Drunk Mosquitos

3 Days into our Balinese adventure and all is going according to plan.
Apart from the first attempted landing at Denpasar Airport. After a relatively uneventful flight where we basked in the rudeness that is Jetstar’s attempt at hospitality, we saw the lights of Bali through the plane’s window and my heart soared. Until the pilots tried to touch down, and about a metre from doing so, hit the accelerator like Charlie Sheen hits the nose candy. With great gusto. It is called an aborted landing attempt. I quietly shat my pants and instantly turned to religion. At least for the next ten minutes until we were of Terra firma. And I hugged (who I thought may have been our pilots) later at the baggage check.
A few nights at The Legian in Seminyak calmed my shot-to-shit nerves. And now we have relocated to the cat sitting gig in Canguu. The cats come with a house that is so beautiful my eyes hurt when I look around. There is a main house, then 2 wings which encase an infinity pool and the most amazing tropical gardens I have ever seen. I can certainly get used to this. Except I saw a teeny tiny snake and shat my pants again, until the cats spied it and ate in in front of me while I squealed like an idiot. So now I suspect the cats are here to look after me, and not vice versa.
And the mozzies are like baby elephants with fangs. And Wings. They come out to eat you at about 6.30 each evening. So I have devised a natural way to repel them. Quinine. Mosquitos cannot stand sucking on a vein that contains quinine. And quinine is commonly found in tonic water. And where I come from, tonic water is most commonly found mixed with gin. And I am drinking guinine each night to avoid mosquitos. And that is the only reason.
Till then,
Mrs Woog