The Idea of It

“Can we move abroad as a family?”

That’s how all of this started—a simple question from Sebastian as we sat around the kitchen island in Colorado. A single spark that eventually led us, one way or another, to the island of Malta.

When we began our search for where we wanted to move abroad, we had a few rules. It had to be Europe. It had to be near the water, which is something Alli and I both grew up loving. And it had to welcome remote workers. So, we started looking.

The first location wasn’t Lisbon. It was Malta. All because of an ad I saw, which really became the visualization I needed to help get the entire move-abroad process going.

The idea of Malta took hold fast: cobblestone streets, baroque architecture, the center of the Mediterranean crossroads. And that video became the inspiration I needed to imagine an entirely new kind of life, one that was coastal and culturally rich, where our surroundings would force us to adopt an entirely new perspective. It felt right. We booked tickets for spring break, bought the guidebook, and started picturing ourselves there.

Then, a few weeks before departure, I picked Sebastian up from school. For some reason, I put Portuguese fado music on the radio that day, and we talked about Lisbon, how that would be a cool place for us to go, as well, if Malta didn't work out. Later that night, I checked my email and discovered that our connecting flight to Malta had been canceled—with no viable options for rescheduling. So, we pivoted. We looked at the other names on our list: Valencia, San Sebastián, and, of course, Lisbon. And that’s exactly where we wound up instead. We booked an Airbnb in what some magazine had just called the “coolest neighborhood in the world," which is, ironically, the very neighborhood we now call home.

In many ways, I’ve always felt like Lisbon picked us. Sebastian and I were both sold after that first visit. We ruled Malta out for practical reasons, but over the next year, the signs pointing us toward Portugal kept appearing. And while Alli initially leaned toward Spain, she eventually saw what we saw—that Portugal was our place.

There's always a fast-forward in stories like this, and this one leads to a karaoke night, of all things. It was hosted by one of the dads at Sebastian’s school. We were one of the first to arrive, and wound up talking to a couple we didn't recognize, a couple who had been added to the invite thread at the last minute. We became instant friends with Dominque and Nate, spending several subsequent nights of fun and laughter with them. We were saddened to learn earlier in the year, though, that they were leaving Portugal and moving back to...

Malta.

A few months later, our friends the Singhs, who also knew them from karaoke, suggested a trip to Malta. Naturally, Dom and Nate were the first people we contacted. Three and a half years after our initial flights were cancelled, we finally made it there.

Malta was everything we’d imagined—ancient and modern, bright and slow, layered with centuries of influence. It felt familiar in the best way, especially around the Three Cities, where Dom and Nate were renovating an apartment in Birgu. We planned to meet them for dinner that evening and decided to wander first to allow them time to finish work. We followed the narrow lanes, climbed a set of stairs that Steve pointed out, and as we turned the corner—there she was. Dominique was walking out of her apartment.

We literally ran into the only people we knew in the entire country. No plan. No text. No coordination. Just timing.

Sometimes the idea of one place is what guides you toward another. In our case, the first place was Malta, and the final place was Lisbon. As much as I love Malta—and know it would have worked beautifully—its purpose in our story was never to be the destination. It was the inspiration. The spark that set everything in motion.

Malta didn’t bring us abroad. The idea of it did. The willingness to see where life might take us, and the courage to follow. Lisbon became home not just because we chose it, but because it kept choosing us.

And the irony, of course, is that if we hadn’t moved to Portugal, we never would have met the only two people we know in Malta—and we certainly wouldn’t have run into them on a random street in Birgu.

Dominque and Nate Said:

Malta is hard to describe to those who have never had the chance to visit. It’s a blend of so many cultures and influences, reflected in the architecture, language, food and even the rhythm of daily life. Thanks to its strategic position in the Mediterranean Sea, Malta has seen its fair share of action: from Arab rule, to the Knights of St John, the French, the British during World War II, and finally gaining its independence in 1964.

The architecture is a dream for history lovers: vast limestone bastions and star-shaped fortifications built by the Knights of St John, still standing as magnificently today as when they were first constructed. The skyline, dotted with domes, church spires and fortress walls, is unlike that of any typical European country.

One of the best places to feel this history is in the Three Cities: Vittoriosa (Birgu), Senglea (Isla) and Cospicua (Bormla). These ancient harbour towns were the original stronghold of the Knights and played a heroic role during the Great Siege of 1565. Later, under British rule, they became the beating heart of the Royal Navy dockyards and were heavily bombed during World War II. Today, the same creaking wooden balconies and honey-coloured alleys tell quieter stories: old men playing cards on tiny squares, laundry swaying above narrow streets, and superyachts moored where warships once docked.

