Travel and Verse

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Tag: Europe

Missions in Malta: the Tanis Family

May 16, 2024 / / 2 Comments

Travel Journal: 140

A city on a rock. Desolate in parts, and pristine in others, Malta lies at the crossroads of the Mediterranean Sea. It’s lost someplace between Tunisia to the west, Sicily to the north, and a stone’s throw from Libya in the south. It’s tiny in space and huge in population. Malta holds the number five spot for highest population density in the world (most populated in Europe). It can feel like a city-state. Think of Singapore or even Washington D.C. Apartments rise because there is nowhere to go but up. Mr. Bean-sized cars fly from lane to lane, vying for position (walking the streets is similar). And though there’s barely room to breathe, Malta still has trees and open space. It’s a paradox. Rough and calm, loud but silent, baren and beautiful, green and tan, stone and water: it’s everything at once.

Malta feels like the middle of nowhere.

But it’s not nowhere.

It’s everywhere.

And by that I mean there’s a little bit of every place embedded into Malta. The language is a mix of Arabic, Italian, Sicilian, and even a touch of English. And that’s due to British governance which lasted 150 years, ending in 1964. Sound like a mixed bag? You’d be right.

Though wars and regime changes and geopolitical struggles may adversely affect people, it does wonders for the food. I say that only with a little tongue and cheek. Maltese food reflects this: Turkish kebab, Italian pizza, British meat pies, and traditional Maltese fried rabbit. You can get Greek Mezza right after a first course of Octopus Stew with a side of spaghetti (don’t ask).

And it is at this crossroads where we met Luke and Anna Tanis and their children. My wife and I had the privilege to visit and get a little taste of the Gospel work in Malta. They minister here at a church in Gzira, close to the capital of Valetta. Their energy is infectious. You can feel the love they have for the people of Malta and the love they have for the God who made this wild and wonderful place. In a place where nearly 100% of the churches are Catholic, they minister at one of only three or four Baptist churches. And their ministry looks a lot like the food scene.

There’s a map on the wall at Bible Baptist Church with pins pointing to origins. Sunday sermon notes are available in multiple languages. It seems they come from all over to live in Malta. And it’s here that Luke and Anna show them the love of Christ.

Anthony Bourdain said once that, “… food, culture, people and landscape are all absolutely inseparable.” The Tanis family has set down roots into a rocky, diverse place to bring the Good News of Christ to people from all over the world, right at their fingertips.

 

anthony forrest

Unexpected Stockholm

October 17, 2022 / / 0 Comments

Travel Journal, 126

Cobbled stone streets flow through all of the various European cities around this great European continent. But none so clean as Stockholm. I think this was probably the most surprising aspect of Stockholm. It may sound silly, but enjoying this capital of Sweden was a mistake. We simply did not intend to love it there. It was, by far, one of the best traveling accidents we’ve ever made.

We hadn’t left the US in months and we wanted a getaway. So we looked at the list of locations on our “to-be-traveled” list and picked one. We knew nothing of Sweden. But off we went. The 8-hour flight passed with surprising ease when our plane cut through the clouds above Stockholm. The airport lies 30 km (16 miles) from the city center. The surrounding trees near the rural airport made us feel like we were at home in an Autumn-blasted Minnesota.

(A point of gratitude: travel restrictions are completely lifted in most of the world. Sweden is no exception. We crossed into the country needing no extra paperwork or testing. Back to normal!)

A 30-minute bus ride landed us in the center of the city. Like most cities, some parts are new and others old. The train and bus depot is located in the newer section of town. But Sweden is an old place. And even the new parts feel old-world—especially since it saw no harms of WWII.

The whole city is walkable, and soon we found our hotel in the old town of Gamla Stan. And here the surprises continued. Who knew that a place like Stockholm would smell like cinnamon? On nearly every corner, sellers of cinnamon buns and coffee tempt the traveler and local alike. Stopping for a quick bite and coffee is an important part of their culture, called Fika—or, coffee break. They take time to relax and have a break two, or three times a day. And these cinnamon buns are at the center of the Fika tradition. In fact, we landed on National Cinnamon Bun Day. A coincidence? I call it fate.

