This week Malta hit the headlines here in Brussels. Along with Italy, Croatia and Slovakia, our country has the dubious honour of hosting the oldest family nest quitters. In these countries, parents need to wait longer to become empty-nesters, as the young leave home in their early thirties, according to statistics published by Eurostat.

I say “dubious” with little irony, for I am not one to quickly dismiss the nesting lifestyle. With current house prices and costs of mortgage, it may well be a wise economic move to stay put and live with one’s parents, whereas independence can be gained in other ways. Women should particularly take note: contrary to what magazines tell you, a man who chooses to live with his mother may be a man with sound financial sense.

After all, marriage - widely accepted as a mature “adult” choice - is a way to live and share the burdens of life with a partner: so what if someone does not find a person suitable to share them with? Do they have to live on their own? Or should they just hurriedly choose on a first-come, first-served basis and commit to someone he or she will eventually divorce down the line, just for the sake of leaving the nest? I would think that the rational decision is to live with the people one goes along with most, and if those happen to be one’s own parents, then so be it. It certainly beats living with a stranger for a roommate, who may be a psychopathic serial killer or end up being your murderer, as has happened in some of history’s strangest cases of homicide.

Must we always follow the herd instinct and do what others tell us? Do we really need to base our choices on statistics? Is there only one recipe to a fulfilling life?

It is certainly what the real estate moguls want us to think: “buy a house to gain independence”, they pronounce, much like car manufacturers tell us to buy an automobile to achieve freedom. In the latter case, we quickly realise that freedom on wheels is bound by oil prices, but it may take longer for us to realise that by spending so much for a sheltered independence we enslave ourselves to absolute, and in some cases lifelong, dependence.

It has always amused me how people bragging about buying a house never realise this. In their search for home rule, they end up replacing one set of parents with an indifferent parent company. They wanted independence yet they now need their jobs more than ever and have also thrown their financial freedom in the price too.

Too often I hear them boast about how they can do whatever they want now that they have bought their own house and moved out of their parents’ nest. Yet whenever asked about any plans, travelling and the like, they instinctively reply that they cannot even afford a quick getaway because they need to pay off the mortgage. The leash they are on is always very short. Meanwhile, I often discover that many of those who were more patient about moving out have toured Europe, if not the world, and have landed good jobs which allow them a smoother transition from mommy’s boy to truly independent house-owner.

So the news that Malta’s youth takes longer to move out may not be all that bad. Perhaps the Maltese, like the Italians, are wiser than the Belgians.

 

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I am not so certain of Maltese wisdom when it comes to something else the Belgian cherish. Walking along the depressing streets, on rocky pavements and beneath towering structures of concrete ugliness, one is bound to come across an oasis of flowery beauty and pristine condition embodied in a whimsical marriage of bricks, iron and glass. Belgians are proud of their modern architecture. Meanwhile, back in Malta, architecture seems to only mean baroque buildings built by the Knights. Anything not built by a Grandmaster is of no value and is bound to face the wrecking ball sooner or later.

Even when these buildings still stand defiantly, they are in such a state of disrepair or neglect that one may be forgiven for wishing the wrecking ball upon them as a form of architectural euthanasia.

Buildings which have somehow been relatively well-preserved and in some cases even scheduled - the Rialto Cinema in Cospicua and the Orpheum Theatre in Gzira spring to mind - are nonetheless often forgotten. In any other European country, these premises would doubtlessly be fully exploited as cultural havens.

There seems to be no appreciation of our more modern buildings, like our few Art Nouveau buildings and Art Deco gems. Success stories deserve a mention - Roseville Villa in Attard, which today is an old (wealthy) people’s home, and the new lease of (unfortunately banking) life given to an abandoned Art Nouveau building in Tower Road, Sliema, are the first to come to mind - but one cannot deny the fact that Sliema has been architecturally raped and robbed of its beauty. From the many Art Nouveau and Art Deco buildings previously lining its streets, only a handful remain.

Development in such an important touristic area is inevitable, but keeping a part of it untouched would have been wise. Those clamouring for unbridled development are either too insensitive to aesthetic beauty or too thick to realise the importance of heritage and how better it would have been, even for businesses, had we left Sliema the privilege of an “old” town: either way it is their onus to seek to understand, so I am not going to ashamedly bow into apologetics, as is expected in our culturally primitive society.

