The best way to arrive in Malta is by sea. Ahead, the fortified harbour of Vittoriosa lies low on the horizon like a great ship at anchor. The cream limestone ramparts - looking disconcertingly monochrome from out at sea - start to glow yellow as the fierce Mediterranean sun burnishes the battlements and gun positions of this small, historic fortress, writes Mary Russell
The Maltese are a cheery people with a welcoming smile at the ready and it may be this attitude that has helped them survive with their identity intact, for just about everyone has cast an envious eye in their direction. The Phoenicians sailed in around 700 BC with the Greeks and the Romans on their heels. The Arabs arrived in 850 AD. After them, in 1530, came Crusader Knights who, in 1565, repulsed the powerful Ottomans thus saving Europe, as they felt, from a faith than death.
It was the Knights of St John who strengthened the fortress, making Malta secure from further attack. And so it remained until 1798 when Napoleon's navy, en route for the British stronghold in Egypt, sailed over the horizon to occupy the islands. It was a short-lived occupation, however. Two years later, the British navy arrived and in 1815, Malta was declared a crown colony.
Perhaps the most immediately visible signs of these comings and goings are that left by the British. Post-boxes and telephone kiosks are red. The Duke of Windsor pub is in one street while the Suffolk Arms is in another. The Buckingham Garage repairs cars and from among the audience at an outdoor performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream, English accents rang out loud and clear. Shakespeare, after all, belongs to them.
It is on record that the young Princess Elizabeth was happiest here with her newly-wed naval prince in the days before the cares of the monarchy descended on her. Perhaps because of this, the royal couple will shortly drop in on Malta for a private visit, though in a place where flags, fireworks and the firing of cannon are everyday occurrences, their arrival is likely to be more public than private.
Other trace elements of the past lie across the linguistic landscape like layers of a half-forgotten memory. The one-time presence of the Maghrebi Arabs is present in the everyday language of the islands, coming into focus like a slowly developing photographic negative. A common greeting in Maltese is merhiba (marhaba in Arabic). A must-see on the tourist trail is the lovely old walled town of Mdina with its cool, narrow streets, its whitewashed buildings graced by crimson geraniums. Medina, in Arabic, means walled town. The phrase, "How are you?" - kif inti - has its roots in the Arabic qaef inti.
Independence from British rule came in 1964 - a move opposed by Dom Mintoff who thought the common good could best be served by Malta's integration into Britain. Mintoff - remember him? Noisy little fellow in big glasses, a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford and dedicated to the Labour Party which he founded and led - doubling, on and off, as Prime Minister between 1955 and 1984.
He is remembered fondly enough in Valetta's local Labour Club where, like Labour clubs the world over, men sit at formica tables drinking beer at 11am while loud music that no one listens to pounds out from a speaker over the bar. And the coffee is foul.
Joe, who has worked for the New York Sanitation Department for 30 years, is home on holiday and, like many expats, harks back to the good old days: "Dom Mintoff got us education and hospitals. We fought in the war but no one helped us get back on our feet so he turned to America but there, everything has to go through Congress and that takes time, so he went to Libya and Gadafy helped us. Then when the others took over, they stole all the money he had invested." He shakes his head: "Mintoff was too big for Malta."
Part of the money Mintoff's government accrued came when, in 1979, annoyed that the British turned down his proposal for integration, he nationalised the docks and then charged the Royal Navy for their use.
Mintoff is now 93 and my attempt to talk to him over the phone took on Beckettian undertones when unable to understand Maltese, I enquired if he would be good enough to switch to English and he, being deaf, couldn't hear me.
" You won't get anything out of him, " the Labour Party's spokesperson on international affairs, Joe Mifsud, told me. "He's obsessed with the idea that the CIA are after him." What self-respecting socialist could think otherwise?