An-American-in-Malta

 

                    From Wall Street to

               Republic Street in Malta

 

                            Republic Street in Malta's capital of Valletta

 

 

With all due respect, I'm glad I'm leaving the USA at this time.  As many regular Americans, I've been living in an economic recession for years.  I don't need a crisis on Wall Street to let me know that.  And I feel fortunate to have found an alternative by moving to Malta, jekk Alla jrid. 

 

No, my cat didn't jump on the keyboard.  Those last three words--jekk Alla jrid--are Maltese for "G-d Willing."  If you honor me by reading this blog, you'll see these words very often.

 

A Maltese friend told me that the Maltese language has over 300 words for that expression.  This shows that the Maltese are either very religious--or very superstitious.  I'm betting on the latter--which makes me very happy because I'll fit right in.  Jekk Alla jrid. (You knew that was coming, didn't you?)

 

Have you ever had flashbacks of your childhood?

                   31 Days Until Malta

 

 

               This is the annual festa in Sliema.  We might live in this town.

 

I'm looking at this very nice photo of these very nice people in this very nice climate and I'm thinking:  I must be crazy to be moving to Malta.  How did this happen?

 

With one month and one day to go, my anxiety level is a Category 3 at this moment.  I've decided to label my anxiety according to hurricane status.  (I thought this was a good idea when I heard American political satirist Bill Mahr say that Sarah Palin, the Republican's  moose for vice-president, is a Category 5 moron.  In fact, if McCain wins, I'm seeking asylum in Malta, not residency.)

 

Right now, I'm in the middle of:

1. Still getting the right forms to bring my cat into Malta.  I won't know until I land in Malta if one of us will end up in quarantine.

2. Spending hundreds of bad US dollars on express mail service to get apostilles on all my documents for the permanent residency application.  I'll have a lot more on that because the process is unbelievable.

3. Praying my car doesn't get crushed until I sell it next week to a dealer.

4. Waiting for a device to come in the mail from Malta that will give me a secret code to get my PIN for my new HSBC--Malta account.

5. Sorting things for when the movers come on October 7th (gulp).

6. Trying to get rid of fleas on my cat.  That's all I need at the airport is for that Maltese pet official to come toward us with a flea comb.

 

I did have a great moment of excitement when I got my HSBC debit card in the mail last week.  It's pretty.  I was showing it off to everyone.  But I'm not that scared of my identity being stolen because no one seems to know the PIN for it--including HSBC.  I sure don't. 

 

More soon.  Any flea remedies out there besides that oily stuff you put on the back of the neck?  Maybe I should try it again on the cat this time...

        Today Obama, Tomorrow Malta

 

                   Barack Obama in Dover, NH, on September 12th, 2008

 

I have seen the next Promised President of the United States.  I may not be here when he's elected (I'll be in Malta--G-d Willing), but I have seen Him.

 

Today--during a CNN moment--I had an interaction with Barack Obama who came to Dover, NH, where I will remain living for the next six weeks before I leave the country for Malta.

 

Thursday, I saw in the paper that he was coming.  I went to the Obama campaign headquarters in Dover to see if I could get into the gym where he was speaking.  The director there told me, no, it was only by invitation for the undecided voter.

 

It was no use trying to convince them at the office that I was undecided; I had walked off with too many buttons and banners other times.  As I groveled, I suddenly got the idea of volunteering for the day.  Would that work?  Well, I was welcome to volunteer with the crowd outside but I wouldn't get in to see him.  Not enough room.

 

Moose s___.

HSBC--Malta Comes Through!

 

 

See it?  Here's my new bank in Malta--HSBC, located in the beautiful capital of Valletta.

 

There is one checking and one savings account with my name on it--and no money in either yet.  I have to wait for my "Welcome Packet" that is sailing at a brisk pace through snail mail.  I hope it comes before I leave for Malta in the 3rd week of October.

 

It took over three months to set up this account--and that was through the fast lane via a $200 loading fee.

 

I had to start the process through HSBC-America International.  I never once got to speak to the person who was handling my case.  But I was much more fortunate on the Malta side.  Through several dozen emails back and forth, I got very reliable and consistent service through the Maltese HSBC director of international banking.

 

And guess what?  I even got invited to coffee and pastizzi ( a very fattening Maltese pastry) when I get to Malta with the director (although she said she won't eat any herself).  I am truly moving up in the world.  I never got invited to anything in an American bank except to sit in a chair and wait my turn for the next available representative.

 

And here's something interesting.  HSBC-America asked if I wanted to open a Mastercard in Malta.  I said yes (I have no credit card debt, BTW). And then I was told that I couldn't.  Why?  Because the banks in Malta like to get to know you first before they extend credit.  Huh?

 

What's wrong with those banks in Malta?  They apparently have a lot to learn from the American banks about taking risks with their new clients.

 

       Leaving Friends for Malta

 

 

 

Twenty two years ago in Nashua, NH, I was sitting with my week-old daughter--my younger one--in a meeting for mothers with newborns.  There was a woman sitting in front of me with a baby of her own.  She turned, looked at my baby and said, "She's so cute, I could take her home with me."

 

I thought to myself: What kind of nut who just had her own baby could imagine taking home another one? 

 

That nut was V. 

 

And yesterday--over two decades later--I said good-bye to V and her husband (and great marital sparring partner) K--a doctor who has diagnosed many conditions of mine from afar.  We hadn't seen each other in a very long time, and they moved into a home that reminds me of one of my favorite places in the Northeast--Waterville Valley.

 

If you 're lucky, you have a friend like V who you can talk to and pick up a thread of conversation no matter how much time has passed since you saw each other.  And you're extra lucky if that friend has a significant other/partner/spouse/ whatever who is an MD.

 

Whenever I see Dr. K I have the irresistible urge to show him something I'm scared about--even if it's been diagnosed already.  Yesterday, it was a sebaceous cyst on a spot partly on my chest and partly on my breast.