If the plan to demolish an iconic Art Nouveau property in Tigné eventually comes to fruition, then we will lose yet another gem. Meanwhile, here in Brussels, you can pay to visit some of their Art Nouveau buildings.

Perhaps the Maltese are not wiser than the Belgians, after all.

 

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This doubt is enough to make me reconsider my previous conclusion. Digging deeper into the issue I come across another possible - and perhaps more plausible - reason behind the longer wait in leaving the nest.

Stumbling across the concept of ‘waithood', I realise that the dependency on the parents may not be intentional after all. Studying the Eurostat statistics, it becomes immediately clear that the top three places where young people leave home earliest are affluent countries, and that there is a correlation between the wealth of a nation and the age at which the young leave the parental household, a fact further corroborated by the countries taking up the last places - both Italy and Croatia have some of the highest youth unemployment rates in Europe - and, even more tellingly, by common sense: with no job, buying a house becomes something to dream about, rather than merely postpone.

The Tanguy syndrome is most present where financial means are most absent.

 

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The Suq in Valletta, despite surviving a world war, has also fallen victim to aesthetic indifference and ignorance. Despite its central location, and its glorious past, there is little market activity nowadays, and the place feels as dead as that other architectural gem resting in peace on tal-Ħorr hill. A new project will try to resuscitate the building - the first one in Malta to be constructed entirely out of metal - but here again, we must tread carefully. The Suq is a historic market, and the only way to restructure the building with respect to its past is by keeping to the tradition and style of the old hub, and not turn it into one of the cheap-looking, artificial malls unnecessarily dotting the country.

We should, as many have suggested, look to Spain as a model. Their markets - like the Mercado Central in Valencia - are architectural marvels bustling with life.

In England, market culture is also alive and well - the quaint Borough Market and the grandiose St Nicholas Markets are but two of the many markets the country is home to - as it is in the rest of Europe.

The reason that these markets thrive is that they recall a sense of authenticity: the vintage style evokes a sense of trust and paints a picture of wholesome genuine produce.

Now imagine if these places were to be restored without any respect to their original design and their current allure. And imagine if, for instance, the Belgians were to transform their Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert into an aluminium-infested den. Not only would this probably raise a public outcry on purely aesthetic grounds, the markets themselves would also lose their appeal and, consequently, their customers.

The old market in Valletta evokes a sense of solidity, even to those not familiar with its resilient past when the city was heavily bombed. It is our duty to keep it that way. The market, scheduled as a Grade 1 National Monument, boasts cast iron pillars. Similar iron market halls in Europe include the Mercato Centrale in Italy and the Mercado de San Miguel in Spain (classed as a Site of Cultural Interest in the Monument Category), which, thankfully, a spokesman of the private company taking up the project referred to.

Breathing life into a historic building is a delicate process, and one we should approach with due diligence and care, lest we give it the kiss of death. Just look at Budapest’s Grand Market Hall: a wonderful Art Nouveau structure filled with identical shops offering the same identical tacky wares and kitschy souvenirs. Needless to say, I bought absolutely nothing when I visited.

The proposal for a lounge on the top floor is most worrying: I hope this will not end up being a seedy place blasting horrible little ditties at full volume. The Mercato Centrale in Firenze should, once again, prove an excellent model to emulate.

So with all things said, I welcome this new project glimmering with hope, as, I am certain, do many Maltese. Still, it would be wise to study similar European markets before committing to  possibly irreversible actions: our market has a distinctive design adorned with beautiful iron pillars and it would be a shame to lose this architectural heritage. Hopefully, its current design will be respected.

But it’s not just the architecture which must be respected: a marketplace has a distinctive character which we must preserve at all costs. Just like San Miguel in the heart of Madrid’s historic centre, is-Suq tal-Belt in the heart of Valletta should provide a spot where locals and tourists can find the richness and diversity of the local culture and produce under one roof, giving food artisans centre stage. Let’s make sure the Suq preserves its initial purpose and provides the public with a unique experience. And let’s do this slowly and carefully, and ensure a smooth transition from dilapidated old building to restructured gem.

Most importantly, let’s remember that it’s no use crying over spilt milk. Not even at the market.