When mozzies (mosquitoes) bite, we fight back.

Before leaving for India, I went to REI and spent about $20 on insect repellent. I haven't used a drop. Claudia will be inheriting all of it; apparently, she's the only insect repellent I need.

Morning after morning, she wakes up with a new crop of bug bites. DustyShoes and her parents — among their many other kindnesses — gave us lotion to treat them, and so far she's been not scratching, though she still gets a few new ones here and there. On the other hand, I got my first bite the other day. I'm guessing the garlic and chili sauce in my blood sends the mozzies away for fear of their lives. Or maybe Indian mozzies like girls more than they like boys. Who knows.

Claudia and I have taken the offensive though. Yesterday morning in the Ajantha Guesthouse (on Beach Road in Pondicherry), we went on a full assault for any mozzie we saw. Towels snapped, hands clapped, and one after another, the little bastards fell dead and crushed. Like the Red Baron with his dogfight kills from World War I, we've decided to start marking off our kills, as a warning to the mozzie population. Current score:

Anthony, 6
Claudia, 3

Take that, you tossers. The battle has not been without some disgusting moments though. I prefer the hand clap method: target the little vamp between my hands, and nail it with both palms. It's effective, but messy. One mozzy, fresh from feeding on my sweetie apparently, colored my palms red. Another mozzy — that we've dubbed the "poo-squito" was full of older, darker blood; it looked like it'd been feeding off the cow pies in the street. Ick.

In our new room at the Park Guest House though, we're on the third floor (2nd floor, if you're not a Yank). No mozzies. But still we train diligently. No mosquito will be safe. No mosquito will be spared, until our veins can pump in peace.