It's May Day!

Europe's Labor Day. Which means everything will be closed, apart from maybe a few restaurants and the odd caf�. If the weather stays nice, maybe we'll go out to Caf� Guido later, sit in the sun and watch the world go by. Or maybe we'll just stay here. I spent the best part of yesterday afternoon at one grocery store after another, so the house is stocked.

Although, I just noticed that we're out of orange juice. If that's the worst thing I forgot, we'll be just fine. I'll just have to drink that prosecco I bought at Galli straight.

The Italians will be having picnics today, or large family dinners. They'll watch live variety shows and recorded variety shows, live and recorded celebratory musical specials, and game shows with large breasted women in tiny little outfits who stand around smiling a lot and giving the occasional jiggle-- in short, all the things that normally pass for television entertainment in this country. They'll probably take their evening passegiata as per usual. The fact that everything is closed does not put a true Italian off their passegiata, which makes a table outside at Café Guido a prime piece of people-watching real estate 365 days a year. Not that you'd want to sit outside for all those days, in the cold and the snow and the rain. But you could. And the weather has been lovely lately. I'll have to try and talk Elvis into it later on.

Elvis is still sleeping. Later on, he'll get up and play solitaire on his computer for hours on end. That's his ideal way to spend Labor Day. Or any day, come to think of it.

Aaahh, Gozo.

Gozo is a truly beautiful place.

It is the second largest island in Malta, behind the island of Malta itself. Which means it's still pretty damn small, only 14 km at its widest point. There's not much to do in Gozo, except relax. You can scuba dive-- some of the best in the world, apparently-- although since neither I nor anyone else among us was certified, that idea was pretty much moot. You can swim, but it was too cold, unfortunately. I actually was up for it, but all the other wimps declined. Our hotel was on the top of a cliff by the sea, but not near a beach, so that shot that idea.

What you can do on Gozo is tour the island, which we did. Go for walks, which Elvis and I did. And relax.

Above all, relax.

Which we did.

There were four of us on this trip, by the way. Maggie and Mr. VCR, Elvis and myself.

International flights land at Malta's airport. To get to Gozo, you can either take the ferry, or take a ten minute helicopter flight. We did the latter. I've never been on a helicopter before, so I was excited. Elvis and Maggie, who get motion sickness, were worried. Actually, Maggie was frightened and worried, but I bought Dramamine before we left Milan for them, and we dosed her with that and a couple of glasses of white wine before our flight.

She needn't have worried. The helicopter, to my mind at least, was disappointing. I had anticipated feeling important, a VIP, as the helicopter whisked us away to our romantic island hideaway. I expected to feel rakish, flirting with a bit of gentle danger. I had envisioned ducking down underneath the blades, running crouched over to the 'copter, clutching my wide-brimmed straw hat to keep it from being blown away. Never mind that I rarely wear hats, although I did contemplate purchasing one just for this occasion. Good thing I didn't bother.

The helicopter was huge, with a roll-away staircase like the ones they use on airplanes when you have to board from the tarmac instead of directly from the gate. And I've been on smaller airplanes. The helicopter had 26 seats! A pilot and a co-pilot! A flight attendant! I did have to duck down, at the top of the stairs, to get through the door, but once inside I could stand freely. Even Elvis could stand upright, and he's six feet tall. And the rotors didn't start rotating until after we'd all fastened our seatbelts and listened to the safety announcements.

Not what I had in mind at all.

But the flight was smooth, and the helicopter chugged along rather slowly so we could enjoy the stunning views.

And they were stunning. Did I mention that Gozo is Gorgeous?

Our hotel was L'Imgarr, near Mgarr Harbour. This is not to be confused with Mgarr on Malta. The capital of Gozo is Victoria, aka Rabat, depending on which language you are speaking. This is not to be confused with the Rabat on Malta. Similarly, Ramla Bay on Gozo, which has an orange-red beach and is unbelievably beautiful, is not to be confused with Ramla Bay on the Island of Malta. Saint Paul's Shipwreck Church in Valetta should not be confused with Saint Paul's Shipwreck Church in St. Paul's Bay. And so forth.

Malta, as Elvis pointed out, is a small country. There are, therefore, a small, finite amount of things that need to be titled. Couldn't they have come up with more and different names for things? It's hardly as if they ran out, is it? Laziness, that's what I call it.

Mind you, it's pretty damn easy to be lazy on Gozo.

Malta, by the way, is bilingual; English and Maltese. Plus Italian, left over from the Knights of Malta and perpetuated by Malta's proximity to Sicily. In fact, it takes ninety minutes to get to Sicily.

Which is less time than it takes to get to Rabat, but I'll get to that later.

To be continued....

Sorry Candy: I know that annoys you, but at least you won't have to wait until next season for the stunning conclusion.