Stockholm is a harbor town on the Baltic Sea. Its lands are islands and peninsulas and mainlands, connected by over 50 bridges. It’s a paradise for all who love museums, cafes, restaurants, shopping, entertainment, parks, water, outdoor space, and old architecture. What’s more, during a chilly October, the Fall colors paint the place with oranges, and reds, and yellows, and all the other Fall-like tones.

Sound perfect?

It is.

Above all, though, Stockholm is clean. It has all the old-world charms of Amsterdam with its history and cobble stones, and the romantic flair of Paris with its iconic sites and cafes. But it does not have the trash or smells of either of those places. Stockholm is clean, safe, and almost completely free of homeless. It’s the best of Europe.

One of our favorite pastimes in any European city is to simply walk the cobblestone streets. And there is no better place to do so than Stockholm.

You could eat off the cobble stones here. They lead to royal palaces, restaurants, and churches. They bring life to this old place, like so many arteries carrying blood.

It mesmerizes the traveler.

I’m pumped deeper into these stones and buildings and waterways and statues until I’m lost, lost, lost, or, at least, don’t want to go home.

But I must.

And though it has only been a few days, I feel that in leaving now, when I don’t want to, I’m gettin’ while we’re gettin’ is good.

If we had stayed longer, would we have regretted it? (I doubt it).

Maybe we would grow to hate it here. (I doubly doubt it).

But maybe it’s best to leave early, when I don’t want to leave. There was no time to wonder, “what next?” We left Stockholm wanting more. And that’s a great way to live. It’s certainly better than leaving, wanting less.

If you ever have the chance to go to Stockholm, go to Stockholm.

That is, of course, unless you despise happy places that smell like cinnamon.

 

anthony forrest

Travel Journal, 33

October 10, 2019 / / 1 Comment

Foreign Bathroom Series, Chapter 5: Dutch Hostel

Names have been modified to protect the innocent (also, embarrassed).

 

The restroom situation at a hostel is always a gamble. One friend of mine told me of a trip to Singapore involving a hostel with a mixed gender toilet and shower room. He was mortified. Then again, other countries and places offer great privacy and comfort. Think of it as toilet roulette.

I was traveling with a dear friend. Let’s call him JJ. We met up at Schiphol airport in Amsterdam to do a rapid-fire, two-day, whirlwind, nonstop, café to café, coffee tour of the area. In under 18 hours, we drank cappuccino after cappuccino in western Europe, covering 45 miles of the Netherlands. Our coffee excursion included the best cafes in the Netherlands, culminating in our seventh coffee bar in the hip college town of Utrecht. We drank and talked for hours, bouncing from hip spot to cobblestone street and onto the next slinger of the black juice of life. Until finally, our hearts could no longer handle anymore caffeine and our bladders howled with the strain of frequent emptying.

We had decided on a hostel for the night. And after some clumsy navigational errors, we stepped into a tight townhome with a classic youth hostel vibe. Guitars hung on the walls, collegiate hipsters lounged with oversized headphones, and the whole placed smelled of marijuana. We arranged to stay the night in one of the many bunk beds on the top floor. We climbed and climbed. With six (!) sets of spiral stairs now underneath us, I poked around and found our room. It was a sprawling empty area with no less than twenty bunks. Each bunk was the classic metal-frame bed with thin plastic mattresses, half of them permanently stained. It would have to do—although JJ was on the fence. With no bag lockers, we would have to take our bags with us to dinner—unless we wanted to graciously donate our belongings to a patchouli-smelling backpacker.

On our way out, we saw the bathroom. It was a single door labeled toilets and showers. Setting his bag on the floor, JJ said, “I’m just going to use the restroom quick.”

He pushed the door open.

“Oh,” he balked with a start, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay! No worries,” said a clearly female voice from within the bathroom.

JJ closed the door, turned his beet-red face to me and said, “there’s a girl in there. And she’s not dressed.”

Group restroom. Group toilets. Group shower. Zero privacy. This is not uncommon in Europe.

That was the proverbial straw on the proverbial camel’s back. We collected a refund on our night and took the train back to Amsterdam. Hotels have nicer bathrooms anyway.

anthony forrest

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