St. Francis Square. Victoria.

I sit in one of the many cafe’s of the square reading a book I have bought in Italy and drinking a coffee ( with one teaspoon of sugar and a drop of milk, please).

Beehive’s coffee is my favourite coffee in town, tasty, inexpensive and served in a long, transparent glass, as all instant coffees should be served. The book I am reading is a book that less than two years ago was just about the biggest scandal in Europe; I picked it a month ago in Rome, choosing it among a stack of reasonably priced books in a bookshop of the Italian capital.

As I sip my coffee, taking a small break from the spellbinding pages before me, I notice a older man walking passed my table with a portable amplifier hanging from his shoulder.

The amplifier is new, almost trendy: small, black and fitted with a fashionable
strap that makes it look like one of those leather shoulder bags that accountants and traffic wardens used so much in the seventies and that now are out of fashion and can only be seen in movies or in old photographs.

Two men sitting beside me have notice the old man too and I can hear them expressing my same perplexity as to what the amplifier might be for.

With my eyes, I follow them man to a bench beside the barber shop, few meters away from where I am sitting, then I plunge back into the pages of the book. In a moment, the whole square disappears and its replaced by the world described in the book.

Few minutes later, I am back in St. Francis square and my attention is grabbed by a monotonous voice repeating an intelligible liturgy.

I turn to my right and see the man with the amplifier. He is sitting where I left him,
and microphone in his hand, he is reciting a long, uninterrupted array of prayers. The rosary, I suppose.

The amplifier is now resting on one of the yellow , plastic chairs of the café. Around the man, have a small group of a half dozen people have gathered to listen; one of which is a
young boy.

I look at them for a while, somehow enchanted by the way tradition and technology have found a way to meet each other half way, then, all of a sudden, I am distracted by an other murmur. Its tone resembles the litany that is coming from my right but the words are
clearly different and they keep repeating each other.

Beside my table, the two man, that together with me had noticed the arrival of the man with the amplifier, are gone. In their place are two ladies and two mugs of tea.

The new litany is coming from their mouths. They recite in unison, as one voice, looking down to the table with their hands intertwined. They too are obviously praying.

I look at my book and continue reading.

As every year, even this year, on the 23rd of September, Autumn has arrived. And while in the northern countries trees have started shedding their leaves and the streets has started filling with carpets of crunchy golden leaves, Gozo has barely changed.

At first glance we could almost say it’s still summer: the sun is still warm and the tourist still cram the morning ferries and eventually flock to Dwejra, Ramla, Marsalforn or Xlendi to have a glance of Gozo’s treasures and take away with them some of its of sea, sun or legends.

Yet, the changes are there. Autumn has crept beneath the dry surface of the land. The long evenings are gone, the wind that up to few weeks ago was the only relieve from the hot, humid summer nights ( that’s obviously beside the fan!), has now cooled and its howling noise can be heard gliding through the alleys.

On the 26th of September, the first rain in months has fallen; and it was not just a simple rain. It was an all day long thunderstorm with raindrops the size of pebbles and thunders as loud as the mighty fireworks of Sannat.

Then, today, after almost 10 days, the rain, has bear its fruits. Small, deeply green spiklets of grass have made their appearance all over the island. The dry land is slowly tingeing of green and coming to life. Soon, while the northern countries will loose all their colours and eventually fade to white, Gozo and its hills will turn into its lush green winter clothes and its hills will remember once again the ones of the Scottish highlands.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/v/cUt8ofCT73c&hl=en[/youtube]