They are selling our soul

I suppose the aircraft world can loosely be split up into two types of people – those who are always in a big rush to get up the minute the plane hits the tarmac, who think that by standing up and reaching towards the overhead compartment for their hand-luggage, they are somehow going to speed things up and get out of the airport faster than everybody else.

Whether you’re in Buġibba, Sliema, St Paul’s Bay, Marsaxlokk, Valletta or St Julian’s you will be met by the same paving, pedestrianisation, benches, planters and railings- Michela Spiteri

And people like me, who ignore the searching, sideways, insistent glances of the person in the window seat, preferring to exercise their right to remain seated, who wait until the plane empties before making a move.

Because ultimately, standing up doesn’t get you anywhere. What it does, is sandwich you between lots of like-minded, frustrated people who spend the next 10 or 15 minutes waiting for the seat-belt signs to switch off, the exit doors to open and the front and back queues to thin.

I tend to adopt the same modus operandi to other aspects of my existence, whether it’s watching movies or writing my column and am often seized by the same slow motion.

So when the Renzo Piano project was all the rage and everyone flocked to the National Musuem of Archaeology in droves, to check out the 3D plans, I took my time. And I was, and remain, strangely reluctant to write about the project.

I have numerous reservations and yet I find myself unusually reticent and unwilling to pass judgment. Despite being seized by that sinking sense of dread every single time I walk into Valletta, convinced that our capital city looks increasingly like the Drydocks and less like the city built by gentlemen for gentlemen, I’m reserving my judgment there. Perhaps, you could say I’m still waiting for the plane to land.

Perhaps, my circumspection has something to do with Piano himself, who has that wonderful quality I admire so much in people – the ability not to take oneself at all seriously and yet be able to command so much seriousness and respect, in that very Roberto Benigni sort of way.

However amazing the Parliament building might be, I still think it’s an anachronism of sorts, a historical perversion or revisionism if you like and would have been better suited to Ta’ Qali, as opposed to the first thing that hits you, (literally like a ton of bricks), in one of our few and far between coveted squares and spaces.

I am still hoping to fall in love with the end result. I just hope Valletta isn’t eventually relegated to my already long list of love-affairs that have turned sour and gone wrong.

But truthfully, I am far too concerned with the rest of the country’s predicament to worry about one isolated square, even if happens to be a rather important square, situate at the entrance to my favourite city in the world. A fortified baroque city which lies within its own city walls, which now will see a gaping hole ripped right through.

So, although I may be waiting for the dust to settle where Piano is concerned, the dust never really settles here, especially where I come from. And every time I read about the millions of euros that are about to be spent on yet another ‘beautifying’ project, I shudder.

There have been lots of these, many of them, incidentally, carried out under George Pullicino’s watch. I seem to recall he was the man behind St Anne’s Square, Bisazza Street, Qui-si-Sana Gardens, St George’s Square, to name a few.

If I googled his ministry I’m sure there are lots more where those came from. Before I venture any further, let me just state for the record that I actually like what they’ve done to Bisazza Street and there’s an unpublished article sitting inside my Mac which attests to this.

Yes, Bisazza Street definitely works. And the reason it does, is precisely because this is a bustling shopping area, the closest we get to a shopping high street, so the pedestrianisation, the modernity, the functionality – the whole formula that they are evidently so emotionally attached to, makes perfect sense.

But to replicate that formula everywhere is just bizarre. And this is precisely what is going on in Malta. There’s this profuse and profound lack of imagination which results in everything being paved, designed, decorated and street furnished in the same way so everything ends up looking like one of those computer generated, blue print brochure design projections, popular in the real estate world, where everything looks grey, sterile, artificial and ‘cardboardey’ at best.

And now the same fate awaits Spinola Bay, thanks to the ‘embellishment’ project due to begin anytime soon. Another one Pullicino managed to bag. It’s apparently piloted by Robert Fenech, the same architect responsible for Bisazza street. And from what I’ve read, seen and heard, by the time it’s all over, you may not be able to tell one from the other.

Removing the existing roundabout, the Sacred Heart statue and the ‘chaos and confusion’ synonymous with Spinola Bay only to replace it with that one-size-fits-all-conform-and- be-dull-formula, is a huge mistake. Sacrilege.

The charm of St Julian’s lies in its chaos. It’s a fishing town and tourists and locals alike do not want to see sterile, unobtrusive trees, piddly water fountains, the same pedestrianisation and wooden benches that are now ubiquitous features in all our squares, not to mention a 400-vehicle car park.

We are heading towards a situation where a single architectural formula is adhered to and imposed willy nilly upon every location.

Whether you’re in Buġibba, Sliema, St Paul’s Bay, Marsaxlokk, Valletta or St Julian’s you will be met by the same paving, pedestrianisation, ben-ches, planters and railings, as they strip away the idiosyncratic characteristics of our towns, cities and villages and slowly sell our soul.