At the mere mention of ‘Fiji’ and ‘Vanuatu,’ visions of coconuts, sparkling blue water, and smiling islanders arise like heat from golden sands. Tourists gliding languidly through the shallows with bronzed skin and not a care in the world. Said skin is smooth. Unbitten. Unbitten in mosquito-infested countries.

I pride myself on the fact that I am a mosquito’s last port of call. They land on stones before they land on me. I’ve been to countless malarious areas and walked away unscathed. So why – oh why – would bed bugs find me so delicious in Fiji? Actually, I’m not so sure that they were in fact bed bugs; they could have just been fleas, or some other disgusting insect. The point is, they bit me in a tropical paradise and I was not amused.

You know when people say, “‘Night-night… don’t let the bed bugs bite!” How can one do that? I mean, I know you can spray the bed with insecticide or spray yourself with repellent, but that seems less polite than the friendly petition, “don’t let.” It’s not as if I can wake up and talk to the bed bugs as if they were a Wallace and Gromit creation. Look down on them with a kindly Snow White face and charmingly admonishing finger saying, “Now, don’t bite, my dears.” They’re fecking BUGS! Don’t let them bite, my arse. Actually, no, I won’t let them bite that. It’s prize winning, it is.

Cut to Kiribati–white sand, blue lagoon – three weeks later: Fijian fleabites all healed and I’m ready to bare some skin in the sun on the weekend and the tropical bugs strike again. Only this time, they were invisible. They’re very cunning. One night in the Lagoon Breeze hotel and I’ve been bitten (and not in a good way). To add insult to serious injury, I was later told that the perpetrators were actually sand flies. Insects arising from the beauteous beaches to torture the innocent Australian visitor.

I’m telling it to you straight: this is the other side to the tropical islands paradise. There are bugs, and they’re waiting for you. Don’t be fooled by the idyllic idea of a sun-drenched Elysium. It has bite marks all over it. First, they tell you not to bare your skin because of the suns deadly rays, now I’m telling you to cover up for fear of a bit of temporary skin blemish. But this is reality, kid: this is the great outdoors.

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Matt Gibbs

An aid worker by training, but a show-off by nature, Matt has been a bit of a nomad; working in Papua New Guinea, Sudan, Sweden, Kenya, a handful of Pacific Island States and Ethiopia – in addition to his native Australia – for the past six and a half years. Matt is currently penning children’s books with his writing partner and deciding whether his nomadic lifestyle should be thrown in for some nesting…

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