The Mosquito Files

On my first foreign adventure when I was fifteen, I went to visit my penpal in France. Catherine was the niece of our longtime French tutor Frederic, and I had been corresponding with her for a year or more. Since I was still technically underage, dad insisted that my older sister accompany me. We laid over in Paris for a few days to visit the city, then set off for Bordeaux by train from the Gare du Nord.

Catherine was about three years older than I was and by that time had started college. However, she was still living under her parents’ roof and was thereby bound to abide by their rules. Overnights away with her boyfriend were strictly forbidden. So, Catherine hatched a plan to meet up with him clandestinely… and we were her cover.

After family dinner at the restaurant, we packed into her little orange VW and we headed off. To what or where, I didn’t know. To me it was but a grand adventure, and my trusty, beautiful and fun penpal was at the helm. Little did I know I was being played like a fine French accordion on a warm summer evening.

Day turned to night by the time we got to the beach. Not only was it dark, it was cold and the wind had picked up. She parked off the road and led us through the tall grasses and over the dunes to two very small pup tents that were obviously set up earlier in the season. How often did she do this?

The tents were outfitted with sleeping bags and a flashlight. I was confused. She bid us adieu and quickly split to the warm, comfortable beach house behind us to meet up with Jean-Pierre for a night of wild abandon. Freezing and bewildered, I ducked inside the pup tent. The wind blew the little tent sideways, and I buried myself as quickly as I could in the sleeping bag, still fully clothed.

I came to understand in short order that I was not the only one in the tent. There were many, many mosquitoes that had already made that little tent their own long before I got there, and by now they were really hungry. I barely slept that night.

When Catherine finally came to rescue us the next morning, she looked happy and well rested. Her long blonde hair glistened. The winds had died down and the gulls and pelicans skidded over the water. It was another perfect day in paradise. I emerged from the tent and squinted into the morning sun, face swollen and itchy, looking forward to our next adventure.