Bug spray and Heroin
Trip Start
Mar 21, 2005
1
32
33
Trip End
Ongoing
Italians don't believe in air conditioning. And I am not complaining, because frankly I love the fresh air, completely despise of air conditioning myself, and tree huggers make me giggle like a little girl. Italians do believe in freakish over-infestation of blood-hungry mosquitoes. I guess its not really a choice, they are forced to deal with the infestation as am I. But ah ha! I came prepared. After all, before I left for Dubai, having seen the potential that I would be entering one if not several countries that have problems with malaria, I bought the heavy-duty, "this even wards off bears" bug spray. The first night in Florence, I slept unprotected. No bug spray, no candles, no
anti-bug burning incense crap. Nothing. The bugs got me, and they got me good. My ankles were a mosquito battle field and I spent the day trading off between cursing and itching. Curse, curse, itch, curse, itch, itch. The next night, I loaded up, and I loaded up good. Bug spray from head to toe, anti-bug burning incense crap, long pants, sheet, the whole shabang. Still, those darn bugs found a way to my sweet, sweet non-Italian (so the market price has to be higher) blood. More cursing. More itching.
A few nights ago I had a very pleasant, uninterrupted night's sleep, except for a minute or two when I woke up in a crazy fit of arm itching. The next morning, my arm had a giant red spot on it which not only looked bad but hurt too. The red spot only got worse and now it looks as though I am a first-time heroin user. The looks from the nuns and nodding of their heads in agreement about my "heroin problem" makes me shout "its those blasted mosquitoes, not heroin!" making me sound even more crazy, thus confirming their conclusion further. Bah, I can't win. Turkey doesn't have mosquitoes...or nuns who think I use heroin...or actually, any nuns at all. score.
anti-bug burning incense crap. Nothing. The bugs got me, and they got me good. My ankles were a mosquito battle field and I spent the day trading off between cursing and itching. Curse, curse, itch, curse, itch, itch. The next night, I loaded up, and I loaded up good. Bug spray from head to toe, anti-bug burning incense crap, long pants, sheet, the whole shabang. Still, those darn bugs found a way to my sweet, sweet non-Italian (so the market price has to be higher) blood. More cursing. More itching.
A few nights ago I had a very pleasant, uninterrupted night's sleep, except for a minute or two when I woke up in a crazy fit of arm itching. The next morning, my arm had a giant red spot on it which not only looked bad but hurt too. The red spot only got worse and now it looks as though I am a first-time heroin user. The looks from the nuns and nodding of their heads in agreement about my "heroin problem" makes me shout "its those blasted mosquitoes, not heroin!" making me sound even more crazy, thus confirming their conclusion further. Bah, I can't win. Turkey doesn't have mosquitoes...or nuns who think I use heroin...or actually, any nuns at all. score.

