of my own cooking and without any hunger, this morning I was 9 st 13.5. I'm so happy! I'll probably put most of it on again while Mame is here this weekend. But it's not a very onerous diet at all so I'll just start again. The only real loser is the all-you-can-eat restaurant down the road which was probably the cause of the problem in the first place.
Now I just need to write a book about the diet and make millions.
Even though Malta is one of the most densely populated countries in Europe, there are nevertheless places you can walk that take you into the countryside and you can feel as though you are far from the madding crowd. One such place is a walk down a steep gorge into the valley that time forgot where a shepherd tends his flock of sheep and goats and there is a very pretty chapel called The Church of St Paul the Hermit built in an enclave on the side of the cliff.
The church displays information about its history. According to legend, there was once a saintly man who was a hermit and lived in the enclave. However, rather than keep himself to himself as you might imagine a good hermit should, he took to berating the local shepherds for their 'licentious' lifestyles. I had to look that one up in my mobile phone's dictionary. To save any readers who are as ignorant as me from doing the same, it means immoral, lewd and lascivious. I'm not quite sure how some shepherds living in the middle of nowhere would have had the opportunity for such a lifestyle, regardless of their desire. Perhaps their sheep bore the brunt of it. Anyway, one day after a particularly sharp rebuke from the hermit, the shepherds set upon him, threw stones at him and then chased him to the shore. At this point, according to the story, the hermit hopped onto his cloak and floated to Gozo where he lived happily ever after. This floating cloak routine so impressed the shepherds that they repented their wickedness (possibly to the great relief of their flock) and built the church in his honour.
I went for a walk around the local bay today and was surprised to see sunbathers on the beach. They were mostly older people - I think that older people don't feel the cold so much - at least my granny didn't. I think it's a bit too cold to be sunbathing really, but it's not far off. And it's ideal conditions for walking. Once I was warmed up a t-shirt was sufficient. But it makes me a bit frightened about how I'm going to cope in the heat of the summer when it's this warm in January. Still, I have air conditioning, thank goodness.
I've been reading a book lately called 'On Food and Cooking' by Harold McGee. It explains the chemistry, in layman's terms fortunately, that underlies cooking. It debunks some received wisdom about cooking techniques, and explains why others are correct. It is highly acclaimed. I first heard about it in The Economist's Intelligent Life magazine, and then again on Hestor Blumenthal's cooking program 'Kitchen Chemistry'. I'm hoping that my cooking will improve if I understand a bit more about the science behind it.
He quotes a joke from a recipe book. They say that the old jokes are the best; well this ought to be really funny as it is from 1475 and so makes the one about the chicken crossing the road look positively new. It made me giggle anyway. It appeared in 'De honesta voluptate et valetudine' by Platina:
Eggs on a Spit
Pierce eggs lengthwise with a well-heated spit and parch them over the fire as if they were meat. They should be eaten hot. This is a stupid invention and unsuitable and a cook's joke.
As I rely on having broadband Internet to do my job, I had two suppliers: cable as the main supplier and ADSL as a back-up in case cable went down. But the ADSL one didn't work especially well and in the first 3 months of being here cable worked faultlessly. So I decided not to renew the ADSL subscription. In the unlikely event of cable going down, I reasoned, I could always go to a nearby hotel and use the wifi there. But I didn't go to the trouble of actually checking whether a local hotel had such a service.
The very next day after my ADSL subscription expired, cable went down. And at a particularly critical point when I was supposed to prepare a journal for time-critical input into the production system. I couldn't believe it.
I phoned Directory Enquiries and asked for the number of the Seabank Hotel (a great hotel, by the way), and the employee just recited the number straight to me, without so much as looking at a computer screen. I said to her, 'You know that number by heart?' and she said, 'Yes, and a lot of other numbers too!'. I was very impressed. This sort of thing is only possible in a country the size of Malta.
Fortunately the hotel has an excellent broadband wifi service that's available to non-residents, so all was well. I sat in the lobby with my laptop and accessed the Internet without difficulty, but I had to put up with listening to Christmas Muzak and chirping budgerigars. So I went to the hotel shop and bought some chocolate M&Ms. Before long I was on such a sugar and additives high that even listening to a dodgy rendition of 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful' accompanied by a disorganized chorus of budgies seemed quite enjoyable.
I plan to arrange another backup Internet supplier.
Malta is a very prudish country; much more so than Britain and America. It has laws that American social conservatives can only dream of: no topless sunbathing, no pornography, no lap dancers, no prostitution, no abortion, no divorce, no gay marriage. Foul language is equally unacceptable. On an episode of Blackadder on television a few days ago they bleeped out the phrase 'sod off'! They had also gone to the trouble of covering over Baldrick's mouth movements with a little brown oval as he uttered these apparently profane words lest a Maltese person who spoke English and could lip read might be put into an incurable coma of shock.
