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Some two years ago a Frenchman tore down part of an ancient Inca wall to build a hotel in the Peruvian city of Cuzco, capital of the once great Inca empire. Prospective hotelier Joel Raymund was planning to slap up an unsightly concrete wall in place of the large, finely cut bricks which had been there since before the 16th century Spanish conquest. Now these are no ordinary bricks. Inca masonry is renowned for the way massive blocks of stone, sometimes weighing up to 125 tons, were hewn into complex polygonal shapes and then fitted together with astonishing precision without the use of mortar. The streets of Cuzco are lined with these huge Inca-built stone walls which form the foundations of colonial and modern buildings.
The walls are testimony to man’s ingeniousness and creativity, and imbue the city with a sense of history. Tourists flock from far and wide to admire them, readily taking on the discomfort of altitude sickness (Cuzco is 3326 metres above sea level) and the far from perfect Peruvian airlines, to be able to experience the wonderful Incan legacy. Only a cultural philistine would dream of demolishing the walls in order to replace them with modern, convenient but totally bland concrete. The Peruvian authorities halted the construction of Raymund’s hotel (which ironically enough, was to be called “The Archeologist”), he apologized, and it was generally agreed that he had acted like a cretin.
What goes on in the place which Paddington Bear described as “deepest, darkest Peru” would only be of anecdotal interest, were it not for the fact that something similar has happened right here, only with a very different reaction from the authorities involved. A couple of weeks ago, the Hilton people were given the MEPA go-ahead to build a series of luxury apartment blocks a mere 1.2 metres away from a fortification wall constructed by the Knights of St. John in 1770. Together with the watch towers found along the sea line the wall forms part of the coastal defence system thought up by the French knight Vendome. The entrenchments in the St. Julians and Spinola area were financed by Grandmaster Emanuel de Pinto himself. The particular wall in question is classified as a Grade one architectural monument which essentially means that it has to be preserved in its entirety. No alterations which impair the setting or change the external or internal appearance of these buildings is allowed.
Well, the original Hilton plans had the apartments perched on concrete pillars to be built on the wall itself while the balconies overlooked it. Now, the developers have graciously conceded a couple of metres and will not be piling their high-rises directly on the fortifications. Oh, and they have agreed to terrace the apartments so that only the lucky owner of the lower storey apartment will be able to drip dry his sodden boxer shorts over Pinto’s wall. So much for not impairing the setting of a scheduled building. It is quite clear that the fortifications are going to be dwarfed by the new developments. The effect will be an unpleasing one of clashing styles, much like the abominable apartments built on the Cottonera bastions, where modern flats have been grafted onto the historic ramparts resulting in an architectural Frankenstein’s monster. The MEPA board was all in a dither because the Superintendence of Cultural Heritage did not submit his views on the matter. Of course he should have RSVPed, but was his input strictly necessary to realize that the project will destroy the visual integrity of the area and the entrenchment? Further up along the coastline, the watchtower at St. George’s bay has been enclosed within the confines of the Corinthia hotel, hiding another part of the fortification system from public view and other watch towers in the series. This spoils the whole concept of having a chain of towers around the coastline, with each one being able to see the next in line and to relay signs of imminent danger. No matter - the cultural philistines aren’t at the gate, they’re in the high-rise hovels and hotels above the towers.
While leafing through the November issue of Vanity Fair, I came across an advert promoting a stay in Malta. The tagline was “Malta. In style” and the blurb enjoined readers to “Explore 7000 years of history amidst spectacular scenery and architecture, indulge in outdoor living at its best….” Flights from London and a seven night stay at the Hilton could be had from £490 (LM 307). What struck me was the fact that the picture used in the advert was a shot of the Marsamxetto harbour with the Valletta bastions bathed in a golden glow and church spires rising above old houses with traditional wooden balconies. As in other campaigns promoting Malta, it is the traditional scenes which are highlighted – images of multi-coloured “dghajjes” bobbing about on azure seas, sunburnt farmers tilling green fields, the bastions, Mdina. You never get a shot of any one of the cookie-cutter shoe-box hotels, the commercial shopping centres or the depressingly uniform blocks of flats which make Malta look like Torremolinos without the paella. The ad makers are evidently projecting that aspect of Malta which they think is more appealing to tourists. That’s why they’re not splashing big pictures of local hotels all over Vanity Fair. Maybe they should. Otherwise there’s a very good chance that the tourists lured here by pictures of clean seas and pristine fortifications will take one look at the way we’ve wrecked the view and the bastions, and sue them for misrepresentation under the local version of the Trade Misdescriptions Act.
I know many people who collect nostalgia prints – photos of Malta in bygone days, before the onslaught of the shoe box flats, the high rise hovels and aluminium everything. They’re not just nostalgia freaks. They are people who crave beauty, harmony and some basic aesthetic standards. Unfortunately these vales are deemed to be the ultimate extravagance in today’s world. So we live in ugly urban ghettos and pore over the nostalgia prints and the coffee table books with old photographs. Or else we buy Vanity Fair and wonder where that spectacular scenery and architecture went.
cl.bon@global.net.mt
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