Today, I wanted to talk about what is probably Gozo’s most impressive (but not oldest) structure the cittadella. I now have family reading the blog so I’ll tone down the innuendo and double entendre (ha as if! sorry big sis). You can see the Cittadella from most parts of the island and when you stand on one of the highest points, which I did today (take your oxygen supply with ya) you can see the Med to the West and the East. It’s currently going through large-scale renovation and access is hampered as you will see, but certainly possible.
The cittadella or citadel as some would call it, has stood strong since the early 15th century, but there was a bronze age site there before the citadel was built, which was improved on by the Phoenicians and the Romans. The Ottomans raided the Cittadella in 1551 and captured virtually the whole population of Gozo, selling hem into slavery leaving just a few hundred behind. If the Crazy Brit had been there, and who’s to say he wasn’t (‘cos I do have my Tardis) I’d have given those scallywags what for.
Eventually, in poor condition, limping (sorry I’ve a sore foot) and exhausted (COPD) it was worth the climb (If only I had a new body) the view was outstanding and there were many old parts of the construction left as it was back 100s of years ago and lots of exhibits. A good thing for all you foodies is that there’s an excellent restaurant when you get up there. I refuse to give the name as none of the others I’ve mentioned have offered me a complimentary yet so be warned all you restaurateur’s if you don’t feed CB you won’t get a plug (hey I’m a starving writer I need some reward)
But I digress I mentioned some of the exhibits and one in particular I gave a wide berth was the old prison. Somewhere in a past life I think I’ve had a sample of being in the stocks, it’s no fun having rotten apples thrown at you and I still get that today as I walk down the street in my little village of (look there’s no chance of telling you unless you give me some money and then I’ll tell you its name).
I’m off for a quick Cisk, the local beer, it’s very good, then I’ll stagger down past lots of other interesting stuff into my car. Yes I know sister, no drinking and driving, (crap why do all these women keep telling me what to do), I’m 65 years old. OK I admit I’m just a little crazy, I’m in a world of my own in my little village of €s please, I also take £s or even $s so there’s no excuse if you really want to know the name of my village. But I’ve gotta tell ya if you haven’t worked that out by now I’m beginning to wonder who the crazy one is round here. I’ll tell you what I’ll let the cat out of the bag in my next post. Hmm that could turn out to be a VERY revealing post…stay tuned.
The Crazy Brit good-bye for now PEACE!