Malta came into my life during a strange moment in the world. It was the height of the coronavirus pandemic, and traveling had become almost impossible. I wanted to return to Europe, and one of the easiest ways to do that was by studying. So I made a practical decision that turned into something unforgettable. I moved to Malta for four months to take another English course. Yes, I had already studied English in England. But this language is one you never truly finish learning. There is always something new. So that became my excuse to move again.

Malta has a bright Mediterranean energy, mixed with a British influence that I genuinely enjoy. Everything works, but under the sun, by the sea, with live music in the background. At night, the golden stone walls glow, people walk through narrow streets, terraces fill up, and the island feels alive. Malta is small, but it carries intensity.

Mdina, the medieval city in the middle of the island, feels suspended in time. Silent streets, massive walls, ancient doors. Malta has something deeply cinematic about it. It is no coincidence that films like Gladiator, Troy, and scenes from Game of Thrones were shot there. And then there is Popeye Village, the original set built for the Popeye movie, which still stands and can be visited. Walking through it feels almost unreal.

But what I will never forget about Malta happened at sea. One day, we sailed with friends to the Blue Lagoon on a large sailboat. It was summer, the water was turquoise, everything was perfect. While we were swimming, someone stole the boat’s propeller. Just like that. We were left without an engine. What was supposed to be a two-hour return turned into more than five. We had to sail back using only the wind. It was night. The navigator was struggling with the sails, trying to control direction. The other girls were in shock. And I ended up at the helm.

I steered the boat for a while in the middle of the Mediterranean, in complete darkness. I had never sailed at night, and certainly not like that. There was no visible horizon. Just wind, water, and darkness. The boat was leaning heavily to one side, cutting through the sea at an angle. It felt unstable, unpredictable. We were scared. It was a shocking experience, the kind that awakens every sense at once. The sea feels bigger when you cannot see its limits. It was not comfortable. But it was real and we made it back.

And when we finally saw the lights of Malta in the distance, I understood something different about myself. Sometimes it is not about the absence of fear. It is about moving forward anyway. When the plan disappears, character shows up. The sea can test you, but it can also reveal what you are made of. Malta was not just a place where I studied English. It was adaptation during a global crisis. It was summer, history, cinema, Mediterranean light. It was learning in the classroom during the day and learning something much deeper at sea at night. It is a small island, but sometimes the smallest places leave the strongest lessons.