Don't mess with Budda

Early this morning the M/V Explorer made it's way up the Saigon River with little room for error. It's a narrow and shallow river so navigating this beast past fishing junks and tankers is no easy task. Neither is documenting all the amazing places to see and do in Ho Chi Minh City. I started with 40 students on a 4-hour tour of several temples and churches today. First we stopped at a quiet mosque, then the blessed Notre Dame Cathedral then several pagodas. The first pagoda looked dark and dreary and after being in beautiful Bagan, I was not impressive. I left the camera on the bus and walked around, poking fun at the neon Budda surrounded by plastic kitsch. No sooner after laughing at my own sarcasm, I was attacked by an infestation of red ants. Either I stepped on an ant farm or the Gods above were getting back at my dark humor. What felt like hundreds of insects made their way into my shirt, shoes, pants and hair. Biting and scratching at my skin as I flared my arms around like I was going into a seizure. I couldn't take it, I ripped my shoes off, tore my shirt over my head and threw my fanny pack to the ground. Students helped kill the miserable little creatures and blocked me from Vietnamese voyeurism. Just imagine what it must have looked like to a barefoot Buddhist meditating while a frantic white American stripped clean. Oh, how Embarrassed was I. Seriously, I can't make this stuff up. There are witnesses that can attest to my humiliation. Following the affair, I pulled the guide aside and insisted he apologize for not warning us about red ants in Vietnam. "Red ants? red ants? I've never seen a red ant?" said the tour operator. I stared at him in disbelief. So it really was Budda...