If I had an hour left to live I’d want to spend it in Valetta

Good news! Lonely Planet, the backpacker’s bible, has oted Valetta, Malta’s capital city, as its fifth best city on the planet. There is a report to this effect here, which also usefully lists the other cities given the thumbs-up by Lonely Planet. 

Valetta is indeed a most wonderful place. The discerning have known this for some time. Sir Walter Scott visited it back in the 19th century and described it as “this dream of a city”. It is in some ways the perfect Renaissance city, planned as it was in the aftermath of the Great Siege of 1565, and thus the first city in Europe to be laid out on a grid plan. The original idea was the flatten the site, but this proved too hard, besides which, there was a fear the Turks might be back for a second round: thus Valetta boasts stunning streetscapes such as Old Bakery Street, which resembles the contours of a big dipper, and St John’s Street, which gets so steep that it turns to steps.

Valetta contains some truly astounding buildings, all of which rely for their impact on their beauty rather than their size. The interior of the Co-Cathedral is one of the wonders of the world, particularly after its recent restoration. The Anglican Cathedral, built at the instigation of good Queen Adelaide, is an architectural wonder, the work of the little known genius William Scamp.

The Neptune Courtyard in the Grand Master’s Palace is a lovely green space, created by one of the British Governor’s wives. The façade of the Auberge de Castille is a Baroque delight that brings to mind palaces as far afield as Antwerp and Mexico City. And all around, at the end of every street is the dazzling sea.

If there were only time to visit one last place for me, then it would be Valetta (a name no one calls it in Malta, by the way; to the Maltese it is simply “the City”). If I had an hour left to live, I would do the following. I would survey the Grand Harbour from the Upper Barracca Gardens. I would have a Kinnie in the Lower Barracca Gardens, in the shade of the Doric Temple dedicated to the memory of Captain Alexander Ball.

I would have a doughnut at Blackley’s and pastizzi at Café de la Reine next to the statue of Queen Victoria, where the pigeon keeps constant guard on her head. Then I would go to church to render my soul to God, and die happy. But which church? There are so many. Our Lady of the Pillar, perhaps? Our Lady of Liesse (which means of Happiness)? Our Lady of Victories? The Flight into Egypt, down by the water’s edge? Or the lovely Ta Giezu in St John’s street? So many churches, so little time……