As a tourist from the mid-1970s to the 1990s, John Guillaumier used to be fascinated by the sights of Malta. Here he shares some photos and anecdotes of his various visits over the years, conjuring nostalgia for that charming scenery and ambience that may be no more.

The write-up on the Maltese traditional fishing boats (luzzu) in Times of Malta (February 7) reminded me of photos I had taken at Marsaxlokk in the spring of 1988 while I was on holiday in Malta.

When I lived in Canada, from 1975 to 1995, I used to visit Malta on vacation on a regular basis. After having been away from Malta for several years, I could view the island with a fresh perspective each time I visited.

Marsaxlokk on a glorious spring afternoon, April 1988

In summer, the first impressions I used to have on arrival at the airport were the warm weather and the Mediterranean atmosphere, both of which put me instantly in a holiday frame of mind. My first sight of the blue Mediterranean sea on the way to my hotel in Sliema added to my joyous homecoming.

The change of scene from North America to Mediterranean Malta always made my holiday restful and enjoyable.

Picturesque Senglea, June 1994

One of my memorable visits to Malta occurred in 1988. Valletta looked glorious in the spring sunshine, especially as I looked down the side streets while I walked down Republic Street. The views of Sliema and the blue sea in the distance filled me with anticipation of places still to be explored and adventures still to be enjoyed.

I was enchanted by the beautiful vistas of land and sea at Senglea and I was bowled over by the spectacular panorama of Valletta from Vittoriosa.

At Vittoriosa, I discovered military fortifications that I had never seen before in my life. Prior to my visits as a tourist from Canada, I had no idea that Vittoriosa had so much to offer in terms of sightseeing.

While sightseeing at villages that I had not visited for a long time, I was struck by the old Maltese vernacular architecture, structurally plain and simple but aesthetically pleasing, with its golden-hued façades, and its alignment of houses in winding and narrow village streets. Our ancestors had an innate sense of “town planning”  and an eye for aesthetics.

An ornate doorway in a Żebbuġ alley, Malta, June 1994

Sometimes, I walked into a village street that was picture perfect. I would stop in my tracks as I came across some old dwelling bathed in such a striking play of light and shade that the building “demanded” a photo to be taken of it before the light moved on. Old Malta was very photogenic.

On the way to Żebbuġ, Gozo, June 1994

In Gozo, I was charmed by towns and villages perched on hilltops. When I visited the sister island in June 1994, I was awestruck by the sight of the citadel at Victoria as I approached it in my car on the road from Mġarr. I stopped by the wayside to take photos of the striking view. The massive citadel evoked for me romantic visions of Moorish Spain.

I’m not sure about now − with all the flats that are being built in Gozo − but, in the past, the island had an age-old mystique that fascinated me.

In the early 1960s, while staying at Manresa House in the outskirts of Victoria, I had an uncanny experience. 

Light and shade in a village alley, June 1994

As I looked out of the window in one of the rooms, I could see old houses in the near distance. The atmosphere was so calm and serene that time seemed to stand still. For a few fleeting moments, I had an impression of the tranquil life in Malta and Gozo in the 19th century, as if I were actually present at that time.

As T.S. Eliot says in Four Quartets: “Time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past.”

A 'golden cube' in a village cul-de-sac, June 1994