Alison Bezzina

Gozo retreats are not for everyone. Some are definitely not for the faint hearted and others are definitely not for people who do not know how to let go of everything and relax. Just like cruises and adventure holidays, trips to Gozo are only beneficial for particular creeds of people. They are ideal for those whose senses are fuzzy like those still in the first throws of a love affair. They are also great for those who are after some wild partying and don’t mind sleeping in downtrodden flats with amenities and furniture dating to the 1950s, but mostly, Gozo is perfect for those who, like me, have contracted the Gozo bug leaving them totally helpless to the allure of the island.

 

Just like the rest of my generation, my very first trips to Gozo were day trips with my parents and the rest of the extended family. Unfortunately these family trips stopped happening when I was still very young, and today all I can remember is that there was always some family member who turned green at the sight of the ferry and ‘fed the fishes’ all the way to, and from Gozo. Later on, when I hit my late teens, amid much pomp and circumstance, heavy negotiations and detailed instructions from my parents, I somehow managed to get permission to cross the channel alone with my friends. As one might expect, these trips were now very different from the ones that I had experienced with my parents, but funnily, still very much related to people turning green and participating in projectile vomit competitions. Those were the days when I pretended to enjoy unruly parties, loud music, irresponsible drinking and dodging teenage boys in hormone frenzies. No matter what happened during these trips, no matter who ended up with whom and who ended up in trouble, there was an underlying understanding amongst all and sundry that there would be a fabricated parent-friendly version of the facts that would guarantee another trip to Gozo. Clearly we knew that the true version of the what went on would have been way too much for any parent to close an eye on, and that this trumped-up story was the only way that we could make sure that we would not be grounded for life.

 

A standard detail in the toned-down version of the truth was that we had rented two separate flats for the boys and girls to sleep separately at night. Generally speaking, this would be classified as nothing but a lie, however when a bunch of teenagers visit Gozo without any adult supervision, the chances that any of the rented flats are occupied at night are close to nothing; secondly those teenagers who usually rush into the flat in order to occupy all the double rooms have certainly not been waiting for Gozo to go beyond friendship, and finally, the smell of stale air together with the thought of what could have possibly happened on the same sheets that you are now on, and the possibility of one of your ten friends walking in on you, make these Gozitan holiday flats as romantic and conducive to sexcapades as waiting for the noon bus in the middle of August.

 

With that bizarre phase out of the way, I now visit Gozo every chance I get, mostly because I no longer need my parents’ permission and, secondly because I find it better than paying through my teeth to fly out for a short break and getting stressed out with traveling plans. Today my Gozo breaks are of an entirely different nature, not because I have grown older nor the wiser, but simply because I can finally afford not to share a flat with another ten people, I can choose to have both cereal and toast for breakfast, and I do not have to resort to stealing salt and pepper from restaurants in order to season my salad.

 

Gozo is the only place that gives me the possibility of crossing over to a different world at a moment’s notice without airport security nightmares, luggage claim disasters and the nervous tension that comes with the unknown. In Gozo I get away without having to figure out maps, area codes, driving on the other side of the road, mobile roaming charges, and for most of the time, I find that there are no language issues. So when in Gozo, I just kick off my shoes and lie low, which keeps my stress levels below detection and my mood high up in the clouds.

 

They say that traveling is like a book, and that those who do not travel, have read only one page, but by simply retreating to Gozo I catch up with enough reading to make up for a trip around the world, and with every trip, I realize that many a time, when we travel to faraway places, we come back in fascination of things and people that we ignore so close to home.

 

First Published in The Sunday Times August 2008.