My Adventure on a Maltese Bus

I'm changing jobs. (Exciting times, but not the topic of this article. I'll post details when I start next week!)

My new offices have breathtaking views of the Tal-Pietà marina. But parking in that area is hard to come by.

I'm environmentally conscious, but I've always driven to work. This new parking situation made me ask, is there a better alternative? A friend suggested the bus. Ħal Lija to Tal-Pietà should be manageable, right? I decide on a trial run, one week before I start my new job.

It almost feels like an act of rebellion, to take the bus to work, but if a sustainability professional doesn't do it, who will? I download the Tallinja app. Check that I have enough credit (I do – €18.75, left over from a failed attempt five years ago). I look up the route: bus number 54 stops close to my new office. I pack a banana for the journey, fill up a sturdy water bottle, charge my phone (2022 priorities), and choose a book (Lucy Siegle's Turning the Tide on Plastic). I need a bigger handbag.

I wear trainers, walk my son to school, then, guided by the Tallinja app, walk another two minutes to the nearest bus stop. There's a nice shelter, with space to sit. The sunny, yet cool weather makes it quite pleasant.

I'm nervous, though. I haven't used the bus routinely since I was 20. That's nearly two decades ago. I remember orange paper tickets marked 15ċ, which I kept as bookmarks. The cold draft seeping in through windows that wouldn't shut properly is now a fond memory – nostalgia does funny things. Today's worry is that I am at the wrong bus stop, or that I won't be able to pay with my Tallinja card.

The bus should arrive at 08:25. It's 08:23. I ask a young student waiting nearby if the bus is usually on time. He has a flat-top blonde haircut and thick black glasses. He shrugs. "Sometimes yes, sometimes it's 25 minutes late." He looks intently at his phone. "It's four minutes away." (How did he do that?)

"You have to be careful", he says. "Another 54 passes from here at the same time, going towards Attard, not Valletta. Ask the driver where he's going – the signs on the bus aren't always accurate." Cheers, mate.

The bus arrives at 8:29. The card is a simple tap and pay, though you have to know where to tap. The driver shows me. The trip costs €0.75. I sit in the priority area, to avoid people. There are eight men and three women, including myself. Most are staring intently at their phones, one man looks out the window with his arms crossed, one woman is having a phone conversation in a foreign language. A bearded man wears a suit – it makes me feel less alone. Perhaps I won't be the only person going to the office by bus.

My seat faces backward, which feels strange as we're driving. Like watching the past go by. I'm reminded of old holidays in England – perhaps it's the patterned velvety blue and red seats on a drab grey background. Not as many adverts above the windows though.

The bus lurches every time it stops or slows down. It passes through central Balzan and Birkirkara, rather than through the Birkirkara bypass I'd have used. We drive past my best friend's house. My heart leaps. The bus stops a few times to let people on and off, but 8:45 does not seem to be a busy time.

As we approach Msida, I realise that the string we used to yank to ring the bell has been replaced by a red button surrounded by bright yellow casing.

I ring the bell, and reach my stop at 8:51. I've made it. Safely, comfortably, and on time. Perhaps there was never anything to worry about – but I'll have a backup plan for next Monday, just in case.