Eating the eaters

I just saw a program about a fish farmer in Africa who has helped to bring the problem of malaria under control. He raises carp in his ponds, and the baby carp fill themselves with mosquito larvae. This has reduced the mosquito population to such a low level that malaria is virtually no longer a problem. I have to commend the farmer on his entrepreneurialism. Anyone who can get the upper hand on mosquitoes is worthy of being beknighted.

I could have used the fellow’s help when I was in Venice last week. Every night, one or more mosquitoes would show up and pester us while sleeping. We slept with the windows open because the hotel had not yet put their air conditioning service into operation for the busy season. Fortunately, the nights were cool enough that an open window made for cool and pleasant sleeping, except for the mosquitoes. By the time I got home, I had mosquito bites on my forearms and face, which were the only parts of my body exposed from under my sheets and covers. The mosquitoes went to work on them. I tried to sleep with all of my body, including my hands and face, under the sheet, but I inevitably exposed some parts regardless how hard I tried not to. So now I look like I have a rash all over my face and my forearms. Next time, I suggest that the hotel set up a small carp pond in their garden. The carp will quickly grow fat from an ample supply of mosquitoes and larvae, just the thing to put on a restaurant menu. That way, the cycle is complete.

6 5 4 3 2....

Hurray! I’m packed! For some reason, it didn’t seem so difficult this time. Perhaps that’s because I gave myself an entire day to get the job done. Usually, I wait until the last minute and then frantically try to put together what I need. This time, I just made it a simple, easy task, or at least a sequence of simple, easy tasks.

One thing I’ve learned over the years is just to pare down the contents of my suitcase to the bare minimum. Once on the road, I rarely miss the niceties that I could have loaded into the suitcase, but then things get so complicated and problematic for me and everyone else. Besides, lugging around a heavy suitcase is just something that a rational person should know better.

Now I can sleep well tonight and then, tomorrow, when the time comes, hail a cab to the airport. Sure, that’s a luxury, but it is also a good step to ensure that the last few minutes before the flight leaves are spent waiting to load the plane, not rushing through the airport to try to catch it before it leaves. I love it when things go as planned!

Sudsy

Sometimes life can be so simple. Take washing clothes, for example. It is a chore that I dread worse than about anything. So I put it off, put it off, put it off, until one day, I suddenly do it. It is always unplanned. No regular wash day for me. I just do it when the spirit hits me. And you know what? It suddenly isn’t as dreadful as I had imagined. It’s all very routine.

And sometimes it can be rewarding in a twisted sort of way. For example, my last dog died over three years ago, yet I still find some of their hairs on my clothes. And they are stubborn about being removed. And even if I do remove them, they seem to creep back in somehow. Yet the thought is somehow sort of comforting, and the hairs bring back lots of wonderful memories of chasing rabbits, digging holes under fences, and the terror of getting a dog bath.

Now that is a wash job that was genuinely dreaded and hated. It seemed to be equivalent to putting the poor little animals in a death trap. And they did their very best to escape it. They dreaded it from the beginning until the very last suds were washed down the drain. Yet, afterwards, life seemed more exciting than ever. They ran around and around, wallowed on blankets, the sofa, the bed, anywhere they could find a piece of dry cloth, which also included the pile of clothes that needed to be washed. By the time the dogs had distributed the pile of clothes all over the pantry, I suddenly lost my dread of washing those very clothes. I simply put them in the washer, poured some detergent in, and let ‘em go. Yes, it is all that simple.

Of Soles and Popes

Pretty soon, two youngish ladies will pack their bags, board the plane, and fly to the land of colloseums and cappuccinos. They better bring comfortable sneakers because the best way to get around is by using your own two feet. Personally, I think I will take a taxi. They need the business.

The two ladies will find temptation waiting for them on every city block. All types of temptations, some for your mouth, some for your body. Fashion is all-important here. Looking good is a way of life. After all, the city of Milan is only a few hours a way.

And not too far away awaits the pope and the lovely St. Peter’s dome. From the outside, it all looks so easy. Just look and see. But if you want to get the best view of all, be prepared to hike up several hundred steps, some through narrow passageways. Only the determined and fit can meet this challenge.

While this is happening, I will take the opposite direction into the church cellar. The bodies of lots of former popes lay there in waiting, a trip through history, a lot of it filled with intrigue and politics. Some popes led very discussion-worthy lives. But I will try not to bore the two ladies with all this trivia. Instead, they will get the chance to stand exactly where Julius Caesar did before he met his fate. So make sure to pack some sturdy sneakers!