Ahhh! What better way to party on the weekend than to not party at all. I gave up the tempting selection of top international DJs for a round of gin and tonics at some of the most chilled out bars in town. Just me and the mozzies, or so I thought.

Wild Oats has become my usual hangout joint, the place I head to when I can’t take any more 130bpm bass, blinding laser works, and sweaty partygoers. Don’t get me wrong; I’m certainly not complaining; I love electronic dance music to death but I figure I won’t love it that much if I go deaf. So thus, the getaway … or so I thought. The bar is surrounded by lush greenery, plays soft Cuban jazz in the background and has an unending supply of gin; the perfect tonic to my regular schedule. But just like any bar, there are other people there, and because of the nature of my work I’ve met most of them before. And when I start swatting mozzies around my head, they all think I’m waving a “hello.” Awkward.

At other times, I go to Liquid Kitchen, a friendly neighborhood bar around my area. But unfortunately, here’s where I meet neighbors, whose coach potato lifestyle means they just want to debate what they’ve seen on the news, since they’ve barely left their houses. They try to start a debate, but what do I know about Madagascan mutineers? I offer a smile; then start waving at invisible mozzies, hoping they’ll abandon me to my madness.

Even at Muddy Murphy’s out on the East Coast, I can’t find peace and quiet. I go there expecting to chill out with a beer in hand, but instead find all the other solo drinkers looking to chat. Do I want to learn about business and banking? No I do not. In fact, I think I’m ready to retreat back into the white noise comfort of some hard techno. At least in Zirca, no one can hear you scream.