Arriving in Valletta was like entering London just a little smaller and with more sun. Meaning there are the red double-decker busses (the old ones where you can hop on and off while driving), a wembley store, every restaurant offers fish and chips with vinegar, small shops and pubs look very British and everybody speaks english perfectly fine. And if you do not remember the fact that the traffic here is left handed (as I didn't) your life might be shortened very suddenly by some aggressive bus driver, but fortunately they honk until you're out of the way (or even if you're about to get in their way).
