Sleep with the curtains open, though we haven't yet (knock on wood) missed a flight, and this one isn't until 11:30. Can't tell within half an hour when the bus comes, but it's the Vlachos one going the opposite way. Takes the full half hour but arrives, with Elena, who used to be receptionist at the Eleonora aboard. She's on her way to wire money to her daughter who is starting work today as a teacher in Bucharest (tried working in Cyprus but fell victim to the old problem of being paid very little and having trouble collecting it).
Check in with Emirates. Originally booked on Airbus but switched to 777, much like the Malaysian Air one that has just vanished into thin air. Our current problem is all too solid, though. J's suitcase is an unprecedented (for us) 24.5 k. I have my mouth open to suggest we repack - not easy as the chief problem is heavy bottles that can't be moved to the carry-ons - when J gives me a look and my mouth closes. And the woman at the desk tags his suitcase without comment. Which is all the more interesting because a robed Franciscan at the next counter is being asked questions about liquids, and even powders, and asked to weigh his carry-on as well as his suitcase.
Plane not full, lunch light but decent. Wine pretty fair too. Entertainment system the most sophisticated we've seen - takes us half the flight to figure it out. Just under three hours until we land in Malta. One week bus passes €6.50, which is hard to argue with. Pretty comprehensive network of buses, though they're now a modern Arriva fleet and not the motley collection of individually decorated 1930's British Leyland buses we remember from pre-EU days. But more efficient, I suggest to the young man who sells us the tickets. He rolls his eyes. And indeed the express bus takes us over an hour to reach St Julian, which can't be much more than five or six miles - the island is only 17 miles long.
Identifying our hotel isn't easy. There's a streetside map, but it's primarily an advertising venture, not that helpful for detail. I spot a florist shop and think that florists deliver everywhere, and indeed the florist, using his smart phone, and a customer, looking at the smart phone photo, get us pretty close. Then a passing young man with a painter's bucket suggests that the keys for Dragonara Court are usually given out at a hotel round the corner - as proves to be the case. We can see that it's probably not a place that gets many floral deliveries.
Our key is for 414 but the fourth floor proves to be entirely offices (as well as an area labelled reception with no desk or anyone looking receptiony. Eventually we ask. Oh, 414 will be on the third floor. Why not? And it is. It's a big flat. Main room 33x13 feet with kitchen at the entry end and beds and dressing table at the balcony end. Surprisingly, or "studio" has a small second bedroom, complete with two single beds, a desk, and a wardrobe. Two heaters, a two burner cum oven cooker, small fridge, and a reasonable assortment of dishes, though one pot and a frying pan have had violence done to their teflon and there is only one bowl, though lots of plates and glasses as well as two big mugs. We have a new home.
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