At this point, my house is equipped with several contraptions to ward them off.
1) Besides my front door, I have a small clay pot with a stinky burning coil (think incense of a sort), which chases them away. It is truly a must since they tend to flock there and greet me cheerfully when I come back from work. I literally have to wave off a swarm of mosquitoes in order to open my door. The coil reduces the swarm by 50%. I think.
2) Inside each room, there are electric oil plugins which supposedly chase the mosquitoes away from that area. It either simply does not work or the local mosquitoes have disturbingly mutated, but just yesterday I observed a rather large specimen perched peacefully on top of the oil plugin, honing his sting or whatever it is that mosquitoes do in their spare time.
3) I bought an electrical zapper racket. I am NOT proud of it, and I had sworn never to do it since the thought of frying mosquitoes was repulsive to me. Not anymore. I go on a death quest every evening, grim determination on my face and even keep score. The tend to come in from the bathroom canals, so I start there. I close the door and viciously chase the lonely one or two mosquitoes there. YOU will never understand the joy that one can feel upon hearing the electricity crackling while zapping the insects until you have stood there, in the middle of the bathroom, your legs bearing no less than 36 (36, people!!!) bite marks and you have just caught the culprits.
So, yeah, it is war of the worlds here!
We rang in the New Year Eve with some excellent partying. We started with a lovely pre-party at the house of a new Brazilian friend, downed a couple of glasses of champagne and left for the next stop--a party at the Dhaka Club. The Dhaka Club is the meeting place of the "Who's Who" in Dhaka--politicians, Ready-Made Garments' moguls, real estate fiends, more politicians, and more rich Bangladeshis doing "business." While the average age of the 1500 guests was possibly 50, I can tell you everyone was there to party. Our fabulous gracious host kept telling us excitedly that he cannot wait to "boogie" and so left us wondering what we were indeed in for. Turns out, the band was excellent and the dance floor was packed to the brim the entire time. We "boogied" all the way from ABBA, to Boney M, to Michael Jackson (OMG, the things I saw a man with only one leg to Moonwalker, I will NEVER forget!) to Rihanna and Tina Turner. The food, of course, was exquisite.
Exhausted and incredibly excited, we decided to move on to the next venue--the American Club-- where there were in fact two parties. The main one, organized by the Club itself, took place over most of the grounds and looked gorgeous. Over 500 fairly inebriated people were swaying to the same "boogie" tunes that we heard in the Dhaka Club. The second one, a private, smalled event, was organized by a couple of close friends and featured some awesome alternative music and seriously expensive premium alcohol. I made the tactical mistake to buy one, light up my New Year's Eve cigar and sit outside to smoke it while gazing lovingly into the Diplomat's eyes. 15 minutes and 63 mosquito bites later, we decided to call it a night. I suppose the mosquitoes were also celebrating that night. I just would like to think that I was considered "premium bar" myself. It sure looked like it. The Diplomat, who thought he was safely covered from head to toe in clothing, was bitten on his pinkie finger just to prove a point.
And so the new year begins. We already went to work today, and it was busier than ever. Hello 2012.