As a Minnesotan, I’m no stranger to mosquitos. They seem to love me. No difference here in Hong Kong.
I get bites daily, even when we have our windows closed, they somehow find a way in and then find me. My fella has no bites. I just don’t get how that is even possible. I have so many that if they were red, I would look like I have chicken pox. The other day one got me good– smack dab in the middle of my forehead, as if I had a bulls-eye pasted to my face.
The word for Mosquito is “Man”. Say “Mahn”.
Because I have so many, I’m always scratching. I can’t help it. So Rob is always telling me “Ng Ho” (say Mm Ho) which means “Don’t”.* That literally translates to “No Good”.
To combat these little suckers, I’m now wearing a lovely new perfume scent of Off Deep Woods.
*We don’t actually speak Cantonese to each other. He isn’t saying “Ng Ho”, he is saying “Don’t”. Sorry for the lie.