Gozo’s €22 million pool opens late and over budget, sparking island-wide debate

Gozo Aquatic Complex opening sparks row over costs and delays
By Hot Malta staff | 09 June 2025, 07:30

Xewkija’s new Gozo Aquatic Complex finally threw open its sliding glass doors last Saturday, but the ribbon-cutting was drowned out by whistles, jeers and a lone kazoo from a cluster of Gozitan pensioners who had come to protest, not paddle. “They promised us a pool in 2018, then again in 2021. My grandson learned to swim in the sea with jellyfish; now he’s almost in secondary school,” 72-year-old Żepp Portelli shouted above the brass band hired by the Ministry for Gozo.

The €22 million complex—two Olympic pools, a children’s splash zone, hydro-therapy suites and a rooftop solar farm shaped like the Maltese cross—was hailed by Minister Clint Camilleri as “the jewel of the Mediterranean islands”. Yet the final bill is €7 million over the original 2017 estimate, and the four-year delay means Gozo has missed two full summer tourist seasons when every hotel on the sister island was crying out for weather-proof attractions.

Locals are split between pride and exasperation. In the village square, elderly men argue over coffee while flicking worry beads; younger parents swap memes of the complex’s leaked €750,000 underwater sound system that apparently plays Għanja folk songs at the push of a button. “It’s beautiful, but who’s going to pay the €8 entry fee when the average Gozitan wage is €1,200 a month?” asked 28-year-old baker Davina Cassar, cradling twins who usually cool off in a plastic tub on her Sannat terrace.

The cultural stakes are high. In a place where festa season and village rivalry define identity, the pool has become a political football. Labour-leaning supporters hail it as proof that “Gozo is not forgotten”, while Nationalists wave spreadsheets showing the per-capita cost could have subsidised 400 Gozitan students through University. Meanwhile, ADPD activists arrived dressed as jellyfish to remind onlookers that sewage spills in Marsalforn and Ramla Bay remain untreated.

Tourism operators feel the timing most acutely. “We lost Russian and Ukrainian teens who used to come for water-polo camps; they’ve diverted to Cyprus,” lamented Josephine Vella, who runs a 14-room boutique hotel in Għarb. She estimates the delay cost her €180,000 in lost bookings. Conversely, diving centres are relieved: “Fewer pools means more people still come to us for open-water certs,” winked Miguel Azzopardi, owner of Gozo Blue Dive.

Architects defend the over-run by pointing to pandemic shipping rates, Italian marble inflation and the decision to sink the entire 50 m pool 1.2 m deeper than planned to meet International Water Polo Federation standards. But a 2024 National Audit Office draft seen by this newspaper blames “change orders requested after excavation had begun”, including a last-minute ramp for festa brass bands to march straight into the shallow end during the village feast of St John.

Community impact is already visible. Xewkija’s only grocery has started stocking swim nappies and gluten-free ftira; the parish priest added a 6 a.m. mass “for swimmers who want to beat the crowds”. Yet for every excited child, there is a grandparent remembering the rocky inlet at Mgarr ix-Xini where generations learned to dive off limestone ledges. “We needed a pool, yes, but we also need honesty about how we got here,” said 83-year-old fisherman Toni “il-Bos” Ciangura, who claims he could have built three traditional luzzus for the same money.

As the sun set over the Ta’ Ċenċ cliffs, the first paying customers queued beneath fluttering EU flags. A teenage boy emerged from the changing rooms in brand-new goggles, only to be told the competitive lane was closing early because the filtration system had tripped. “Typical,” muttered his mother. “Even the water is late in Gozo.”

Conclusion
The Gozo Aquatic Complex will undoubtedly give the island a year-round attraction, but the splash it has made is as much about trust as chlorinated water. Until entry prices are calibrated to local wallets and the promised youth programmes materialise, the pools risk becoming a glittering metaphor: a project that swam in optimism but belly-flopped on delivery. For Gozitans, who measure time in feast days and harvest moons, the real test is whether the complex can move from political punchline to genuine community hub before the next election cycle—or the next jellyfish bloom.