Ahh living in a tropical country. What everyone dreams of at some point. Palm trees, sand, salt water, coconuts, great weather... and an endless supply mosquitos. Dengue and malaria infested mosquitos.
No one ever talks about the absolute onslaught of mosquitos that you endure day-in-day-out in Southeast Asia. Use all the natural or chemical spray on yourself that you want, you will get a bite on your asscheek, your face, inner thigh, bottom of your foot, whichever. My most hated location is the finger. Name a body part location and they manage to find the one spot you missed. Guaranteed.
"Just get a mosquito net, Katie!" Yeah? Have you ever used one? I'll admit that using a mosquito net in most guesthouses, hostels, and hammocks is absolutely essential when you have open air accommodation. However, everyone who has used one knows you always end up with at least one inside your net. It's like a law of nature.
My bungalow came with this electric tennis racket that I can turn on and absolutely obliterate any mosquito that comes in contact with it. I spend a substantial amount of time with this device and it is absolutely part of my life here. For approximately 20 minutes a day, 10 in the morning and 10 at night, I tour around my bungalow, hopping around it like a jungle gym, hunting like a cat, and shaking all my furniture and dishes, just for the opportunity to spot a mosquito, get close, then electrocute it to death.
It's kind of sadistic. Well... totally sadistic. Moderately barbaric.
It's the satisfying pop and sizzle feedback, knowing that I have decreased my odds of getting bit and possibly getting dengue again. Yes, again. I've had it already. I'm justifiably paranoid.
I know mosquitos are crucial to the ecosystem and planet and are food for birds and other bugs and blah blah. But the ecosystem of my personal, closed-in space does not depend on the existence of mosquitos.
Welcome to the truth of living in the tropics.