Cheese and chalk.
Sandals and socks.
Blonde highlights with black roots.
An 80 year-old woman driving a sports car.
Some things just do not go together.
And the perfect case?
Us Maltese and manners.
First case in point:
I am having coffee with my mother and aunt in a cafe’ in Victoria. We are minding our own business, enjoying our drinks, and mum goes to the bathroom. Two women come in, one of whom knows my mother and aunt. In sprint-like movement, because it seemed like seconds, they came over to our table, one of the women put her face in mine and asked me whether I was pregnant (erm, duh?!?). She then touched my bump – something I just hate, hate, hate, especially from strangers who have no business in doing so. And the cherry on top the icing was when the other woman asked her companion who my mother was – she confused my mother with my aunt, to which the first woman replied, in an embarrassingly loud voice which could be heard all throughout the whole cafe’ – “She’s the one whose father died”.
And just like that, they left. It happened in what seemed like seconds, so much so that I only realized afterwards that one of them had touched me.
Case Number Two:
Went to church this morning with mum. Met my cousin after mass and since I had not seen her yet, I stopped to talk to her for a bit. A ‘lady’ passes us by, a woman I have only seen at times, someone I have never talked to or been introduced to, do not know and now have no wish of knowing, ever, stops next to us, congratulates me, and then asks me “Are you going to name the baby after your father?”
Talk about being gobsmacked and caught unawares.
I guess that’s Welcome to Gozo for me!!