Each year on September 8, it has become customary for us to visit Gozo for a day out with family and friends and spend a relaxing day by the sea. We have been going to Xatt l-Aħmar for these past three years but due to strong winds and rough seas we had to opt for a more sheltered beach this year, so we decided to head for Daħlet Qorrot.

As soon as we got there we noticed that some good places had already been taken up; but we still managed to find a relatively good spot. We put up a small open tent next to one of the stone benches, close to a ladder. Even though there were a couple of other ladders for bathers, we still left ample space for them to be able to use it. There was even a small passage for them to be able to get to the ladder for a dip should they want to do so.

For the first hour or so the atmosphere was quite serene, save for a small incident when one of my friends was asked to remove his car from the entrance of one of the boathouses only to be replaced by the “owner’s” car.

As time went by we were slowly realising that we were being given queer looks by local swimmers. At one point a number of children decided to test the waters by jumping very close to our tent, splashing water all over our belongings and van which was parked close by. One of my relatives tried asking them politely to jump without splashing so much water. He was met by an infuriated teenager who in a sarcastic tone argued that they had been enjoying the place since they were five years old so we had no right to stop them from enjoying it. My relative reiterated that they had every right to enjoy it so long as they did not cause nuisance to others.

One of the parents who happened to overhear, started coaxing other children, parents and other Gozitan onlookers to jump from wherever they wanted and he purposely jumped right in front of our spot, splashing even more water onto our belongings. What followed was endless jumping and splashing of even more water by an increasing number of adults and children alike. We could hardly believe our eyes that they were actually conspiring against us and urging their own kids to keep pestering us. We called the police but although we were told that our report would be relayed to the Rabat police station, there was still no sign of them three hours later.

As time went by, every Gozitan in the bay was giving us the evil eye and busily gossiping about what had happened earlier to other Gozitans who arrived later in the afternoon. At one point we couldn’t stand it any longer and decided to pack and leave; we had small kids with us and we feared the worst.

While we were packing we were being directly and indirectly jeered by all the Gozitan onlookers who happened to be there. We managed to find our way out among insults from adults and children alike but the cherry on the cake arrived a little bit later. On our way to the ferry one of my relatives stopped for refuelling and realised her car had been vandalised – there were two deep scratches on either side.

We have been enjoying short and long stays in Gozo since we were children. We were so much in love with our sister island that we even got married there. However, what happened that day has unfortunately marred the reputation of at least this corner of Gozo for good. The people there are literally a shame to their fellow counterparts.

I would have thought that since Gozo relies so much on the Maltese tourist for its economy, we could have at least been treated with more respect and dignity. It’s no wonder low-cost airlines are fast becoming a much better option for the Maltese tourist. They truly are a blessing, they’re much cheaper and at least hosts treat you with respect.

Gozo? Never again!