The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 3

It ticks a lot of boxes when you’re a young family wanting to leave Malta. You’re still in the EU and using the Euro. Minimal language barriers (the accent mainly). Lots of greenery. Rich history. And some added perks for me personally, like the pub culture and the city of Liverpool being only a ferry away.

 

We hunkered down and spent weeks doing our research, learning about the provinces and the counties (it kind of felt like learning the map for Game of Thrones). The standard of living, education, healthcare, driving, and how to pronounce Taoiseach. We joined a Facebook group for Maltese living in Ireland. The more we were indulging ourselves in all the new information, the more certain it was becoming: whatever happens, there was no turning back. There was one question though – timing.

 

The end of Year 1 of primary school was looming for our oldest. In Żabbar, there are two separate buildings dedicated to primary students, with those starting Year 3 moving to the second one. We knew it would take at least months to relocate to somewhere new, so our thought process was, are we really going to change schools next year and then possibly again the year after? We wanted change, but we didn’t want to turn her life upside down. I would know; it took me years to (sort of) adjust to the culture shock after moving to Gozo after practically spending the first 10 years of my life in Manhattan.

 

So it was decided – there would be a change of schools, but once. And that would be for 2022/23. Summer 2022 was our target.

 

Oh, that’s right, the world was still on lockdown. Flying, even just for a short trip to scope out what we could, and especially with the youngest now in tow, was near impossible. And now that we set ourselves a deadline, time started to tick really fast.

 

This wasn’t going to work.

 

Things felt stagnant. More weeks passed, when one weekend we were in Gozo visiting family, which we were doing maybe every couple of weeks. The weather was its usually sunny self and, although perhaps diminishing overall, the greenery on the island seemed more poignant than usual. Maybe because there were less people out and about thanks to Covid. But it was nice and quiet. Peaceful.

 

The trip back on the Sunday evening was, as the norm, an absolute nightmare. Three hours of travelling. The packing, ferry queue, the traffic, the pee breaks during the drive, the unpacking, preparing for the upcoming week. Surely there was a better way?

 

Gozo. Everything is close by. Life seems slower (sometimes for better, sometimes for worse). It’s so quiet. There’s family. The oldest hated saying goodbye every Sunday. It’s… kind of like leaving Malta without actually leaving the country, right? There is a culture change, but without any major shocks.

 

We were seeking new pastures alright.

 

In Ireland Gozo.