And the Meek shall inherit Room 101
INDIA | Saturday, 20 January 2007 | Views [1800]
It was the nearest hotel to Pokhara's Camping Chowk and the price was
too low, but I took the room anyway. If I was to return to Kathmandu
the next day, having just returned from trekking, it seemed silly to
lug luggage all the way to Lakeside North, only to have to lug it all
the way back at sparrowfart the following morning to Central Lakeside,
where the taxis loiter. So I ambled along the underpass between shops
to the courtyard around which the hotel was built.
The courtyard was rather pleasant, with lots of midday sunshine,
balustraded walkways running round the perimeters of upper floors, and
masses of potplants filled with flowers and greenery. The room, with
bathroom attached, was 150 Rupees. 150? I know that the hotel was
marginally north of Camping Chowk, but you pay that much for a night in
a room without a bathroom at the top of Lakeside North. So I did a
cursory spot check of the essentials: pillow ok; mattress not
fantastic. Perhaps low season had struck while I was out of town?
Whatever the reason, walking any more seemed an unnecessary luxury, and
even though the price of the room was too low it seemed to meet the
standards of acceptable squalour to which I had become accustomed. I
took it.
I'd had a glance at the bathroom which contained the essentials
(toilet, shower, sink, mirror, walls, floor, roof, etc.) but not a
particularly long glance. Having accepted the room, I'd time to make a
slightly more considered appraisal: the toilet didn't flush, but that
wasn't particularly a problem since there was a bucket... three small
daddy long legs had webbed a small patch above the door... and there
appeared to be quite a few mosquitoes that had alighted on surfaces. I
asked if there were another room; there wasn't. Given that the
alternative was to pick up and move (and you know how loathe I am to do
that) there was little choice but to spend a little time eradicating
mosquitoes. The spiders I left untouched; punishing them for their
abject failure as effective insect trappers seemed a little vaderesque,
if eugenically sound.
There are about three and a half thousand species of mosquito, 150 or
more of them in Nepal. My bathroom appeared to have two types. Which
of Nepal's 150+ species these were is beyond the limits of year 10
biology and couldn't-care-less-ness. I hoped that neither were
disease-bearing.
After twenty minutes or so of slapping and clapping, the bathroom
appeared to be mosquito-free, and I inspected the bedroom. Mosquitoes
clung to walls, roof, and curtains, and so another period of slapping
and clapping ensued. Yes, it would have been simpler and perhaps more
sensible to walk, but at that point I'd invested a lot of time in
making the room mosquito free - ah, the perils of being somewhat
obsessive. Two hours later, I looked up at the last two mosquitoes and
left them for later. As you would know, if a job isn't worth doing, it
really isn't worth doing properly, and I was bored with such mindless
exercise violence. So I went out and did such necessary
things such as eat, buy a ticket to Kathmandu, and deal with a week's
backlog of email.
I returned that night. Outside my door I paused to look at those
potplants on the balustraded walkway. Each had a driptray full of
water; well, that explained the mosquitoes. Inside my door, it seemed
that the pair I'd left had been busy breeding, which was a bit of a
worry as I didn't realise that two mosquito species so obviously
different could interbreed... and so quickly.
It was a long night - there's always those last few mosquitoes that
only whine when the light goes off - and eventually I'd smeared most of
them over hands and walls. At least, though, the room appeared to be
hermetically sealed once the bathroom door was bolted, and I left the
room to its insect inhabitants at sparrowfart the next morning. In the
shoeboxy "Bachelor Mansions" I stayed at in Chennai, killing the
swarming itinerant mosquitos was a fool's errand. The louvred windows
were unsealable and had no screens, so the room would only stay clear
for minutes before reinforcements arrived. Instead I huddled
uncomfortably within my mosquito net.
A mosquito net is a useful bit of kit but it has a few downsides:
despite being porous, it's degrees warmer under one than not; you need
to hang it from something, and that's not always possible (at least
without damaging walls); you need to use your bags and other belongings
to create structures to raise sections of it off your skin (just
hanging it leaves the net still in contact with limbs); and it appears
to spontaneously grow mosquito-sized holes.
A Mosquito net isn't the only tool in the fight against
sleep-disturbing mosquitoes. A fan helps if it's powerful enough,
since mosquitoes are attracted by carbon dioxide, and a fan diffuses
exhalations. The white noise that fans generate also help avoid the
need for earplugs. Di-ethyl something something something, the insect
repellent better known as DEET since noone can remember its proper
name, is somewhat effective but stops working after only a few hours.
I caught a 9 hour non-airconditioned bus from Chennai to Bangalore and
got eaten alive by mosquitoes that appeared to be under the
misapprehension that the DEET I basted myself with was some kind of
appetising sauce.
I've only been bitten a few times by bedbugs, and seen them fewer, but
I'm not sure if I like them any more than mosquitoes. On a balanced
consideration, they're much nicer parasites: they are silent, they are
rare, you can enjoy the outdoors without being harassed by them, and
most importantly they are disease free. Mosquitoes kill millions with
their malaria, dengue, and other diseases (many of them incurable);
bedbugs are just uncomfortable. Yet, there's something extremely
unpleasant about the thought of them crawling over one's sleeping form
in search of a vein, and their bites remain itchier longer than those
of mosquitoes.
Then there are the cockroaches and the rats, that pair supposedly
poised to take over the world when the nuclear conflagration occurs.
Compared with mosquitoes they appear relatively infrequently. I've
actually seen relatively few cockroaches overseas: a few in rooms, a
few scuttling out of drains, a few elsewhere. There may well be
eateries all over that (never having completed their HACCP plan) are
crawling with them, yet I've probably seen more in a comparable period
in Sydney. There are rats in darkened streets, scurrying from niche to
crack - the ability of a 4 cm high rat to run through a 2 cm gap is
rather impressive - but not a majorly visible quantity either.
I suppose that the swarms of roaming dogs that fill so many city
streets may keep the rat population suppressed; warm rat would provide
a welcome respite from their usual meal of cold garbage. I don't know
what's keeping the cockroaches in check; perhaps it's the surviving
rats. There are predators that should be keeping mosquito numbers low,
but they appear to be slacking (spiders, I'm looking at you).
Which is why, if I'm one of the lucky survivors of the nuclear
conflagration, I, for one, am prepared to offer up my veins up to our
new Mosquito Overlords.
Tags: General