When the Karozzin Became a Time Machine

The Start of Something.. Odd

One typical sunny day in the heart of Valletta, where the tourists swarm like bees to a ħobż biż-żejt, a curious happenstance unfolded that would befuddle even the sharpest of minds. Down the quaint Republic Street, past the Bibliotheca and the not-so-subtly-parked double-parked cars, sat an unassuming karozzin driver by the name of Wistin. This character was notorious for his meticulous care of his horse-iswed as pitch, and for embellishing tales of his ancestor’s heroics in the Great Siege.

A Turn of the Wheel

His karozzin, while outwardly a typical horse-drawn carriage ornamented with lavish fringes, held a peculiarity known only to Wistin – the left rear wheel creaked in Morse, or so he claimed. One scorching afternoon, as a bumbling group of tourists approached, their leader, a lady with a map permanently fixed to her face, blurted out, “Can this thing go any faster?” To which Wistin, with a smug grin, jested, “Hold onto your camera straps, we’re about to break the sound barrier.” Little did they know, the jest harbored a kernel of truth.

Time Travelling Tourists

With a flick of the reins and a creak of the wheel, the karozzin and its passengers were Whooshed away. It wasn’t the breeze from the sea whistling past their ears that left them gawking, it was the sudden appearance of Mdina’s medieval bastions right before their eyes, replacing Valletta’s Baroque architecture in a blink.

Mysterious Mdina

“Uwejja, what kind of sorcery is this?!” exclaimed one flabbergasted sightseer as they clutched onto their oversized sun hat.

There they were, in the middle of Mdina’s cobblestone streets, surrounded by looming limestone walls and suspiciously modern-looking tourists wielding selfie sticks. Before the novelty wore off, Wistin snapped the reins once more, and with another creak and a pop, they were gone.

The Plot Kollox Thickens

This time, they found themselves amidst a bustling festa in Gozo, fireworks painting the night sky with triumphant colors, and the smell of rabbit stew wafting through the air. Stunned by the inexplicable excursion through time and Maltese culture, the tourists began to suspect that this wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill karozzin ride. In the excitement, pastizzi were offered around like peace treaties, assuredly calming the nerves of the disoriented group.

The Revelation in Gozo

In a moment of calm between the bright festa flashes, Wistin confided in them. “This is the karozzin of my great-great-whatever grandfather,” he beamed, wearing pride like a badge. “It has been passed down through generations with a legend that on a particular sun-glare kind of day, it could travel through time. And today,” he chuckled, “you’ve made history, without even buying the overpriced souvenirs.”

Home Sweet Valletta

With the hellos and goodbyes of the feasting locals still hanging in the air, Wistin declared it was time to head back. The wheel creaked a familiar Morse tune, and as if sucked through a straw, the carriage and its awe-stricken occupants returned to the bustling streets of Valletta. The tourists disembarked, each a little heavier with festa sweets and an incredible tale no one would believe.

Fact or Fable?

“This karozzin isn’t just a ride, it’s an adventure,” Wistin boasted, as he handed out business cards promising time-travel trips – each conveniently coinciding with major historical festivities across Malta and Gozo.

Whether Wistin’s karozzin was truly a chariot between ages, or if it was all a sunstroke-induced mirage, remains a heated topic among the local gossip circles. But let it not be said that in Malta, a small island in the middle of the sea, there’s no room for magic, or the occasional mysterious creaking wheel.

Engage with Us

Have you ever experienced a magical moment in Malta? Share your stories, photos, or maybe even your own time-traveling mishaps with us on social media using #TimesOfMela and get featured on our mystic mishap bulletin!

Mela friends, whether ye be locals or tourists, keep your eyes peeled for the wheels that whisper tales of time, and perhaps, just perhaps, you’ll take more than just memories from the islands of knights and rabbit stew.