Enter the Mosquito

Something I had forgotten about Rabat. In the summer, it’s mosquito-ville. It’s a coastal city, though the part where I live is no-where near the beach, and so it’s much more humid here than in Fes. And that means mosquitoes.I am one of those unfortunate people who just looks tasty to the mosquito. As a consequence, for the last 3 nights I’ve not slept well at all. The night of the garden party I got bitten 17 times. I woke up with itching knuckles, because I’d been bitten 3 times on my hand. One of my fingers still won’t bend properly. Work on Thursday was a bit of a non-day so I had nothing to post about. The highlight was deciding  walk home. I ended up beating the tram. Clearly there had been a hold-up somewhere, but it was nice to know that I had been healthy rather than sat around waiting for half an hour.

Friday was another non-day. I enjoy working, and doing something productive, but I can’t pretend it’s thrilling. And the thing about Rabat is that, compared to Fes, it’s just a city. Sure, men still pay a little attention, but not much. And I was a bit depressed to see two people from the office (I think they were teachers) sitting on the roof and bitching about a third person. Now, fair enough, the third person was out of order. But I’ve always liked to think that life stops being ridiculously cliquey once you get to work, and people stop behaving like children. The third person in this little exchange did one silly thing. The first two then didn’t speak to me at all even though I was alone, and instead sat and bitched loudly enough for me to hear. I honestly wanted to tell them to grow up.

Then today I slept and slept, and itched and itched and slept. Beach is on the cards later. Should be fun. One can hope.

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