Postcard from Malta

Jutting out of the sea like a defiant but slowly dissolving sugar lump halfway between Sicily and North Africa, the isle of Malta has seemingly always been on the frontier between different worlds. A strategic stronghold controlling passage from East to West, the small island nation has been fought over for its tactical advantage by almost every major European power from the Romans to the Crusaders and from the British Empire to the Axis powers. 

It's not surprising, then, that Malta bears witness to such a range of cultures and architectural styles. The historic heart of the capital Valletta has the grandeur of a city of empire but the compactness and dusty charm (and characteristic balconies) that could put it somewhere on the Iberian. It's hard to place, but maybe it's just idiosyncratic, with past and present civilisations living and breathing the island's sandy limestone.

The same rock also produces a fascinating coastal terroir, supporting Malta's rich natural heritage, too. The narrow streets of the old town sweep onto broad limestone fortifications which, deserting their original purpose, now play host to beautiful parks and green spaces. The Barrakka Gardens, brimming with history and adorned with the year-round greenery of palms and cycads, must be some of the most scenic fortifications going. 

In some neighbourhoods, the labyrinthine city streets are lined with oddly familiar plants. Ubiquitous in British homes, glossy-leaved staples such as umbrella plants and spider plants thrive outdoors in Malta's gentle climes and provide the streetscape with cool greenery.

Out of the capital, tumbledown dry stone walls demarcate field boundaries across a landscape of gentle hills and bluffs, making the countryside seem more like an exotic corner of Yorkshire than an island in the Med, and providing shelter to orange groves and fields of beans, aubergines, pumpkins and globe artichokes.

And as prehistoric remains cling to the clifftops, which themselves are eroded into coves and arches by the open sea, the Maltese coastline also presents some real botanical treats, where nature curates a stunning Spring-like display: even in the depths of Winter, you can find sunny yellow inflorescences, wild borage and peppery rocket, as well as modest succulents eking out an existence between the cracks. 

Having glimpsed how Malta's heritage and plant life seem to be entangled with the rock that bear them, I wonder how the land beneath our feet shapes the megaliths we construct, and the nature around us. In a global and connected city such as Manchester, can you still tell how the earth beneath our feet resounds in us?