Ho Chi Minh City: Capitalism Meets Communism

The formerly-named city of Saigon is a sprawling mass of two- and three-story buildings jammed one against the other, stretching from the Mekong Delta in the south to the Cambodian border in the north. As the southern river-striding metropolis of this 1600 km long country that lies alongside the China Sea, HCMC as it is known is an epicenter of the post-1986 Vietnam, when the single-party Communist state agreed to embark on the economic experiment known locally as doi moi.


In many respects, HCMC resembles a very young Bangkok, lacking only the omnipresent skyscapers and a mass transportation system. For transportation, the 8.3 million residents of HCMC rely on 4 million scooters -- making for a continuous din of high-pitched horn beeps, brake squeals, and lawnmower engine-like rev-ups and rev-downs.

When crossing these streets, one simply steps out slowly, and walks deliberately, without hesitation, and trusts the scooters to part, Red Sea-like, and permit the pedestrian to cross safely. It takes some getting used to.

The scooters are everywhere, and, without exaggeration, traffic laws all boil down to this: drive slow enough to react to anything, but fast enough to not lose balance. Traffic lights are virtually non-existent, and each intersection, viewed from above, would resemble two streams of motorized dots crossing each other at right angles, continuously, and without discernible pause. Bikes think nothing of driving against traffic, and onto sidewalks, and alongside speeding buses and taxis, which themselves navigate through, against, and across the waves of bikes without hesitation.

The Year of the Cat, in neon.

We arrived in Vietnam a few days ago, having timed our visit to coincide with Tet, the lunar new year, and Vietnam's Christmas-Thanksggiving-and-New Year rolled up into one massive celebration. We are staying in the Chinatown district of HCMC, about 5 km from the old center of Saigon, and the preparations here border on the the maniacal. Stores, houses, and hotels are dressing themselves up with red wall coverings and gold lettering, along with with blooming plants and trees of all varieties. Like Bangkok, HCMC relies on river commerce, and we chanced upon the barges that move the Tet-celebrating trees and flowers up from the Mekong Delta.

Vietnam is also a country that has taken care not to forget the wars with France and the United States that spanned the 1950s-1970s. We visited three museums: the HCMC City Museum, which is housed in the building that served as the war-deposed/killed President of then-South Vietnam; the now-named Reunification Building, which served as the Presidential Palace until its gates were broken down by North Vietnamese tanks on April 30, 1975, and the War Remnants Museum, which houses both materials and often gruesome photographs of the war's impact on the citizens and countryside of Vietnam.

Celebrating the tanks entering the grounds of the Presidential Palace in April 1975

In the former Presidential Palace, we were struck by the side door in the President's private office that led directly down five flights to a bomb cellar -- possibly used when the palace was bombed by a renegade and now-venerated South Vietnamese pilot who bombed the palace on April 8, 1975 -- a full three weeks before the city actually fell.

Note the Chevrolet SUV in the back -- no hard feelings!

It's clear that the winners get to write the history, and that certain features of the war and its aftermath are conspicuously missing, but it's also clear, even if in retrospect, that this was a war that neither France nor the US could have ever won ... unless one considers the current economic state of Vietnam, and one realizes that while a one-party state, with limited freedom of expression, no real voting, etc., the economy of Vietnam resembles that of any free country in the world. Later, we will visit Ha Noi, the capital of Vietnam and, then, the center of the North's ultimately successful effort to conquer/unify the South with the North.

Clearly, capitalist opulence CAN co-exist with the red-banners of communism

Images of Thailand

After returning from Khorat, we stayed in a remarkably-well-run and comfortable hostel in the center of Bangkok. There, at the aptly-named British ex-pat bar, The Pickled Liver, we ran into some U.S. Embassy staff and British IT entrepreneurs, and played a few games of a local card game called 22 ... suffice it to say that the game was won by the person who invented it ... no money was lost.

Below, some parting images of Bangkok:

Every train station had a policeman on the platform, and every policeman wore a mask against the sooty air.

Monks are everywhere in Thailand, where most young men are encouraged to enter a temple for a few years to bring good luck to their families; seats on the buses and ferries are reserved for the monks, who depend on charity.

