The signs are that Gozo is the place to head for dental treatment these days!

Malta has quietly been establishing itself as a medical tourism destination in recent years. The islands can claim a long and veritable history in medicine from the time of the Knights of St John to their role as ‘nurse of the Mediterranean’ in World War II.

Despite the Sterling-Euro exchange rate of the past year or so, Malta still seems to be attracting medical tourists. Its pull is not only its value-for-money, professional medical and dental treatment but also its climate, culture, English-speaking medical staff and relative ease of access from European cities.

For Britons, facing a lack of NHS dentists and exorbitant rates for ‘going private’, a trip here makes sense. For some, it’s almost a home from home. At the tail end of last year, journalist Jennifer Pulling joined them, taking the dental tourism trail to Gozo, Malta’s small sister island.

Here, she describes her ‘dental Odyssey’ on Calypso’s Isle.

It actually all began the Christmas before last. I wanted to escape the frantic shopping fest and plumped for Gozo. I basked in warm sunshine, sat in deserted village squares and discovered the mix of sacred and pagan in the island’s folk lore and myth. But even here I couldn’t escape the nagging anxiety about my teeth. As I walked across the salt pans on Christmas Day, I told myself I would not let another year pass without resolving it. I wasn’t sure how as I knew that I could never afford the verging on £20,000 my UK dentist was asking.

The answer came out of the blue. One evening, I opened the local Yellow Pages and looked up dentists. The following day I stood in a telephone box in Victoria making a call to a dental clinic. A few days later I flew home with all the literature.

Never one to make decisions swiftly, it took me almost a year to find the courage to go for it. In the meantime, the enormity of the problem and the lengths Brits go to solve it surprised me.

Some 70,000 Britons went outside the country for health care in 2007, a figure which was expected to rise to 200,000 by 2010. Out of a sample of 650 UK health tourists, savings on treatment cost accounted for 92% of the reasons for having treatment done abroad. 97% of medical tourists said they would ‘definitely go abroad for medical treatment again’. The ex-UK medical tourism market is currently worth £375 million. Dentistry is a particularly good example, due to the UK’s shortage of National Health dentists.

I’m a journalist who goes for research in a big way. The Google machine was both a blessing and a curse, taking up hours of my time as I ploughed through websites on dentistry abroad. The British Dental Association made gloomy reading as it only pointed out the pitfalls: number of visits required, qualifications and experience to check, and darkest of all, what does one do if things go wrong.

In my capacity as a journalist, I got the chance to check out a Bulgarian clinic, but the young age of the dentist there, and the clinic’s rather austere atmosphere despite its professional manner somewhat dissuaded me from taking that route. So I returned to Malta to combine a holiday with a trip to that Gozitan clinic. It was incredibly hot and the long bus journeys coupled with ferry crossings were exhausting. But from the moment I stepped into the practice I felt I had come home.

[eds. note: Jennifer was mid-way in her treatment writing this but was impressed with the care, attention to detail, time and professionalism she has received at the Gozitan clinic she chose.]

The confidence in knowing I am now on the road to correcting my teeth has over spilled into other areas. I have no qualms about returning to begin on the next phase, the implant procedure I need. In fact I can’t wait.

Perhaps I won’t have absolutely perfect teeth. There have been far too many years of my own and some UK dentists insouciance…..but I’ll be able to talk, laugh and eat with confidence. I have taken the step in time. I dipped into my savings and had the initiative to take myself to Gozo. What of those who can do neither and must suffer broken, painful and missing teeth for the rest of their lives?

I look back on that call I made from a Gozitan telephone box; it was one of the best things I’ve ever done.

Jennifer was treated at the Savina Dental Clinic, Gozo.

Photo: Therese Debono

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A Marinara Moment: Gozo's food at its best

One of the best things about eating out in Gozo is the service. Generally it’s friendly (if they know you, it’s first name basis pretty quickly), most times it’s quick and it certainly isn’t ITS’ (Malta’s Institute of Tourism Studies ‘cum chef school’) cookie-cutter. In fact, it’s often enough quirky, which adds to the enjoyment, unless you’re some up-tight nuevo-yuppy who thinks he’s worthy of silver service and has this need to send back the first couple of bottles because they’re, you know, not quite the thing.

Hey, fool, if it’s got alcohol in it and it ain’t corked, you don’t get to send it back: next time, choose something you like.

So, where to go when you’re up North and peckish? Time for a coffee or lunch: where do I point the wheels?

You want somewhere smart? OK, if you must, you must, though this is Gozo after all, so chill an’all that, so there’s Tmun, Victoria and Ta’ Frenc for smart dining, right up there amongst the best. Me? I tend towards the more casual end of the spectrum, so close to home, there’s Oleander in Xaghra Square – a leisurely Sunday lunch on one of the outside tables; if the weather’s friendly, it’s as close to bliss as you can get legally.

Don’t jump down my throat, but you can also have fun in Marsalforn, the Bugibba-in-the-North disadvantages notwithstanding. Il-Pulena, in the Menqa, serves up seriously good pizza and other basic stuff, and as far as I’m concerned, a weekday lunch in early spring is the best reason for playing hooky from the real world.