If you’re lucky, you may also catch a glimpse of women who spend their days on the street, outside their homes, creating traditional Maltese lace, a practice called Il-bizzilla. This can normally be seen in Gozo. Every Maltese household contains a lace creation, be it a tablecloth, doily or clothing.

Sunset along Birgu’s waterfront, with the fortifications glowing gold, feels like walking through a living museum.

The language stems from Arabic, with infusions of Italian, English and a touch of French here and there. The people are proud and passionate about their heritage, whilst welcoming to visitors, and you can feel that cultural blend in every conversation, village feast and every plate of food.

If you have never had the chance to see a village feast, it’s highly recommended. Every village has a patron saint who is celebrated annually. It’s a serious undertaking and seen as a privilege by those who take part. It usually takes a couple of weeks to set up: banners, flags, firework displays, band marches, speeches and processions are all carefully organised. Then the week of festivities is enjoyed by all, culminating in loud,
thunderous fireworks that light up the night sky. Each village is quietly (or not so quietly) competing with all the others to throw the “best feast” and, year on year, they become bigger, brighter and louder.

And, as always, it helps when you know a couple of locals who can give you the real lowdown on where to go, what to eat, and how to dodge the tourist traps—especially in those magical backstreets.

The Singhs Said:

Malta had never really been on my radar, mostly because someone once told me it was little more than a rock. But it was so much more than a rock, and I’m so glad we went. We picked Malta for several reasons, one being the weather, which did not disappoint. With 28 degrees in October (82 Fahrenheit), it was a welcome final chance to soak up some sun before Lisbon’s inevitable slide into the torrential rain we always get at this time of year (it arrived while we were gone and is still here, sadly). Another motivation was to visit friends we met in Lisbon who have since moved there.

Dominique was born in Malta but grew up in London to Maltese parents, and she had returned to buy and renovate a beautiful townhouse, originally built — I’m guessing — sometime in the Victorian era. Her husband Nathan (pronounced ‘Nat-han’ by no-one I think except his mum who is French) also grew up in the U.K. He told us a story about how early in their relationship they bonded over their respective continental European grandparents traumatising them as young children by capturing rabbits from fields and making them choose and name (!) one to be killed and eaten for dinner. It’s very surprising they aren’t vegetarians.

Dominique and Nathan’s new house is across a stretch of water from Valletta, Malta’s capital, in an area called Birgu — one of three peninsulas, or fingers, called the Three Cities. You can reach Birgu from Valletta by car if you brave the notoriously heavy traffic, or by motorised gondola, which is the route we chose and by far the most pleasant boat trip of the week. More on that later. Trigger alert: seasickness will be mentioned.

Birgu turned out to be a chocolate-box sort of place, with touches of Bellagio on Lake Como and elements of provincial France with its modest but pretty town square. This is where we briefly lost Chad to his inner world as we watched a glorious late-summer sunset sitting outside at a café with a bottle of rosé. Before that, we’d toured Dominique and Nathan’s house — currently a shell with a long way to go, but the original tiles, wooden paneled doors and stone staircase made it easy to imagine how stunning it will be. I lost track of how many floors it had (three?), but right at the top was a roof terrace with a spectacular view of the river and Valletta, which we had just rowed across from.

The topic of rabbit had come up during our last dinner in Malta with Dominique and Nathan — it’s a national dish, which we unfortunately didn’t manage to try this time. Happily, that just means we’ll have to return. The food we did try was heavily influenced by Italy, unsurprisingly, and also by Malta’s Arabic roots: savoury pastries with fillings that seemed to feature a lot of peas, but also fish and meat. I tried one shaped like a volcano, filled with anchovies, olives and a cooked tomato mixture — salty and delicious. They also sold  Cornish pasties, ubiquitous in the U.K., a nod to the British influence of 150 years of rule. This influence was also evident in the plugs, the driving on the left, and the unexpected number of British high-street shops — many of which I’ve never seen outside the U.K. We introduced the Stamms to Marks & Spencer, which we miss for underwear, school uniform basics and its glorious food hall. They weren’t particularly impressed, but to be fair it was a small branch and the food hall only stocked dried goods. They did like the flapjacks though (not a pancake).

Valletta itself was charming — rather Lisbon-esque with its hills, surrounded by a city wall and a ditch which I assume was once a moat. It’s full of town squares, narrow alleys and grand old buildings like the cathedral and courts, but mixed with modern touches too. It seemed to be a very liveable city. English is one of the standard languages, while Maltese includes bits of Italian — ‘grazie’ in the shops — some French — bonswa from bonsoir— and mostly Arabic, evident in street names and the sound of the language overall. We kept saying Malta has something of an identity crisis, or perhaps the influence of countless invasions over a millennium simply feels concentrated because the island is so tiny.

