This passage from Ian Frazier's two part travelogue recently published in the New Yorker describing his road trip across Siberia made me gag. He describes the maddening onslaught of the ubquitous Siberian mosquito swarms (the bolded text below is mine):
As Volodya cooked meals on the propane stove, mosquitoes attracted by the rising vapors flew over the pot, swooned from the heat, and fell in. When we ate our oatmeal in the morning, there were often a few mosquito bodies in it. Most of them we just ate, but sometimes there were ones that had bitten somebody and were full of blood...
Barf.
Ian Frazier also narrates his sketches from the trip at the New Yorker online.