we’ve all been bitten by the odd bug or so, we all learn to live with this minor irritation.
jk, i dunno about you guys, but i scratch every bite till it bleeds. yeah i know, scars blablabla. dont. care. absolutely do not care. its worth it.
anyway, with this less than tolerant attitude towards mosquitoes, i’m sure you can fathom how certain more tropical climates might not entirely agree with me all the time. to clarify, i’m not sure how the rest of the world is, but mosquitoes in switzerland are mostly harmless (as harmless as evil bloodsucking parasites can be), whereas the ones in the US, as an example, are horrifying. if you don’t believe me: my brother once saw a mosquito land on his leg in the US, and he slapped it, and the mosquito not only survived but proceeded to bite him anyway. it then flew away unscathed. a goddamn survivor.
and considering all this, i just want to say that my recent trip to portugal with my boyfriend was lovely – beautiful beach, sunsets, the works – except for one tiny detail. the mosquitoes. now you may think i’m exaggerating, but let me tell the story:
portugal, as some of you may already know, is a rather warm country. very warm, in fact. so there we are, bf and i, trying to get a good nights sleep. sweating. gasping for breath, trying to suck in the humid air. totally survivable, tbh. i actually slept rly well. we spent a few nights in these conditions, it was alright.
but then, tragedy struck. we got too confident. and we *audience has baited breath* decided to sleep with the window open. let in the fresh cool air. let a nice breeze caress our skin. it was tempting, and we were weak.
the first night like this was quite alright. we got a few bites, as expected, but it was nothing we couldn’t deal with. our plan had been a success.
“lets continue on this path”, we thought, “this seems totally livable”, we thought.
we were wrong.
the second night was worse, and we woke up covered in bites. the annoyance really had become too strong at this point, and we decided – like any smart person would (honestly i don’t think you even have to be smart for that) – to shut the window from now on.
and wE FORGOT.
tuckered out from an exhausting day at the beach, we crashed in the bed and fell right asleep. believe me when i say that the next morning i woke up because of my itching body. because of it.
cursing and feeling stupid, we slammed the window shut and thought this would be the end of our suffering.
again, we were wrong. (i’m almost tearing up thinking about how wrong we were.)
you see, apparently our bedroom was a very attractive bedroom to the mosquitoes, and the mosquitoes, seizing the opportunity we had foolishly provided, had migrated into the bedroom. colonized the bedroom. they probably had tiny flags and celebrations and everything. not to mention further populating their new home.
and in the evening, of course, in we walked, a giant feast for everyone, with our inviting plumpness, pulsating veins, enticing body warmth (i know this description may be disturbing, but i’m trying to write in the mosquitoes’ point of view).
the feast tried to sleep, but it was a restless sleep. every ten seconds another mosquito would help itself to our deliciousness, every time a little bit of sleep and a little bit of patience was drained from our bodies along with the blood.
we woke up miserable, desperate, hoping that the next night would be bearable. it wasn’t.
the mosquitoes were relentless! untiring!
nearing insanity, my bf and i started swatting the air at every hint of a bug, but to no avail.
eventually i was starting to feel like one huge mosquito bite, and at last, when i could take it no longer, i let out a cry of utter despair, kicking and hitting the mattress, got up, grabbed my pillow and duvet, and announced that i would be sleeping on the couch in the living room. bf followed suit.
at about 5 in the morning, we finally fell sleep. grateful, peaceful sleep.
the next day we investigated the situation, and were forced to acknowledge that the bedroom had, in fact, become more mosquito-invested than the actual OUTSIDE.
Not only that, we also found a GIANT COCKROACH in one of the clothing drawers (even the thought is making me shudder – and i, mercifully, will not include a picture). A GIANT FU**ING COCKROACH. A MONSTER. A DRAGON. IT COULD EVEN FLY. I WOULD GLADLY HAVE PROVIDED THE FIRE EXCEPT I FIGURED IT WOULDNT BE SMART TO BURN DOWN THE HOUSE. to be honest, the cockroach deserves its own story, because the effort we had to go through to get rid of it was just. oh god. just trying to forget. #scarredforlife #worsethanmosquitobitescars #wayf*ckingworse
We slept on the couches for the rest of our stay.
And actually, we continued to thoroughly enjoy the trip, however, we were from then on plagued by nervous, slightly crazy ticks every time we thought something other than air had touched us (and i’m sure anyone with long hair can sympathize with my situation on that one), and did have at least one conversation about how to create optimal mosquito-torture devices (we did think about the ethical issues regarding such ideas, however, we also decided we no longer give a flying eff about mosquito rights. those motherfudgers can die excruciating deaths for all i care, because i dont).
The moral of the story, basically, is that i hate mosquitoes.
But everythin’s just dandy now :D and i can also highly recommend portuguese food.
p.s. writing this has made me itch all over, no joke. :P