Frank Salt opens first Maltese estate-agent academy in San Ġwann amid property boom

Frank Salt Real Estate opens its own academy in San Ġwann: a Maltese answer to the island’s property boom

San Ġwann, the quiet residential pocket wedged between Birkirkara’s traffic arteries and St Julian’s glittering towers, has long been prized for its village-core calm and proximity to everything Malta’s coast can throw at you. This morning it acquired a new role: national talent incubator for the country’s most talked-about industry. Frank Salt Real Estate, the 55-year-old agency whose red-and-white boards have become as Maltese as festa fireworks, cut the ribbon on its Frank Salt Training Academy inside a converted townhouse on Triq il-Kbira—effectively turning a sleepy side-street into the island’s newest real-estate hothouse.

Inside, the vibe is more creative-hub than classroom. Original limestone arches frame a glass-walled lecture pod; vintage property posters—€4,200 for a three-bedroom Sliema flat, circa 1987—line one wall like cheeky ancestors judging today’s prices. Upstairs, a VR corner lets trainees walk through €3 million penthouses before they’ve earned their first commission. Eighty seats, but 400 applications already. “We could have filled it three times over,” CEO Simon Salt grinned, admitting even he was startled by the hunger. “Malta’s property sector has doubled in size in a decade; we need professionals, not just salespeople.”

Local context matters. With foreigners now accounting for roughly 14% of all buyers—up from 4% in 2013—estate agents have become unofficial ambassadors of Maltese neighbourhoods. A badly briefed agent who mispronounces “Ħaż-Żebbuġ” or glosses over scheduled-property rules can stall a deal and, worse, dent the national brand. The academy’s 12-week curriculum therefore veers beyond valuations and GDPR: trainees take crash courses in Maltese history, wine-and-rabbit-stew etiquette, even basic Maltija small-talk. “Buyers fall in love with the culture first, the plaster second,” lecturer Maria Spiteri explained between role-play sessions where students negotiate in faux-Marsaxlokk fisherfolk accents.

Cultural significance runs deeper. For older residents, the Salt name evokes 1968, when Frank Salt senior parked a second-hand VW Beetle outside the then-empty Gżira marina and started selling “seafront bargains” nobody wanted. Today the firm’s 150-person team handles everything from €70,000 Gozo farmhouses to €30 million Portomaso super-yacht berths. Launching an academy cements the family’s rags-to-riches saga into Malta’s collective memory—proof that post-war barter economies can pivot to global services without losing their soul. “My father sold plots in Manikata for less than today’s dinner bill,” Simon recalled. “Now we’re teaching kids whose parents rented from us in the ’90s.”

Community impact is already visible. The academy sources pastries from nearby family bakery Giannini, installed a book-sharing shelf stocked by San Ġwann primary, and pledges to host quarterly open-door seminars on home-energy grants. Mayor Trevor Fenech welcomed the initiative, noting the town’s youth centre recently lost EU funding. “New skills keep our twenty-somethings from emigrating,” Fenech said. “If they can earn €25,000 plus commission walking distance from home, that’s dinner-table money staying on the island.”

Not everyone applauds. Housing activists warn that better-trained agents could accelerate gentrification. “Polished sales patter won’t build affordable flats,” argued Chanelle Pace from NGO Moviment Graffitti. Simon Salt counters that module seven covers social housing schemes and first-time-buyer incentives. “Transparency is the best defence against bubble culture,” he insisted, revealing plans to publish graduate ethics pledges online.

By noon, the first cohort—teachers-turned-parents, laid-on hotel concierges, even a 19-year-old gamer who swears TikTok is the new classifieds—were deep in a mock negotiation over a fictitious 300-year-old townhouse in Birgu. Laughter echoed off limestone. Outside, an elderly neighbour watered his geraniums, unfazed. “We’ve seen knights, Brits, booms, busts,” he shrugged. “Now we have a school for selling stone. Why not? It’s still our stone.”

Whether the academy cools or supercharges Malta’s sizzling market remains to be seen. But for San Ġwann, today at least, the corner grocer gained 80 new coffee-buying regulars, and a Maltese family firm wrote its next chapter without leaving home.