On Monday, we took the now-infamous boat trip to Gozo, an even smaller island about an hour and a half away. The boat carried around 80 passengers, and fortunately, it was large — otherwise I’m not convinced it would have stayed afloat. As we boarded, the stewards warned us that the outward journey would be “choppy” but the return calm. This turned out to be something of an understatement. I would liken the journey to a theme-park pirate ship that begins as fun but soon leads a few people to lose their lunch.

About half an hour in, a woman to our right did exactly that, triggering a wave of vomiting across the lower level — including yours truly. Luckily, they had just finished handing out sick bags. Seb and Clara were spared the worst as they had moved to the front, where they only had to contend with minor flooding and occasionally being thrown off their seats during bigger waves.

Never had we been happier to step onto dry land as we arrived in Gozo. The highlight there was a citadel atop a steep hill and some amazing views of a turquoise lagoon on the neighbouring tiny island of Comino, where we later swam in what I will describe as ‘slightly cold’ water. We’re used to the Atlantic in Portugal, so it was perfectly manageable. It was a beautifully pale, clear lagoon — an ideal setting for the last swim in the sea of the summer, only slightly ruined by a group of inconsiderate youths.

The journey back to Valletta was indeed calmer, even enjoyable, as we watched the sun set over the ancient city walls while sailing into the harbour.

Looking back on our four-day trip, we squeezed in a lot: Chad’s walking tour, the pub where Oliver Reed died while filming *Gladiator*, the gin bar Yard 32 selling over 200 gins (not even Steve could try them all), and Strait Street — once a duelling site for Knights, later nicknamed ‘the Gut’ and known for its bawdy nightlife among British and American sailors.

The most memorable parts of a holiday are not always about what you saw or what you ate, but what you talk about, and it’s often the jokes that are repeatedly made over the trip that I will find myself reminiscing about long after returning. We have a growing list of them now: Seb’s new Arabic name, Hassan; Agatha’s “you’re so mean, I don’t like you anymore” refrain from our Morocco trip; Chad’s attempts at Cockney rhyming slang and the “Big Ben, Parliament” joke in London; Malta’s running theme of 6-7; and mentions of “Sausage”, a fellow parent at the school in Lisbon who takes up far too much space in our collective minds.

Chad, Allison and Seb, I’ve noticed, always make a real effort to talk and have extended conversations with people they meet on trips — staff, waiters, other visitors — joking with them and generally being thoroughly nice human beings, or at least coming across that way (sorry, had to put in a joke there as it was getting way too sentimental!) But what I will remember most from these trips are our shared conversations and, best of all, the jokes. Long may our conversations and jokes continue while they are still in Lisbon and beyond then, too.

Alli Said:

Sebastian’s late-October half-term break gave us a week to scratch the itch for one more summer-esque getaway before the rain and cold settled in for the start of fall and winter. We factored in weather, affordability, and a place we’d never been—and landed on Malta. All I really knew about Malta was that it was a small island off the coast of Sicily and a spot we’d briefly considered for our family year abroad. It turns out to be far more than I ever imagined. So, with a bag of Maltesers in hand, we planned a quick escape and set off for four days in Malta with our friends, the Singhs.

Although Malta itself is quite small (the 5th smallest country in Europe), there’s much more to explore beyond the main island. When Malta starts to feel small, you can hop on a boat to Gozo. When you’ve seen Gozo, you can float over to the Three Cities. And when that feels familiar, you can head inland to the fortified old capital of M’dina. So, when I pictured this “small island off the coast of Sicily” and imagined a laid-back beach destination of sorts, I couldn’t have been more wrong, but in the best kind of way.

Whenever I travel somewhere new, I always catch myself trying to compare it to places I’ve been. I think, “this feels like…” or “this looks like…” But Malta completely broke that mold. I couldn’t place it in any familiar category. The language, the food, the terrain, the architecture, even the people—everything was so varied that it honestly felt like one of the most unique places I’ve ever visited.

Malta has two official languages: Maltese and English. But many people also speak Arabic, French, or even Italian. Despite the mix, English is what you’ll hear most often.

