Triq to Victory: The Tale of a Gozitan Snail Racing Champion

Unlikely Heroes

It was a sunny afternoon in Gozo, a time when the only things stirring were the gentle waves at Xlendi Bay and the notorious traffic at Victoria’s It-Tokk. But that was all about to change, as a crowd gathered for the most anticipated sporting event of the year—the Annual Maltese Snail Racing Championship, a sport that, mind you, generates more excitement than a plate of pastizzi at a parish feast.

Among the competitors, there was a snail with more ambition than a Maltese Mamma at a wedding buffet. His name was Ċikku, a common name for a distinctly uncommon gastropod. Legend has it that Ċikku was no ordinary snail; his shell was painted the colors of the Maltese flag, and locals believed he had the blessing of the Knights of St. John from a mysterious encounter in the silent city of Mdina.

Underdog to Overachiever

The reigning champion, a Sliema snail named Spartakus, sneered at the Gozitan newcomer. “Uwejja, you think you got what it takes, ibni?” he’d say, leaving a glistening trail of arrogance behind him.

But Ċikku wasn’t without his supporters, led by his trainer, Tarcisio, a burly Gozitan with a mustache as thick as ħobż biż-żejt. “Kollox hu possibli b’xi determination,” Tarcisio would say, flipping his cap backwards in true Maltese-underdog-movie fashion.

The Race

The day of the race, the air was thick with tension and the scent of rabbit stew from a nearby festa. The starting line was drawn outside the gates of Fort St. Angelo, a place of many historic standoffs, but none as slimy as this.

“Get set… Go slow!” the announcer bellowed, and the snails lurched forward at a pace that made molasses look like a Porsche.

At the halfway mark, Spartakus was leading, his shell shining brighter than the dome of Mosta. But then came the plot twist, for Ċikku, employing a technique never seen before, began gyrating his shell. The crowd erupted in disbelief as the gyroscopic force propelled him forward with an incredible burst of speed—or what counts as speed in snail racing.

Twists and Turns

Just as victory seemed assured for the Gozitan wonder, Spartakus launched a sneaky counter-attack. He deftly deposited a trail of sea salt, hoping to dehydrate his rival. But he had underestimated Ċikku’s resilience and his deep affinity with the Maltese limestone.

“Mela, you think you can outsmart me? Ħa narawk!” yelled Ċikku, motoring ahead.

But the true turning point came when a celebrity judge, enjoying a sneaky ftira on the sidelines, accidentally dropped a crumb on the track. Spartakus, distracted by the scrumptious morsel, lost his slimy streamline and veered off course.

A Champion is Crowned

Witnessed by expats, locals, and bemused tourists, Ċikku crossed the finish line in record time. They say that the cheers reverberated all the way to the Blue Grotto, causing tourists’ cameras to blur with emotion (or possibly just sea spray).

Epilogue

When asked in a post-race interview how he felt, Ċikku, with a twinkle in his eyes, replied:

“It’s not about the speed, but the grit and glory. I may be slow, but in Malta, even snails can dream big!”

Tarcisio, wiping a tear of pride from his eye, was already thinking of the next challenge. “Next year, we’ll aim for something no Maltese snail has ever done before,” he said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. “We’ll conquer the entire Triq tal-Barrani, from the airport to Tarxien roundabout… non-stop!”

The Times of Mela had found a new national hero. The island buzzed with tales of Ċikku’s victory, and somewhere in the heart of all the humor and joy, the spirit of Malta shone as bright and steady as the gaze of the Manoel Island ducks watching over its harbors. It just goes to show, whether in sport or in life, in Malta, anything can happen—and usually does.