"Ten euros?" repeated the bald man with the north-of-England accent, turning back from the entrance to the Grand Master's Palace. "No, no, too expensive, that. Last time I were here it were only a lira." Even out of season, Valletta had been priced for tourists. You approached every gate with a sense of trepidation, on the look out for ticket booths, prepared, for embarrassment's sake, to retreat before anywhere the price wasn't prominently displayed.