I am sailing, I am sailing ... errr across the bay

"Mary, baqghalek werqa tursin?"

Ours is a tiny, densely populated island where 'bumping into someone' actually happens quite frequently. At the same time, we are surrounded by one of the most beautiful open seas in Europe. I always thought that owning a boat was a sublime way for the well off to avoid the suffocation of the former and embrace the blue expanse of the latter. Not quite.

Look at these boats in a photo I took from my balcony in Marsalforn. Observe two instances of a common sight this time of year: groups of them tied to each other.

So you buy a boat costing tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of euros to get away from it all, to be at one with nature. It is your ticket to leave behind the noise, the everything-in-your-face condition of our everyday life.

But what do you do instead? You sail it from its berth to a bay close by and once you get there you tie it to other boats owned by people you might know. Then spend days and nights sharing with them the same noises, smells, conversation pieces and habits you shared with them on land. With the difference that this time it all takes place in even more cramped spaces. In addition, you start sharing their snoring, hanging washing, uninteresting friends and what not.

You buy a boat to escape Malta but instead you reproduce an even more claustrophobic version of it on water, just off the shoreline. I just don't get it.