The Destination

Like walking in the desert, the dunes on the horizon never seem to be getting closer. They are static, faded, but illuminated as my destination. The sand beneath me acts like a treadmill and I don’t seem to be moving closer to my destination.

A palm oasis to my left, the ultimate distraction. The glistening water, the proximity, the treadmill breaks loose and I can walk, walk into my new destination. The destination is but a distraction, and is not real. A false goal in life, an illusion, a mere wish, a short phase. Mirages change people, many find that oasis at the end of their shorter, lighter walk, however its water is often dry, and a muddy surface replaces it. The trees that once reflected in the shiny water have died, and have been replaced by nothing alive.

For those who keep focused on the dunes, in the long haul they will enlarge, they will seem real, they will be climbed. The journey is the destination. It is worth the longer wait, the dream will be realized. Along the way your canteen might dry up, as will your morale, however just keep putting one step before the other. The destination is real, the oasis there is pure, it is heaven.

Sometimes in life it is better to walk that extra mile, to reach the water on the other side.

... and now its time to head back to 505

First gear

First Gear


Clutch, gas, first gear. Clutch, gas second gear… brake. Repeat cycle. This is the system we all call early morning entertainment. That 30 minute drive every single morning as we make our way to the Mecca of our student life, the University of Malta feels like hours.

30 precious minutes trod by in the same routine, seeing the same thing, singing the same tune, cursing the same traffic. How many times have I read that same bumper sticker in front of me? I’ve inspected every inch of my car, and I’m bored. There’s only so much the Focus can offer. I’ve read all the manuals, safety stickers, tooted the horn enough and literally studied the interior design.

Each minute strapped in feels like an hour, each hour a day. The clock receives more attention then my speedometer. I glance at it an average of once a minute, sometimes the minute hand wouldn’t have even budged.

With the first five minutes out of my way, I resort to my entertainment system and slap some lively morning music on my iPOD. People passing by now can enjoy the view of a wide open mouth, as I literally make my speakers redundant. Thankfully my windows are shut and the misery is contained.

Finally I arrive at my destination, and now the real challenge beings: looking for that sacred space, that hole in the floor. Can I squeeze in there, or there? Ah, that’s reserved, as is that one, and that one. Now the panic sets in, which excuse have I not used yet? Will my lecturer be sad enough to believe? Perhaps ill use the puppy eyes this morning, and really go full swing. My sincere apologies go out to my teacher, I’m late… again!

T - four days

T – four days

That’s it, final four days till our much anticipated trip to Morocco, and I for one simply can’t wait! The mountains, the desert, the markets and the Atlantic all await our arrival, as for the first time ever; I shall travel outside Europe and into the unknown. A new continent, a new culture, new food and new traditions all wait to welcome me, as I look forward to indulging in the Moroccan way of life.

My golden rule while travelling is simply that the use of the net is prohibited. I probably will occasionally use the Vodafone website to sms my girlfriend and parents, but that is about it, and this only means that I will have no way of finding out the Manchester United vs Manchester City game, a match I am gutted to be missing, however Morocco is a good enough reason. Due to the lack of internet my blog will not be updated, so a chunch of pages will be added on my arrival back home.

I have an outline or a vague idea of what I’ll be doing in Morocco, but Eddy is the main man with the plan, so literally anything can happen. My only few targets were the desert, mountains and the ocean, the rest is all just a bit of a surprise. I’m never one to not try something new, so I am sure to taste some strange food and try my hand at camel riding or something of the sort. Africa is a place which has always fascinated me, but as yet eluded me, so this offers me a chance to make my first footprint in the diverse continent. Though Morocco is a small section of the mass of land, early footsteps are what it’s all about.

Another thing I’m looking forward to is the actual travelling. We have booked flights to Madrid, and will drive it down the centre of Spain all the way to Gibraltar. A trip to the Santiago Benabeu is due, which is never a bad thing. I’ve always wanted to go to Spain, and a seven hour drive is just the way to do it. In Spain we will also indulge in the curious meal of bull’s balls, something I can’t wait to dig into. Spanish culture at its finest, followed by the Arabian culture of the people of Morocco. Bring it on.

After a first night in Gibraltar with ape’s for company, a ferry will take us across the channel in the corner of the Med sea. Traveling between continents by boat is just the perfect way to do it. The panoramic views will offer Europe on one end, and Africa on the other, and that will allow for some unique photographic moments. Sadly my camera is below standard, but as they say it’s never about the dog in the fight, but the fight on the dog, still a slick SLR would be an investment. Our first night will be in tangier, which precedes a six hour train ride to Fes. That is basically all I know about the trip, and that is the last point of civilization before the desert and mountain visits. All that will be followed by a trip up the Atlantic coast, and a first dip into the great ocean. Stepstonning one town to the other until we reach Tangier again, and our ferry takes us back across to our home continent of Europe.

The cities of Fes, Marrakesh, Rabat and Casablanca are on the horizon, and shanty rattling trains will take us to our destinations, where we will be greeted by the friendly, yet curious people of the great North African coast. God knows what they will try to sell us, so I must allow room in my rucksack for the diverse souvenirs on offer in the labyrinths of markets Morocco offers.

In all honesty I have no clue as to what to expect from anything, and these little thoughts are nothing but insignificant ideas. Having no expectations means that there will be no disappointments and the number one aim is to relax and enjoy everything on offer.

* * * * *

5 stars: I’d give more if I could. Stunning acting, beautiful language, interesting scripts and creative scenery. It is difficult to exaggerate the excellence of Quentin Tarantino’s latest film Inglourious Basterds. It is quite simply his masterpiece.

Set in Nazi Occupied France, Tarantino wows his audiences by starting the film with the entry line of “Once upon a time… in Nazi occupied France”. The story takes us from French cow country, to the city lights of Paris and perverses the history books to create what one may call a Jewish Dream. A series of twists and bends take us on a roller coaster ride of Tarantino’s thoughts, and his eye for detail and scenic depth allow us to enjoy the beauty of each precise shot and scene, whether it is outdoor or indoor.

The acting is second to none, straight off the top drawer. Typically, a host of guest actors, and foreign talent are on display, and the multi tongued Christopher Waltz shows offers a lesson in acting throughout the film. Bradd Pitt would be the first eye catcher on the all star line up, however his role is rather cameo when compared to the superb Waltz. Tarantino uses his critical eye throughout the film and his controlling nature as a director ensures all thoughts, even the details one would call insignificant, are portrayed majestically.

The use of language is perhaps the film’s most interesting characteristic three languages are used and this adds reality and urgency to the script, and also respects the different languages of our union. English should not be the only language at our cinemas and all films set in other countries should use the original language, as it is simply unfair to replace cultures with a global language. One thing that annoys me personally is seeing foreign accents represent languages, this is simply ridiculous, and though the temptation might have been irresistible, Tarantino still ensures all languages are respected and this is the film’s highlight.

A brainchild of a genius, a masterpiece of a true great, this film is certainly one to watch for all cinema lovers.

C'est magnifique.
Masterpiece would be an understatement