Mission accomplished

Steve and I ate countless delicious meals over the course of this trip, but I have to say: few things tasted more satisfying than the glue on the stamp I bought in Monaco, the last of the seven Europeans microstates we had set out to visit.

I started planning the first iteration of our Microstate Tour early in 2020 and had booked virtually every aspect of it when governments at home and abroad prohibited international traveling. I then planned and arranged a second version in the spring of 2021 — that one structured around the two French weddings we were invited to (in Bordeaux and Provence). But uncertainty over lingering Covid regulations forced the respective couples to postpone their nuptials to the fall. So I planned and booked the trip a third time. Heading to the airport at the end of August, I only half-believed Steve and I would complete the itinerary.

But it all came off, almost flawlessly. The worst glitch was Alitalia’s cancellation of our three flights (one from Rome to Malta and the one from Sicily to Nice, via Rome). I found alternative carriers, however, and I even nurse some hope we’ll get our money back from the canceled legs.

At the second wedding last weekend, several people asked what my favorite tiny country was. What I could tell them was that the one both Steve and I longed to spend more time in was Malta.Ironically, Malta is the one microstate I didn’t blog about. We had barely 72 hours there and then went on to Sicily, where we met our friend Michael and blasted around the Italian island like Amazing Race contestants. On Sicily I barely had a moment to sit down, let alone write. And then we raced on to Monaco.

Before going to Malta I had predicted to Steve that San Marino would wind up winning the biggest piece of my heart. I loved the feisty Sammarinese independence and the beauty-drenched vistas you meet around every corner. The vibe is very different in Malta. Roughly four times bigger than San Marino, it’s a monochromatic world, at least around its magnificent harbor (the only area we got to).

One of the inlets into the much larger harbor

Almost everything is built out of pinkish tan sandstone, which makes it look a bit like a movie set. Dozens of productions have been filmed here in recent years.

They include Game of Thrones, The Da Vinci Code, Captain Phillips, and more.

Malta the country consists of five islands. We only got to the biggest, most populated one (also called Malta). We stayed in a 400-plus-year-old building on Senglea, a finger of land sticking into the harbor.

Viewed from Valleta, Senglea is the finger on the right. To the left stands the fort that was the site of the great siege.

This side of the harbor was the one-time bastion of the famous Knights of Malta, wealthy Christian noblemen who hailed from all over Europe and hated Islam. In the early 12th century, they fought as Crusaders and over time evolved into something like anti-Islamic pirates. In 1530, the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V gave them Malta as a permanent home, and they reached perhaps their greatest moment of glory in 1565 when about 500 knights and a couple thousand foot soldiers held out against a vastly larger fleet of Turkish warriors. After their success in resisting the Turkish siege, Muslim expansion into Europe ended; a pretty good case can be made that because of what happened in Malta 450 years ago, Western Europe today is dotted with cathedrals rather than mosques.

We stayed on this street.
The view from our kitchen window.
Walking down to the main thoroughfare from our byway.

The larger than life character who led the Maltese resistance was a Knight named Jean La Valette. He oversaw the building of a new capital across the harbor from Senglea and its two sister cities. The new enclave became Valletta, which claims the honor of being the first planned city in all of Europe. La Valette designed an orderly grid in which tall stone buildings lined streets made intentionally narrow so that folks walking down them would be shaded from Malta’s blazing sun. Valleta is just a ten-minute ferry ride from Senglea. Steve and I made the trip a couple of times in order to sample Valleta’s crackling night life, visit a few of its sumptuous churches, and take in some of it scenic viewpoints.

One of the traditional Maltese vessels.
Here’s one of the dozens of Valleta’s lively side streets

But we were keenly aware of all we couldn’t cram in — exploring important archeological sites both on Malta and Gozo (the second biggest island), swimming and snorkeling in the turquoise local waters, visiting other museums and forts, and more.

But you can never see it all, eh? On our Microstate Tour, Steve and I were away from home for 42 nights. We passed through 11 different countries, slept in 22 different lodgings, and on several occasions I felt as tired as I can imagine ever feeling. Yet over and over the sights and people and new insights recharged us. If we didn’t see it all, we never regretted trying.

As one final note, I have to credit an excellent book, Secrets of the Seven Smallest States of Europe, by Thomas Eccardt that I stumbled upon after I was well into planning Steve’s and my trip. Published in 2005, it’s too dated to be a practical travel manual today, but Eccardt’s lucid writing about the mind-numbingly complex history of all these places was a great help. To anyone else who’s tempted to see Andorra, Liechtenstein, Luxembourg, San Marino, Vatican City, Malta, and Monaco — or any combination of them — I recommend it. And wish you bon voyage!

Adrenaline-powered travel

So far this trip has been spectacular. Steve and I both feel great. It will rank among my most satisfying and interesting journeys of all time, I’m already sure. But our transit to Malta was a reminder that travel in the time of Covid is not for the faint-hearted.

Malta, the third-largest of the European microstates, is smack in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. You can get to it by ferry, and I tried to arrange that. But ferry rides ultimately proved too complicated.

That left airplanes. To get there, I booked us on an Alitalia flight leaving Rome around 5 pm Thursday afternoon (9/23) and arriving in Malta about 6:30 pm. From Malta to Sicily (our next stop), I got seats for us on Ryanair. But then from Sicily to Nice (France), Alitalia once again seemed like the best choice.

I knew Alitalia was iffy. The Italian airline filed for bankruptcy back in 2017, but they’ve managed to continue operating since then. They treated me well in 2020, the first time I had to cancel our microstate trip (because of the pandemic). They ultimately refunded every penny I had paid. This time around, I spent more for refundable Alitalia tickets because I knew things might get snarled up.

