A cautionary tale of sunburn, insects and antihistamines

Umbria, Italy, 2009

Despite the punishing midday sun, we decide to walk up into the hills of Isola Maggiore.

We take the dusty track that leads upwards. It circles the tiny island and is a steep, rugged climb. We meet a few other walkers coming down the hill, and we greet each other in our native tongues.

We finally reach the summit, and the track continues its rugged journey. It twists and turns, thankfully now downhill, towards the lake.

We begin to make our way along a footpath that passes through dry olive groves. The heat is intense; everything is bone dry, the environment harsh.

Suddenly we hear the distinct, high pitched whine of mosquitoes, not just one or two but thousands of them. They fly towards us from the mangled, twisted olive trees; they can smell our blood and want to taste it.

We panic and scamper childlike along the dry path, flapping our hands over our heads. We fruitlessly try to push the swarms away; unfortunately, our frantic running only disturbs more clouds waiting in nearby trees.

The whine of thousands of microscopic wings intensifies, and we run faster.

Eventually, we manage to outpace our tormentors and make our way back down to the picturesque village below. We find a bar on an empty cobbled street and order ice cold beers.

Within a few seconds, huge wasps intent on getting drunk start to attack us. We decide that nature has won. We leave our drinks, pay the bill, and make our way to the waiting ferry.

On arriving back on the mainland, we head to the nearest chemist in search of insect repellent, antihistamines, and aftersun products.