Just back along the harbour-front, towards what must be the least busy Police Station in the country (in winter, anyway) is the Calypso Hotel, where you get a good coffee and can relax a morning while the missus is off getting her hair done or whatever it is people do on a Saturday morning. Alternatively, there’s it-Tokk, in Rabat, with something like six coffee shops intemingling, amongst them the original Jubilee, and the Central, where the Marocchino is luxurious.

After your siesta, which is de rigeur, you’ll need a coffee to clear the cobwebs and, a bit later (you don’t want anyone thinking you’re too fond of a drop) a g&t or something on those lines, to set you up for the evening. Here’s where somewhere like Xlendi comes into the picture – if you can bag a table at the edge, where the beach wall serves as an excellent foot-rest, you’re chilling with the best of them. When you get hungry, walk (yes, walk) to La Terrazza, where “location, location, location” isn’t used to detract from the obligation to provide excellent pizza (you’ve noticed I like pizza?)

It’s the dinner hour, so off you go: Tatita’s in San Lawrenz or Tmun, down the other end of the island in Mgarr (yes, there are two Tmuns) will hit the spot, as will Wileg in Qala or Maji in Rabat.

So there you go, a few places to satisfy the inner man – they’re not the only ones available in Gozo, by a long shot and I’ve probably left a few out.

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Ggantija temple, the Xaghra tourists see. But locals know there's more to the place.

I’ve lived in Xaghra, off and on, for about three years now. When I say “lived”, it’s more weekended, a word that Word says doesn’t exist, but it does, because I do it.

We bought a flat here as an occasional weekend place, thinking we wouldn’t be here that often, say once a month and probably not in summer anyway. Buzz, wrong answer, the decompression factor kicked in and we head up here as soon as possible when the weekend looms and linger here as much as possible when it starts retreating. So weekending is more half-weeking, sometimes, though the weekend is normally involved somewhere.

Which is not to say that we’ve abandoned our “normal” home in Malta, just that our son now has even more freedom than when we’re around. It’s an arrangement that works.

Xaghra, as you probably know, but be patient for the benefit of the non-familiar, is a village that sprawls over some five ridges and a relatively large plateau between them pretty much in the centre of Gozo.
We’re virtually on the southern end of the most north-north-western finger (confused? That’s the idea, surprise visitors are not part of the decompression process) which means we get a view of the setting sun over 180 degrees of the island – we’re as far from the sea as it’s possible to be in Gozo, which is actually about 10 minutes, but we’ve swum about five times over the last three years, so it’s no great hardship.

Why Xaghra? Coincidence, really, and it’s too long a story to go into anyway, but it’s turned out to be a pretty good place to be. If you want to get to Rabat, which is what we call Victoria, it’s a three minute slalom down the Sellum (you head to the cemetery and hope the brakes work); if you want to get to Bugibba-in-the-North (Marsalforn) it’s five minute the other way; and if you want to get to the ferry, you can do it (I have) in seven minutes and still catch the trip.

Everywhere else you want to be in Gozo is in equally easy reach, especially if you avoid Racecourse Street on Saturday morning (it’s full of Maltese tourists doing the retail-therapy thing), which is not difficult if you’ve a sense of direction slightly better than that of a dead pigeon.

You want the papers? Head to Joe Cini’s petrol-station, they’re usually there by 8.00. Did I say petrol-station? Aladdin’s Cave, more like, but that’s a symptom of many retail outlets in Gozo. Trot along to Victor’s to rent a DVD and you’ll see what I mean – it’s in front of Iz-Zajbra, where the pizza is cheap and not bad at all.
Victory Square, which is what downtown Xaghra is known as (and where Cini’s is) has no less than six eating and drinking places, two of which are Daniel’s Oleander and DVenue (check out the art at the latter and forgive my vested interest, says he grinning sheepishly) and all of which are pretty good fun. Check out Diamond Jubilee for a good dose of Gozo Chic, it’s worth it, especially on Sunday morning.

All other needs are catered for in Xaghra: there’s a post-office (queues not an issue) a couple of pharmacies, many grocers (ours is St Joseph) a gun-shop (never been there, since I’m not precisely a pro-hunting guy) and a number of pet-shops and hardware stores. Cultural needs are catered for by a three minute roll down the Sellum (see above) with two opera houses (four performances a year; this isn’t Milan) and a cinema. The large banks maintain some sort of presence, though I suspect the main business is transacted in Rabat. Hint, though: if you need an ATM, head to Nadur, you can park just next to it.

You’re also in touch with the past here – stroll around aimlessly and you’ll miss most things (except for Ggantija, you’d have to be blind to miss the tourist throngs) but there’s a rather splendid little volume – “Archaeological Walks on Gozo” (by Lenie Reedijk, which explains why she writes “on” rather than “in”, I suppose) which will guide you neatly to the lesser known spots which are worth a look.

So that’s it, my Xaghra. It’s not actually mine, but it’s the one I’ve got to know, and it’s a good place to live.

Photo: Peuplier

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