I spent the first years of my life in a tiny village on the southern tip of the island of Malta in the Mediterranean Sea. Wind permitting, arriving aircraft – mostly bringing tourists from northern Europe to Malta to enjoy the island’s mild climate – would fly along the eastern coast before drawing a graceful arc with the tip of their wings as they executed a 180 degree right-hand turn around the southern tip of the island to line up for arrival on runway 31.
As they came out of the bank, they would make landfall over St. George’s Bay. That’s when they would come into earshot. Whenever I heard an aircraft, I would dash out of the house and there, from the elevated position of our front porch, I would watch them slowly, gracefully and elegantly glide down behind a line of low hills that separated our village from the airport just a few kilometres away.
Of course, all this was many years ago and I am now an adult. But even so, some things never change and even today I still turn my head at the sound of an airplane.
So as you see, I have had a passion for aviation, flying and travel for as long as I can remember.