The Great Mdina Misadventure

A Tale of Tourists, Traditions, and Too Many Turnips

It was a day like any other in the ancient city of Mdina, with a busload of tourists teeming like ants in the silent city. Amongst them were Wistin and Leli, pretending to be guides. They knew two facts about Mdina and were armed with enough confidence to convince the unsuspecting visitors they were experts.

Turnips, the Unsung Heroes

The mischievous duo started their ‘tour’ by pointing out the iconic bastions, but it somehow devolved into a passionate exposition of how Mdina’s walls were originally built to protect an ancient turnip recipe, which, according to Wistin, was the heart and soul of Maltese cuisine. The tourists nodded, scribbling notes and snapping pictures as if the turnips were Mdina’s real gem.

“And right here, folks,” Leli announced with the flair of a showman, “is where the Great Turnip King of Malta was crowned, inaugurating the annual Turnip Festival!”

No one seemed to question why they couldn’t find “Turnip Festival” in their travel guides.

A Band of Unlikely Food Critics

The tour continued to a local eatery, where Leli insisted everyone try a ‘traditional’ plate of turnip stew. Of course, the Maltese kitchen was caught off guard, but that didn’t stop the chef, a quick-witted man named Baskal, from whipping up something passable — using leftover rabbit stew and hiding carrots cut to look like turnips.

“Mela, this turnip stew,” a Texan tourist exclaimed, “is kollox I hoped for. Tastes just like carrots, uwejja!”

The chef smirked from the kitchen, overhearing the praise of his improvised culinary creation.

The Sudden Wave of Turnip Tourism

By some stroke of fate, the tourists left Malta with tales of turnips filling their memories. In no time, blogs and vlogs documented the nonexistent ‘Turnip Trail’ of Mdina, with fabricated historical narratives and recipes cropping up across the internet. Soon, tourists flooded in, searching for the mysterious turnip treasures of Mdina.

When Life Gives You Turnips

The locals, initially bewildered, saw an opportunity. The Mdina council, with a newfound entrepreneurial spirit, declared a ‘Turnip Heritage Month’ and endorsed tours. Baskal’s ‘authentic’ turnip stew became the talk of the town, and souvenir shops started selling turnip-themed trinkets. Mdina experienced an economic boom unlike any other, becoming renowned not for its silent streets but for the boisterous buzz of delighted turnip tourists.

Turnip or Not to Turnip

The twist, however, came when a culture enthusiast from Gozo, alarmed by this turnip takeover, decided to investigate. She uncovered the truth behind Wistin and Leli’s culinary conundrum. Armed with historical facts, she launched a passionate social media crusade to clear Mdina’s name from the turnip tales tarnishing its true story. Her hashtag #TruthNotTurnips caught on like wildfire.

“Irreal! Turnips? In Mdina?” she posted, “It’s like finding fish in Ta’ Qali! Let’s bring back the real heritage.”

The movement grew, and the people were torn between the economic boon and historical accuracy. In the end, Mdina found a middle ground, offering both authentic and ‘turnip-tinted’ tours, satisfying purists and turnip-lovers alike. And Baskal, ever the entrepreneur, started selling his ‘Turnip Stew Starter Kits’ online, which suspiciously looked like chopped carrots sealed neatly in jars.

The Moral of the Mdina Misadventure

And so, the Great Mdina Misadventure came to a somewhat harmonious conclusion. Tourists could now enjoy a traditional ħobż biż-żejt after snacking on a ‘turnip’ pastry. Whether it was the sister island of Gozo or the bustling streets of Valletta, one thing was clear: when life gives you turnips—or tales of turnips—you turn it into a festival, or at the very least, a seasonal stew.

“Uwejja, whatever it brings tourists, Mela let’s go with it!” declared the ever-pragmatic Wistin, his eyes twinkling with the reflection of a carrot-turned-turnip joke turned gold.