Random but related thought: I recently learned at the dentist that humans are actually evolving out of having wisdom teeth. I was floored. The dentist was even more surprised that Sebastian has all four of his, just sitting there waiting to erupt. Apparently, his teeth missed the evolutionary memo, which made me laugh because it totally fits his “old soul” persona! The Maltese language felt kind of like the evolution of wisdom teeth. It’s still there as one of Malta’s official languages, but from what we saw (and what locals explained to us), younger generations don’t really use it much anymore. It was like the language had slowly evolved out of everyday life in Malta—just like modern-day humans and their wisdom teeth!

My take on the food was that it felt like a mix of Italian, African, and Middle Eastern flavors, with a touch of British influence, and plenty of fresh fish. We were told that one of the local specialties was a flavorful rabbit stew, but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat the rabbit (Bourdain would definitely be disappointed in me, but good old Bugs and Peter would be grateful). I did, however, try the pastizzi (a flaky pastry stuffed with ricotta and one stuffed with mashed peas) and the ftira sandwich (which was soooo good with sun-dried tomato and sausage, and I have no clue what else), both traditional Maltese eats and both absolutely delicious. Prickly pear seems to be a popular flavor in Malta, but since I’m not one for fruity cocktails, I passed on the cocktail. And since it never showed up in any other form as an option, I’m still not entirely sure what I missed.

The terrain is also really hard for me to describe because it was so different from one view to the next. From one overlook on Gozo, I could see prickly pear cactus, low-lying vineyards, palm trees, and aloe plants—all in a single view. In another direction, the island opens up to sweeping ocean panoramas. And in yet another vista, the landscape looked dry and rugged, like a tumbleweed might roll by at any moment.

We arrived late on a Saturday night, and I couldn’t have been happier to wake up to one of my favorite ways to spend a Sunday: grabbing a local coffee and wandering through a huge open-air market in a little fishing village on a hot, sunny day. Once I got past the fresh fish section (which I could have done without seeing or smelling but appreciated later when I ordered seabass for lunch), the stalls seemed endless. There was everything from food and clothing to gifts and tourist tchotchkes. Vendors handed out samples of pistachio cream and Maltese sweets (Seb didn’t miss a single one). At one point, I even got pulled into a hair gadget demo—though I stayed strong and didn’t buy it. And of course, there was the cheap jewelry I have never been able to resist since waaaaay back to my NYC street fair days (shout out to my Mozzarepa NYC peeps, you know what I’m talking about!).
After plenty of tasting, strolling, and browsing—and after unsuccessfully trying to get Chad to buy new socks, as I always do—Seb left with a pair of cool aviator sunglasses (that Morocco taught him how to haggle for), and I left with a new thumb ring and a big smile on my face.

We followed the market with a long, lazy lunch on the water, complete with fresh seafood (that seabass I mentioned, yum), far too much wine for the morning of daylight savings, and great conversations (always a bit off color and erratic, just the way I like it). The teens ate and then ditched the adults to go wander around as one hour turned to three and amazingly, no one ever asked us to pay or to give up our waterfront table.

Later, we went in search of a swimming spot, only to learn that sandy beaches aren’t really a thing in central Malta. Locals, we were told, simply jump off their nearest dock when they want to cool off. So that’s exactly what Seb, Clara, and Sarah did, while I happily watched from the rocks as the sun began to set. Sebastian had high hopes that the Mediterranean would be warm, and while it was warmer-ish than the Atlantic, it was still pretty chilly. 
One of the couples we met in Portugal—and bonded with during a few tipsy karaoke nights featuring our questionable duets and an enthusiastic crash course on the brilliance of Kylie Minogue—had since moved to Malta, where one of them is from. We’d promised to visit when they left Portugal, and while they might not have realized it at the time, when the Stamms say we will come to visit, we actually mean it!

We met up for a fantastic dinner that ended with drinks at a kitschy Irish pub known for being the spot where actor Oliver Reed had his final drink. The place was packed with memorabilia, and the staff all wore shirts listing his “last order of drinks.” I get the tourist appeal, and I know he was a big deal, but honestly, I found the whole thing to be a little tacky. Commemorating someone’s last moments in that way just felt… wrong.

We stayed near Valletta, Malta’s capital, which has such a great vibe. Valletta is basically a walled city, beautifully preserved but also completely modern, and it also happens to be a UNESCO World Heritage site. Its narrow pedestrian streets wind through shops, museums, theaters, cafés, and bars, all coming to life at my favorite time of day, just as the sun sets. Because Malta is a cruise port, the daytime crowds can be a bit of a bummer, but once the ships pull out and the streets quiet down, the whole city feels different.