So I was quite surprised by something I saw yesterday. There were a group of youths with a banner and matching t-shirts, shouting while walking down the main street in Valletta, the capital. I asked one of them what they were protesting over and she said that they weren't protesting, but celebrating: they had graduated as pharmacists the previous day. I don't know whether the monotone text on their t-shirts can be properly described as graphic and colourful, but anyway, I'll show you the pictures. On the front they said 'Pharmacists can do it...', and on the back...
A couple of weeks back I went to an IT Exhibition at Malta's main exhibition centre. It was a really impressive event. All Malta's main technology companies were there and I found out the whereabouts of the country's computer shops.
There was a model of the planned 'Smart City', a new technology park similar to the one in Dubai, and backed by the same organization I think.
I'm not one to go ga-ga over kids, but this tiny toddler got so excited watching his sister play a bowling game on a Nintendo Wii at the exhibition that it made me laugh and I had to take this video of them.
There are many really good things about Malta, but its Retail Sector isn't one of them. The apparent reluctance to sell anything at all constantly reminds me of Monty Python's Cheese Shop sketch. I have studied the behaviour of shopkeepers and, through reverse-engineering, have compiled the following Golden Rules of Maltese Shopkeeping, to which Maltese shopkeepers adhere religiously.
1. Don't open the shop when there are likely to be customers around.
Customers are a terrible hazard - at best they make the place untidy and ask awkward questions. At worst they can deplete the stock, cause extra administrative work and increased staffing costs. The following are particularly dangerous times - don't open the shop under any circumstances during these periods:
- Sundays. This is the day when most people don't work and have nothing better to do than pester shopkeepers with their insatiable desire to spend money. Stay closed all day.
- Lunchtimes. People, in their ignorance, seem to think that lunch times are a perfect opportunity to pop out to the shops to get a few things they need. Well, shut the shop and they'll have another think coming! Start closing up at about 11:30 am and don't open again until at least 4 pm when they'll be safely back at their desks.
- Early morning. So it's the early bird that catches the worm, is it? Not if the shops are all shut it's not. Under no circumstances open up until well after 9 am, preferably nearer 10 am, and those annoying early rising 'seize the day' types who think they might do a quick bit of shopping before work won't even be able to seize their wallets.
- After work. People come out of a long day of work stressed and wanting some retail therapy. Don't give it to them. We're shopkeepers, not therapists. Make sure you start closing up at about 6 pm to 6:30 pm and they'll be forced to get themselves some proper counselling.
- Festas (the traditional festivals). Although these only happen in any one location once per year, they could be potentially disastrous. People come from all over the country (and indeed the world) wanting to have fun and spend some money. If they see an open shop they'll no doubt go into an excited frenzy and rush in. Worse still, it might cause them to discover a shop that they weren't previously aware of and become regular customers. Make sure the shop is closed well before the festivities start.
- Saturday afternoons. By midday Saturday, most people have got on top of their weekly domestic chores and are feeling like going out shopping. Close the shop before they can.
2. Make shopping as unpleasant an experience as possible.
Avoid at all costs setting up shop in areas where there is easy parking or other enticements to the area. Huge shopping malls with their free parking, public toilets, cinemas, climate controlled and traffic-free environments, public seating areas and food halls are obviously asking for trouble. We are blessed that Malta is so bereft of them. The day Malta gets even a retail park will be black indeed. Try instead to have a small shop next to congested traffic on a narrow and decrepit road with no free parking places and no nearby toilet facilities. If there's hardly any pavement space either then so much the better.
Inside the shop, make sure that it's quite cramped and dusty, that the shelving is aluminium and antiquated, and refuse to accept credit cards. The annoyance of having to pay by cash can often be enough in itself to put the customer off, or at least stop them from returning.
Don't offer assistance gladly. When a customer comes in, try to disappear into the back of the shop, or busy yourself with something and give the impression that you don't want to be disturbed.
Try to make them queue multiple times. For example, if you have a supermarket, make them queue once at the vegetable section while everything is weighed and priced, then the same for the meat section, then again at the fish section, then again at the deli counter and finally at the checkout. Another clever idea is to have the trolleys take a coin of a different currency to the normal legal tender so that they have to queue up at the customer services desk to get one. Also, consider having a separate shop selling books and magazines so that they have to queue up there as well.
3. Avoid appealing stock.
If by some fluke a customer is not at work while the shop is open, and comes into the store, there becomes a real risk that they might buy something. The first line of defence is outdated and dull stock. There are plenty of opportunities to buy British end-of-the-line stock that no longer sells well there. These are not only cheap to buy wholesale but should discourage a customer from buying anything. If the British will no longer buy a product, then why should the Maltese?
