When Mdina’s Silent City Got a Bit Too Loud

The Inadvertent Invasion of the Tourists

It was a sunny Tuesday morning in Mdina, the silent city, where the loudest sound you’d normally hear was the gentle flap of a pastizz wrapper escaping the clutches of a tourist. But today would be different. Zammit, the town’s unofficial “mayor” (he won a dart match and named himself), would ensure that much.

The day started ordinarily enough, with Zammit sauntering down Triq Villegaignon, a mischievous glint in his eye. His latest scheme? To pump lively festa tunes through hidden speakers as an “authentic immersive experience” for the visitors. He was sure it would attract more patrons to his friend’s restaurant, where the rabbit stew was so good it could make a statue cry.

The Culprits: Zammit & His Accomplice

Zammit’s partner-in-mischief was his childhood friend, Carmela, who ran said restaurant. When he told her the idea, she laughed the kind of laugh that only happens when a plan is either brilliant or utterly hopeless. “Uwejja, make sure it starts after the siesta hour,” she warned, knowing just how serious the Maltese took their midday naps.

“Imagine, Carm, the tourists will be so enchanted, they’ll think they stepped into a time machine back to the festa season,” Zammit declared, utterly convinced of his own genius.

The Bizarre Aftermath of the “Festa”

Mela, that’s not quite how things panned out. By the time the first tune hit the centuries-old bastions, tourists and locals alike were confused. Had they slept through three seasons and woken up during Santa Marija? People spilled out onto the streets from every ħanut and dar.

Zammit stood beaming on the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral as confusion reigned below him. A group of school children even started a spur-of-the-moment kollox-inclusive parade, followed by an old man and his reluctant cat. Soon, Zammit’s tracks attracted more than people—stray cats emerged as if summoned by the ‘cat whisperer’ himself, likely hoping for a festa treat.

All the hullabaloo didn’t go unnoticed by the Mdina police, who responded to the scene with the urgency of a pastizz running out at teatime. They traced the sounds back to what would be dubbed as “Zammit’s Speaker,” a contraption so ingeniously hidden that even the pigeons had missed it.

The Social Media Frenzy

The incident sparked a social media frenzy. Tourists and Maltese alike took to Insta and TikTok, recounting the day the Silent City found its voice. Zammit, a local legend, was now also an influencer, his face adorning memes across the web, hashtagged #ZammitFestaFiasco.

“One minute I was enjoying ħobż biż-żejt, and the next, it’s like Gozo’s Carnival came to town,” quipped an expat, adjusting his sunhat as if his ears still couldn’t believe the morning’s events.

The Unexpected Twist: Silence Isn’t Always Golden

Just when it seemed like the motivations behind the uproar would remain a mystery, Carmela stepped forward. With a gleam in her eye that outshone Zammit’s, she announced that today’s “entertainment” had doubled her lunch bookings. Turning the unintended cacophony into a stroke of business genius!

As a peace offering to the city’s frazzled nerves, she offered free rabbit stew to all—provided they made reservations, of course.

The day concluded with tourists gladly mingling with Mdina citizens, their initial annoyance forgotten as they bonded over the richness of Maltese culture… and the richness of Maltese stews. Zammit became a local hero, ironically, for disturbing the peace. And Carmela secured enough stew reservations to feed an army—or at least, the entirety of Valletta’s population.

But the biggest twist of all? The mayor of Mdina, who had slept through the morning’s festa thanks to a serious case of the post-pastizz snooze, awoke to find a city happier and more lively than he’d seen in years. He promptly scheduled a meeting with Zammit and Carmela to discuss “cultural innovations,” proving once and for all that sometimes in Malta, silence just isn’t golden.

Mela, That’s All Folks!

As the sun set behind the silent walls, which weren’t so silent after all, Zammit and Carmela sat back to reflect on the day’s events. Life was good, unpredictable, but good, on this tiny island in the Mediterranean.

“We’ll be telling our Neputijiet about this for years,” exclaimed Zammit, as they gleefully started planning their next adventure.

The situation might’ve been louder than usual, but it was still fantastically Maltese. And on that bombshell…the Times of Mela would like to remind you to always check your calendars, for every day in Mdina could turn into an unexpected festa!