In my life up to now, I’ve spent more time with mosquitoes than with my siblings.
Now, before you think I’ve gone absolute nuts and writing about a mosquito, let me set the context.
Growing up on a tropical island, where humidity made my straight Chinese hair super wavy naturally, mosquitoes used to have nightly feasts over my body. They became tougher as the years went by, slowly being immune against Vape, sandal moustik, Doom and all other insect repellents you can imagine.
A sleepless night and then early start to take the school bus for one hot, sweaty, sticky day in my white and navy blue school uniform, with red marks over my face because I slapped myself too hard. And repeat.
In South Africa, where I lived for just over nine years, regular banquets were held – on my face, my arms, my shoulders, my neck, and even my bum! Mosquitoes from all over the Western Cape and the Limpopo provinces gathered each night, all through the year, with a few gaps during the winter months. Now, if you’ve ever experienced those kind of nights where mosquitoes are having a ball, a masquerade ball and partying around like crazy, you’ll know how much I dislike being kept awake by those insects.
If mosquitoes were nutritious and you could have them on a skewer, grilled and drizzled with garlicky mayonnaise, I would support that industry.
I am writing this, while feasting on a delicious beef tagine (yes, there are apricots, nuts and aromatic spices) with pita bread in the comfort of my current dwelling. A beautiful Andalusian-style home with a lovely Moorish courtyard. All is well. I did not accidentally knock my head against one of the high walls of the Real Alcazár. I promise.
For the past three nights though, I’ve had the visit of The Spanish Mosquito.
And it’s a story worth telling.
All about The Spanish Mosquito
It was on a dark, dark night when it happened. Here I am in my bed, trying to sleep. Suddenly, I hear buzzing. It took me by surprise, I will admit. The sound is different to the buzzing made by African mosquitoes. It’s not persistent. It’s very laid back. Bzz. That’s it. As simple as a Hola.
I imagine The Spanish Mosquito going: “Bzz (which we now know means Hola). Target spotted! Human flesh, juicy blood, mucho deliciosa“. But then, getting closer to my skin, it felt repulsed. “¿que está pasando?” (meaning “What’s happening?).
For the sake of all my international readers – who might not understand Spanish-mozzie lingo – I will now continue this story in English.
The Spanish Mosquito felt nauseated the closer it got to me. It even threw up mid-air I suppose, because there was no buzzing. Mosquitoes can’t buzz and throw up at the same time. So it had to stop.
The second night, The Spanish Mosquito – or perhaps he sent his rival, saying “I bet you won’t be able to get a taste of this mucho deliciosa human blood in that house. You don’t have the guts to do this!” – and challenge accepted, the mosquito came in full force. “Bzz.”
With one hand flick, I chased it away from my face. And heard no other sound after that.
Wow. That hand flick must have been lethal.
The third night, there was one Bzz again and nothing. OK, maybe it’s another mosquito because the other one is dead, and it’s also named The Spanish Mosquito. No bite. No blood was shed or sucked.
The Spanish Mosquito hates me. It is repulsed by me. It looks at me in disgust.
How strange that it did not bite me.
Being in Seville in Spring, when mosquitoes start to come out of hibernation (or whatever it is they do), has allowed me to star in my own Sleeping Beauty fairytale. Somehow, I have been gifted with an inner Spanish Mosquito repellent.
I sleep long, sometimes too long. And let’s not forget that there’s also the midday siesta.
If I had to settle – hypothetically speaking of course – I would totally choose Spain. Even in winter.
Anyone else hate mosquitoes? 🙂 Let me know what were your worst experiences abroad.