As promised, I got that bus.

 

I walked to one of the tiny squares in The Village, a cemented over garden which does not allow dogs, unattended children or grass but accepts McDonalds takeaway boxes strewn all over. Two women were waiting and grumbling. ‘We’ve been waiting ten minutes already!’ one of them said. I looked at my watch. The bus was scheduled to arrive at 1.52pm. It did. Bang on time.

 

The number, printed on paper because the Arriva electronic system is simply not working, was different from what it should have been. The driver was young, smart and a total sweetheart. ‘The Airport?’ I said. ‘Yes’ he replied. ‘They rerouted this number so that we’d pick you up. I’m exhausted’. I wanted to hug him. He issued the wrong ticket by mistake, then, without any ado, reversed it and gave me another one, inputting the deleted ticket into his system.

 

The bus was mega comfortable and super cool. Spot on time, it went through all the stops. We alighted at the airport.

 

There I found a mad situation. 3 Transport Malta guys directing people to different buses. MIA have not bothered to put any shelters so thank you for that. I felt very sorry for everybody, including the tourists. Nobody was grumbling. The Transport Malta and Arriva guys and gals were doing a sterling job of directing everybody. ‘Why isn’t there a timetable board?’ I asked one of them. ‘We don’t even have one ourselves!’ he smiled at me. There was controlled mayhem but everybody was smiling.

 

I wanted to go to Valletta so I got on the one they sent me to. ‘You’re sure this goes to Valletta via San Vincenz, Marsa etc?’ I asked the driver. ‘Yes’ he replied, taking out the Arriva brochure and showing me calmly and nicely where we’d go. ‘It also goes through Zurrieq’. It shouldn’t really, but Arriva are consolidating trips because they don’t have enough buses or drivers to go ‘round. Meanwhile everybody was laughing out loud at the ‘bus which had stopped’. The mechanics were dismantling its back and trying to find out what was wrong with it.

 

So, mechanically speaking, we have mayhem and it is most definitely not the fault of the defecting drivers: the electronic system is not working, one bus caught fire in Msida and another bus stopped at MIA. The A/C units on the roofs are condensing and spewing black rivulets over the buses, dirtying them already. Wonderful.

 

We set off. I managed to get a whole tour of the southern villages: Zurrieq, Safi and was that Qrendi? Nice squares everybody but I don’t think I’ll want to be seeing them daily. The consolidation cost me 45 minutes as bizarrely, the driver had to go back to the airport and then go to Valletta.

 

Somewhere in the villages, the A/C stopped. An old woman, reeking of pee, sat in front of me. Jeez! Unfortunately the reform does not include making people wash or use deodorant. I went up to the driver: by now we were bestest friends in the universe. ‘Could you please switch on the A/C’ I asked. ‘I’m terribly sorry madam! So sorry! You’re absolutely correct. When I switched off the engine [in Zurrieq…waiting so that he would be absolutely on time according to the schedule] the A/C did not come back on.’ He showed me the console. He was right. He switched off the engine and back again. The A/C was up and freezing everybody’s socks off in a lovely way. I kissed the driver. Well I didn’t but honestly, I felt like it. He never even said ‘move back lady!’ once to me.

 

I sat and read Vogue and listened to music and generally conducted phone calls.

 

When we got to Valletta I was overwhelmed by the above scene: putirjal is no longer. No longer full of belching fume yellow shitey buses trying to kill commuters. No longer full of drivers who think they’re kings of the road and behave like it. Even that crap-hole called the Diana Bar was closed. Wonderful.

I could breathe so I breathed a lot, just to celebrate the fact that it was possible.

 

So, Arriva, you have arrived. Now fix those mechanical problems. Appreciate your good, new drivers. Treat them well. Until a few months ago, you had a nation against the old ones. Now you have a nation defending them. You’ll have us to contend with if you do not treat them well and appreciate their massive efforts and the hours they’re putting in. Pay them decently: 1000 euro a month is a friggin joke for spending all those hours on our roads. Trying to get away with not paying them extra (as you originally tried to do) is nothing short of heinous.

 

And we have not forgotten that you started to bully us over the Bisazza Street debacle and squeezed the government (that’s our money) for compensation. We hope you’re compensating the government (that’s us again) for your shortfalls, the electronic system which does not work, the old bus stop signs you have not taken down (which confuse old people), the stages and shelters you have not built, the short-sightedness of employment of old trouble-making drivers which disrupted the flow, the buses which seem to be mechanically bonkers.

 

This is not Wales. We tend to be a little hot-headed and if this massive promise of a good transport system fails we will take it, like we take everything, very seriously.

 

Meanwhile, well done for employing brilliant, young Maltese drivers. Thanks a bunch for that. Everything else is about making money. Now give us a good service.

 

And meanwhile...for the nostalgic and the gripers who want the yellow buses back