Monday night or Tuesday morning? Well, technically Tuesday morning. About five o'clock we hear the man across the hall calling his partner to let him in. He seemed a nice enough bloke when we met him yesterday as we tried to get the key fob to turn on the electrics in the flat. (The fob had seen better days but J's substitute of a spoon handle worked well). He's not really losing it now, alternating between pleading and shouting Natalia, Natalia. Knocking, then pounding. Silence and more pounding. She's not in, or she's OD'd or she's punishing him. Almost I'm tempted to offer him a kip in our spare room. Then, as J has predicted, he breaks the door in. No sound from Natalia, who is presumably not there, and, admirably enough, some sound of repairs being made. So back to sleep.
The theory is that we share wifi with Berlitz language school in the same building and reception, on the fourth floor, gives us the code. Available in the tiny lobby by the always open front door. Reviews have said that it's available - and also that the availability is a lie. Not quite either. Berlitz seems to have pretty limited hours, but there are also some unsecured wifi sources around, of varying and uneven strength. So not cut off but not entirely satisfactory either. Many hotels in various countries seem slow on the uptake re wifi. It's rapidly becoming like hot water or television - should be standard.
We're in St Julian, or more accurately in Paceville (Pace bit not pronounced as it looks but as in the Latin for peace, paw-chay). It's one of the most densely populated places in the world at about 10,000 people per square kilometre (assuming it's more or less the same as adjoining Sliema). Most of them young, it seems. Vibrant, multi-ethnic and lively. Colleges, restaurants, bars, tiny shops. A happy feeling, studenty - so far - rather than the holidaying football yobs we'd been led to expect.
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