Monkey business

I decided after school today that I was in need of a massage.

I took my trusty iPod and went off for some shiatsu therapy, a rather sadistically pleasant form of massage that involves having a tiny Asian lady stomp around on my back for a while. Very nice.

I was practically asleep at one point, lulled by the combination of Coldplay and the capable hands of Enda, my favorite masseuse, when I felt a sharp sting on my right elbow.

I'd been bitten by a mosquito, and the spot started to itch like mad.

I sort of sat up and attempted to scratch my elbow, my mind racing for the Indonesian word for "mosquito." My brain-Google came up with nyamuk and monyet, and while one of those words does mean mosquito, the other means monkey.

"What's wrong?" Enda asked me, in Indonesian.

"A monkey bit me!" I exclaimed, also in Indonesian, semi-confident I'd said the right word.

Enda stared at me for a minute, then started giggling uncontrollably.

"Sorry! Mosquito! A mosquito bit me! No monkeys are in this room!"

Oh dear. I'm awfully glad it's Friday.