buzzzzz

There is a noise more than any other that will raise me from slumber. It is a noise so infuriating and bone chilling that I have little control thereafter over my actions.

On my second night in Kas (a sleepy Mediterranean town hugging the gorgeous turquoise coloured coast of south turkey), after spending the day tanning my bronzed body, swigging beer, and falling into a belly full of grilled fish food coma – I encountered that noise.

Now, prancing naked around our pension room at 0330am with a towel in one hand and a flip-flop in the other, conjures images better forgotten. Yet trying smash into oblivion the creators of that terrible noise I just described required both hands.

How I hate the buzzing of mosquitoes!

Having realised that I had an issue (thanks Tandi for pointing that out), I knew that in the name of matrimonial harmony, I needed to get past the insanity that this particular hum provoked in me.

Two nights, a pair of boots (that remained working with tape and rope), 25 kilometres, three skinny dips, and 7 blisters – later, I had the opportunity to face my lunacy.

On a deserted hilltop on part of the Lyceum way (a path that plunges its way along rugged Turkish hilltops and coastline), camped by the well where we drew our water, we crawled into our cosy tent as the sun was setting and the mosquitoes buzzing.

Struggling not to jump out of my tent and spray DEET continuously, with deep meditation, breathing, and Tandi’s elbow, I finally embraced the anxiety provoking mosquito hum. Being surrounded by a mosquito proof tent definitely helped, but I still felt proud of having conquered the fear that the mosquitoes engendered. And, for the first time, I allowed the gentle buzzing that enveloped our tent in the night to lull me into a sleep, and naked I slept with a flip flop close by – just in case…