Price is also very important. Make sure that you add between 30% and 100% to the cost of the same thing in any other country. Maltese people travel abroad often enough to make it worth their while to hold off on buying in Malta and wait until they go on holiday. Don't feel guilty about subjecting foreign shopkeepers to the distress of selling all those goods to Maltese travellers. Foreign shopkeepers inexplicably actually like to sell their stock.
4. Be fluent in the last-ditch attempts to discourage customers from making a purchase.
If the nightmare scenario happens and a customer asks to buy something, all is not lost. There are some techniques you can use to entice them to go away empty handed, however keen they might seem.
- Tell them that you've got some much better stock coming in soon and advise them to come back then. It doesn't matter if it's a lie; desperate times call for desperate measures. With luck they'll go elsewhere.
- If it's a large purchase that needs a lot of administrative work such as buying a car, tell them that the person who does the paperwork isn't in at the moment and suggest they come back in a few day's time.
- Tell them that there's no hurry and suggest that they go away and think about it more. Under no circumstances offer them a discount for a quick sale. Don't put the customer under any pressure to buy right away. Never claim that the product will soon go out of stock or that a price rise is imminent.
People don't really need the things they buy. Is that MP3 player going to avert a humanitarian crisis? Hardly. Will those trendy jeans save them from hypothermia in Malta? Give me a break. Do they need to pollute the atmosphere in that car when there is a perfectly good bus service? Of course not.
As a shop keeper you must remember at all times that people just want to waste their money and your time. Society depends on you fighting against this rampant materialistic greed.
As a young school boy with no bus pass, long before the days of Oyster cards, I was forced to pay for my frequent bus rides in cash. The bus drivers had a large float of small coins to ensure that they would have enough to give change. Rather more than they needed, I suspect. At the end of the day they had to count their change as part of their reconciliation. I can see that this wouldn't have been much fun; they certainly resented it with a vengeance. To reduce the amount of small change that they ended up with, they would give out as many small coins as they possibly could. Passengers such as myself didn't appreciate being given vast amounts of copper to carry around all day and tried to avoid this and give as much of it back as possible on the next journey. Thus were the change wars.
The bus drivers' main strength was that they could refuse to let you on the bus if you paid for your fare with too many coppers. I was threatened with this a few times and got used to gauging how many small coins I could get away with.
Oh, it was a happy day that I moved to London and got a Travelcard. But in Malta the change wars still rage.
The bus drivers here have attained a level of expertise way beyond that shown in Bracknell. Their first trick is that the fares are incorrectly advertised. The sign says that the fare will be 50 cents. Naive holiday makers hand over a 50 cent piece only to discover that the fare is 25 cents. There is a 25 cent coin in Malta and the drivers have vast numbers of them in their floats, but of course they wouldn't hand one over so lightly. The give an array of 2s and 1s to the flabbergasted holiday maker. I fell for this ruse completely the first time and as a veteran change war fighter I felt well and truly thrashed in the first round. But I hadn't given up.
The next few times my lack of fluency with Maltese coinage and my uncertainty of the exact fare left me at the mercy of the bus drivers. They wouldn't state the fare clearly either and would snarl at you for hesitating. So I'd end up giving a larger coin in panic or letting the driver pick out the coins in which case I'd be giving him carte blanche to deluge me in small change. So I continued to be beaten senseless.
After a while though I felt slightly more confident. I had a 25 cent coin at the ready. Ha! I thought, I may not be getting rid of much change but at least I won't get any back. But the driver was far too quick for me. 'It's 23 cents' he said and gave me a 2 cent coin back. I staggered to my seat beaten again.
On the return journey I was determined to fight like a man. I prepared 23 cents in small change. I got on the bus and lunged forward with a metaphorical stab to the heart with my 23 cents. But the driver was still too quick for me. He parried, then swung a mace at my head saying, 'The fare is 25 cents'. 'But it was 23 on the way here', I protested, realising that I was being defeated yet again. '25' he said flatly. It was a high-risk gambit on his part - what if I'd had the extra 2 cents? In fact, I found out later, I did. But he had the psychological upper hand. I didn't really believe I could beat him and I handed over a 25 cent piece, took back the original coins and staggered, blood-soaked, to my seat.
On the next journey I put on my finest armour, sharpened my sword and made a full-frontal attack with 25 cents in minor coinage. The driver was slightly shaken but managed a partial defence. 'The fare is 23 cents' he said, and gave me back 2 cents. But he took the rest.
Yes, I had a moderate victory, but I knew I was no match for these men in the longer term. The Maltese have fighting in their blood. Over the centuries they have withstood sieges from the world's most merciless warriors. I was resigned to failure. I got off the bus and bought a car.
I am now the proud owner of a Toyota Vitz.
I'm also feeling much better, by the way.