The first hint of the coming disaster arrived in my inbox the day we got to Liechtenstein. Alitalia had canceled our morning flight from Rome to Nice, the email informed me, moving us to a late-afternoon flight that would require us spending most of a day in the Rome airport. At least as disturbing: when I went online to look at alternatives, I found a note at the top of the page saying Alitalia would sell no tickets after October 15. That’s how we learned they were finally going out of business.

I scrambled and managed to book flights to Nice on Lufthansa — about the same price, if longer (we’ll have to fly from Sicily to Munich to Nice, requiring almost 6 hours in airports and on planes instead of three and a half.) But since our Alitalia tickets were fully refundable, I had some hope of getting that money back.

This turn of events made me nervous, though, and last Wednesday, the day before our flight to Malta, I made sure to check in and get our Alitalia boarding passes. The flight was on time, the website said, and with the passes in my Apple wallet, I felt relieved.Less than two hours later, while eating what we thought would be our last dinner with Megan, I got another email from Alitalia, this one informing me our flight the next day, for which I had just secured boarding passes, had been canceled. No explanation was offered for why.

How could we get to Malta now? Would our microstate streak be foiled by Italian flakiness? Google Flights didn’t offer any good alternatives, but when I checked the Air Malta website, I found a 10 am flight Friday morning for a fraction of what the Alitalia tickets had cost. Only three seats were left, but I managed to secure two of them for Steve and me. This change in plan required us to cancel the hotel I’d reserved in Malta for Thursday night. Instead we got a room at the hotel near Rome’s airport. Megan was already booked in there to spend the night before her departure on Delta for the US — which coincidentally left at the exact same time as our Air Malta flight: 10 am Friday morning.

In some ways, this change proved fortuitous. It gave us all of Thursday with Megan, and the three of us shared a phenomenally good meal that night at a waterside restaurant near the hotel. Because of concerns over the longer lead time required for a US flight, she decided to take the 6:45 am airport shuttle the next morning, while we would go on the 7:30 one. We said our heartfelt goodbyes in the hotel lobby Thursday night.

I got the first WhatsApp message from her Friday morning, just a moment after we had boarded our 7:30 shuttle bus.

Since our flight was also due to depart at 10, this sent a jolt of adrenaline through my system. Later, we learned that at hundreds of striking air workers were staging a sit-in that morning on the highway between Rome and the airport. To protest EU constraints on the hiring of Alitalia workers by the new carrier that’s scheduled to replace it (called ITA), they reportedly brought a fake coffin draped with European flags and plopped it in front of the airport.

The coffin must have gotten there after we did. Steve and I arrived to find the airport eerily empty. Though Alitalia’s presence had obviously dominated Terminal 1, all human trace of it had vanished: no staff, no passengers.Happily, we found humans behind one Air Malta check-in counter; there we queued up behind maybe a dozen other passengers. When we reached the desk and the stressed-out clerk asked for our proof of vaccination and Maltese Passenger Locator Form (PLF), I felt almost smug showing her the QR codes for both. She unsettled me, however, when she also asked for our VeriFLY clearance for Malta. VeriFLY is a Covid document-verification app that we had downloaded in San Diego. We’d jumped through all its electronic hoops and had gotten a cheery reassurance that we were cleared for travel there. But we’d heard it was no longer required, so we hadn’t checked ours in a while.

When I pulled up the app, a disconcerting message informed me “Needs to be completed!” We protested that we HAD completed it, but the app had somehow forgotten what we’d told it, and besides, we had also just presented our vax proof and PLFs. But the desk clerk was flinty. No green check mark from VeriFLY, no Malta.

Fortunately, we had arrived at the airport with lots of time. So we managed to jump through the VeriFLY hoops again, get our boarding passes……make it through yet another documentation check at the gate……and more upon arrival. My bags were searched more thoroughly than any time in memory. (Oddly, Steve received no such scrutiny.)

In the end we arrived, however, and now I can say unequivocally: it was worth it. But that’s another story.

Two weddings and a tour of the teeny-tiny countries

If you’re reading this, it means Steve and I have managed to cross the Atlantic Ocean, enter France, and make our way to the apartment of our friend Olivia in Neuilly, just outside the Paris city limits. We will have begun an adventure I began planning two years ago, inspired by an invitation to the wedding of Olivia’s older daughter, Annabelle. Originally, we expected to fly to Europe in May of 2020, but the Covid lockdowns forced everyone to cancel all their plans. When the wedding was rescheduled and a second wedding (of Annabelle’s sister, Marguerite) was set for May/June 2021, I rebooked everything. But a surge in case levels led the sisters to postpone their celebrations again.

Now we’ve made it into the country and are just four days from the first nuptials, which will take place in Bordeaux. The second event takes place October 9 in the south of France. In between Steve and I have planned a wide-ranging tour through some of the smallest countries on earth: Andorra, Luxembourg, Liechtenstein, San Marino, Vatican City, Malta, and Monaco.

We’ve both been to Vatican City before, and Steve made a lightning visit to Liechtenstein in 1974, but the rest will be new to us. The micro states stand out in other ways beyond their limited size. They rank among the wealthiest countries on Earth, and their citizens live longer than almost anywhere else (because prosperity and physical well-being go hand in hand?) They have oddball forms of government. Three are principalities, one’s a Grand Duchy, Vatican City is a city-state (Malta and San Marino are humdrum republics.)

We have to fly into and out of Malta (an island). But mostly we expect to get around on trains and buses and in a couple of rented cars. We smile at how this trip reminds us of our honeymoon 47 years ago. Then we tore around Europe’s Big Bruisers — France, Germany, Switzerland, Yugoslavia, Greece, Italy. How different will it be to visit the pipsqueaks? We don’t know. But we are optimistic it will be interesting.