By Albert Fenech
A short story about travel began when I was eight years old and my family decamped to go and live in London, England, as my father had rejoined the British Royal Air Force.
I remained in England for 15 years (going back to Malta for holidays quite frequently). I was mainly brought up (schooling etc) in the Peckham/Brixton areas of south London and therefore “graduated” with the tough veneer required to grow up, be schooled, and live in these areas.
A Short Story About Travel
I returned permanently to Malta in 1965, married, and have remained here ever since. However, the career posts I held in journalism, insurance, and senior HR Management occasioned much travel, together with numerous holidays in the UK, sea cruises, and frequent visits to Sicily and Italy and elsewhere in Europe.
So, I have decided to take a lighter look and recall some of my anecdotes over the years in various parts of the world. At least they bring back a smile to my weary face – even though they caused me great chagrin at the time in the past!
short story about travel
The Sheraton Hotel in Karachi Pakistan
KARACHI – Pakistan
A short story about travel It was March 1974 and I arrived at Karachi Airport at 3 am after a long and weary flight from Malta, via Rome and Cairo. I proceeded to the Sheraton in Karachi and slept for two hours, awoke, showered and shaved, and went down to breakfast to start a busy day’s work.
At the time I was HR Manager of a company of an electrical and mechanical contractor with a huge project in Benghazi in Libya on a new hospital – and this was a recruitment trip to engage engineers and x-ray welders from the Karachi Dockyard.
A short story about travel In the breakfast hall, I met our General Manager and Technical Manager who had arrived from Malta a day earlier. I ordered a glass of fresh orange juice and cereal.
The waiter brought my orange juice – a dead fly was floating on the surface. I called the waiter and pointed it out. He took a serviette, plucked the dead fly out of the glass, wiped the rim, and placed it in front of me again.
“No, no,” I said. “I want another glass and different juice”. He gave me a nasty look and waddled off with the glass into the kitchen and returned a few moments later. 
In the evening I returned to my hotel. My room was in shambles, my cases flung open, and clothes and belongings strewn all over the place. I went down to the lobby and asked for the Duty Manager. He was very apologetic, shrugged his shoulders, and said he could do nothing about the matter.
“The Security Police ordered to check your room and they turned it over”. This was the height of Palestinian hi-jackings and acts of terrorism.
“Why?” I asked. “I do not have a criminal record and have never been in trouble with the Police”. He shrugged his shoulders again.
“Sorry,” he said. “But I guess it’s your face – you have the features of a terrorist”.
The Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay, now Mumbai
BOMBAY (now MUMBAI) – India
A short story about travel A week later I was in then called Bombay on a continuation of the recruitment trip and stayed at the luxurious Taj Mahal Hotel.
The week passed quickly and I was at Bombay’s Santa Cruz Airport to begin our return trip to Malta. Security was strict with a long line of passengers to be checked. However, the line proceeded through with efficiency – until it came to my turn. A turbaned security official looked at me sternly.
“You stand aside and wait here please”. Other passengers proceeded forward. After the line had been cleared, the official returned.
“Open all your suitcases and lay everything out, one by one”. I cursed heavily. I had bought a lot of souvenirs and my cases were bulging. He inspected everything one by one, poking about with a stick. Satisfied, he waved me to pack everything again and proceed. I guess my “terrorist face” had played its trick again!
REGGIO CALABRIA – Italy
When I worked with, at the time, Malta’s leading insurance broking company from 1980 to 1986 we had a shares tie-up with the national freight shipping line, Sea Malta. This gave our company’s employees the right of free passage to places like Reggio Calabria and back, according to bunk availability on board.
Our accountant and great friend Martin Gauci and I planned a weekend trip to Reggio Calabria at the foot of Italy. The sea was calm and we had an excellent voyage.
Arriving at Reggio we walked off the ship and I expected to find a posse of Police and Customs officials. There was nobody there. “What do we do?” I asked Martin who had been there before.
“Nothing. We just walk out – nobody is ever here. This is Italy and they are probably all drinking coffee and eating pizza”.
We walked towards the gate and suddenly heard a lot of shouting. A Policeman ran towards us waving a truncheon and shouting “stop!” He pointed at me. He frisked me all over and thoroughly inspected the bag I was carrying with a few essentials before waving us on. Martin was thoroughly surprised.
“Strange,” he said. “They never stop anybody here. He must have deemed you looked suspicious”.
famous short stories about travel Wandering around the lanes and alleys of Marrakesh in Morocco
MARRAKESH – Morocco
It was May 2011 and I was in Marrakesh in Morocco, wandering along the lanes and alleyways, looking at all the shops. I came across a delightful little shop packed with herbs and spices, many of them medicinal. The aroma was scintillating. I strolled in and looked around. The shop attendant was a delightful and very pretty young woman who spoke excellent English and was as sweet as honey.
A hung notice said, “15-Minute Oil Massage to relax your joints”. There was a small curtained cubicle with a small bed. I looked at the beautiful girl and said “I will have the massage please”.
I entered the cubicle and stripped down to my underpants and waited.
Herbs and spices in Marrakesh and an ill-fated massage
After a few moments, the curtain was drawn back and an angry-looking aged woman entered. She was short, stocky, and powerful with bulging, muscled arms and legs, and reminded me of professional female wrestlers.
For the next 15 minutes, she made mincemeat out of me and my joints.
At least the massage did me good and my joints relaxed!
COZUMEL – Mexico
It was 1995 and I was on a cruise with my wife and daughter, visiting the Cayman Islands, Cozumel a Mexican island, and thence to Florida.
We wandered around the souvenir shops in Cozumel and I came across a beautiful ivory chess set which, however, was vastly overpriced. A short story about space travel The attendant eagerly approached us.
“I will buy this set but at half the price”.
Cozumel souvenir shop
He looked at me angrily and stomped his foot.
“You Jews are all the same” he shouted. “You want everything for free”.
I tried to interject but he would have none of it.
“Yes, you are all the same. All that matters to you is money, money, money. You always want to bargain and hustle”. And he carried on with a blistering tirade about having crucified Jesus Christ and Judas having sold his soul for money.
I let him blither on until he exhausted himself.
“Ok”, I said. “One, I am not Jewish. Two, I am a Christian and from Malta in the Mediterranean and three are we agreed on half price?”
I still have the set today and it is my pride and joy.
ALBERT FENECH
e/mail – salina46af@gmail.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jerome.fenech
MALTESE SAYING
“What he earns he eats”
Said a destitute person whose only income is to keep him sufficient in essential daily food.