And, of course, no European city would be complete without a grand cathedral. One evening, we happened to stumble upon what looked like a high-society event there with guests in gowns and tuxedos entering the cathedral with knights in full armor lining the entrance. It felt surreal, like walking straight into a scene from a movie and watching from the behind the ropes. Speaking of movies, did you know scenes from Game of Thrones were filmed in Malta?

Malta is known for its handmade filigree and lace. While lace doilies aren’t really my thing, I loved wandering in and out of the shops and admiring all the intricate filigree jewelry and other pieces made from filigree, all delicate, detailed, and displayed in nearly every window. BIG love and gratitude to my two boys for noticing how many times I stopped to look but never bought anything for myself. Only to come home to a beautiful pair of filigree earrings they secretly bought for me for my birthday.

The next morning, we were up early for a full-day boat trip to see some of Malta’s surrounding islands and grottos. Before boarding, the crew warned us that the wind was making things a bit rough and double-checked that we still wanted to go. We should’ve taken that as our cue to turn back. I thought I’d seen rough waters before, but this was easily the worst I’ve ever been on. I don’t usually get seasick, and while I was still holding it together through the giant swells, people around me started dropping like flies and getting sick. There was nowhere to go and no way off the boat for over an hour. I tried staring at the horizon, pressing on random acupressure points, even imagining I was the wave. It was kind of funny at first, like being on a roller coaster—until it wasn’t.

Only one of us actually lost breakfast (not me), but we were all more than ready to get off that boat when we finally reached the first stop of Gozo. Thankfully, the little island made the journey mostly worth it. The town of Victoria is charming and ancient, full of narrow streets and local shops (and somehow, even a McDonald’s). At the top of the hill sits an old fortified medieval Citadel. We didn’t have much time to explore, but we wandered through town and made the climb up. We lost Chad to his love of reading every sign and historical plaque, while the rest of us checked out the shops and nearly blew off a no-railing lookout thanks to the wind.

We were all a little hesitant to get back on the boat, even with the crew’s reassurance that the winds were now in our favor and the ride back would be much smoother. Thankfully, they were right. With the wind at our backs, and a few stops to break things up, the return trip was a completely different story.

Our next stop after Gozo was the island of Comino, where we were able to swim in the famous Blue Lagoon. The water was absolutely freezing by my standards, but it was so clear and ridiculously blue that I couldn’t resist and just went for it. The final stretch of the ride back treated us to a gorgeous sunset, one of those golden, everything-is-lit-up kind of evenings. It was a peaceful finale to what started as a wild adventure.

And because no trip with Chad is ever complete without one, the next day was, of course, a walking tour to really get to know Malta. Usually, it’s a Rick Steves special, but this time we followed Lonely Planet’s lead. I’d love to say I soaked up every bit of history and storytelling, but truthfully, I spent most of the tour wandering off, admiring the architecture, peeking into shop windows, and scouting for street-fair-style stands. It was easy to get distracted by what I thought was a very cool Maltese architectural detail, the enclosed wooden balconies—each one unique and picturesque, even when a little run-down and in need of repair. As for the actual content of the tour, I did notice that Malta has been conquered more times than I could count, which certainly explains its fascinating blend of cultures and what we all felt was a bit of identity confusion.

Later that day, we took a gondola across the water to see “The Three Cities.” The Maltese gondolas look almost identical to the Venetian ones, but instead of costing 200 euros, they cost three. We explored one of the three cities and, proving just how small Malta and its surrounding islands really are, we literally ran into our friend walking out of their home renovation in progress. Dom gave us an impromptu tour and a peek at what will be their future rooftop view, which was absolutely stunning. She explained that the three peninsulas sit so close together that they’re kind of like fingers reaching into the harbor. We only visited the middle of the three, where our gondola dropped us off, and I have to say that the quiet cobblestone streets with lace or filigree in almost every window, the tiny pastry shop, and the kids running around the small, cozy town square all really fascinated me

On our last day, we headed inland to M’dina, an old fortified city whose gates appeared in Game of Thrones. The museum just inside the entrance leaned hard into that theme, and somehow the kids convinced us to visit the dungeons instead of the cathedral. The dads were delighted to “cathedral” in peace while the moms and kids wandered through a series of staged, archaic torture scenes. No one was actually scared, so of course, we had to add a few jump scares of our own. It was silly fun, and honestly, I find those moments to be precious and such a welcome break from the seriousness that life can be; I will never tire of them.

Finally, before heading to the airport, we caught the daily four o’clock gun salute overlooking the Grand Harbour. This is a mix of history and performance, complete with cannon fire echoing across the bay. It felt like the perfect, if not a little dramatic, farewell to Malta. 

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