Bangkok sits astride a river, and transport takes many forms, from ferries to smaller boats like this. That's probably an automobile's 6-cylinder engine, driving a prop at the end of a drive shaft.

They love their king in Thailand, and expressing the sentiment on clothing, posters, and billboards is par for the course.

Women can also become "nuns," but do not enjoy as high of a status as monks. Here, three walk down a stall-lined street.

There are market stalls on every square inch of Bangkok sidewalks, many selling shirts, shoes, and, as noted in an earlier post, plastic objects. Here's a typical display. Imagine these, wall-to-wall, for blocks and blocks and blocks, with just a meter or so of passerby space to walk.

If it's not clothes, shoes, or plastic items, it's food. Here's a food stand of banana leaf-wrapped delicacies, cooked over charcoal.

Visiting the Thailand Countryside

A few days in Bangkok was enough to remind us of why we love sailing. With 6 million people bustling and hustling around the proverbial clock, and a steady din of car horns, vendor calls, and the constant drone of a city in constant vibration, we were ready to take a bus to the city of Khorat, about 3 hours northwest of Bangkok, and labeled the gateway to Thailand's first national park: Khao Yai. Thailand is just getting the hang of these national parks, and like many of the US parks, this one's entrance is lined with souvenir shops, theme parks, and restaurants. Once inside, though, it fulfills its promise as one of Southeast Asia's largest intact monsoon rain forests. It being the dry season, however, we were not in need of umbrellas.

We hired a car for the day ($50 with driver), and visited the park in the morning; by the time we arrived, the dawn feeding time at large mammals' various salt licks and waterholes had passed, so our views were limited to the geography and the occasional pig-tailed macques. The gibbons -- the park's most famous apes -- were audible but not visible. There are also a number of waterfalls and streams that cross the park; the air was cool, and mercifully, aside from the howls of animals, the park was quiet.

On the way back to Khorat, we passed by one of the the province's other major attractions -- the silk-weaving center of Pak Thong Chai. While much of Thailand's silk exports are machine produced, the hand-woven silk of Pak Thong Chai is much prized. We visited one of the weaving centers, and aside from the sheer tedium of weaving on wooden looms, the overwhelming impression was that of how single strands of seemingly-invisible silk can be woven into fiercely durable fabrics. The complexity of the patterns was also hard to untangle, knowing that any pattern required an elaborate interchange of the threading spools that flew left-to-right at blinding speed between the foot-separated strands of silk that run up-and-down the pattern. Above, left, these up-and-down strands are carefully pulled from the single bundle of silk on the bottom left of the picture, and below right, the various colors of silk are spun off from large spools onto the threading spools. A quiet clack-clack of the bellowing looms served as the backdrop to the swoosh of the these threading spools passing back and forth, left-to-right, being woven into the fabric.

We ended our tour of the Khorat countryside with a visit to Dan Kwian, where local potters and ceramic makers turn out large wall murals of Buddhas and animal scenes for Thai homes. This local pottery is famous within Thailand, but the pieces small and light enough to ship home were far too ordinary, and the noteworthy pieces were far too heavy and large to ship home.

Spending a few days outside of Bangkok was good for our ears and noses -- even as the hustle and bustle of downtown Khorat rivaled that of the quiter neighborhoods of Bangkok. We return to Thailand's more remote provinces later this year, by boat, when we sail up the southern coast to Phuket. A few more days in Bangkok, and then on to Vietnam.

Bangkok, Thailand

The decision to visit Southeast Asia was an easy one. Once we were in the neighborhood (Australia) and had time to kill (waiting out the cyclone season), why not? We are on a 3 year voyage to circumnavigate the globe, and to experience as many cultures as we can pack in to that amount of time.

A 24 hour layover in Sydney gave us a brief taste of that city. We explored the Cremorne section which is across the harbor from the Opera House and the Botanic Gardens; just enough to make us want to come back in March when we finish a three week tour of New Zealand. We did manage to get tickets to a Handel opera then, so our return is assured.

Jon, managing our airport details, realized the past year was the longest time he'd gone without flying in his adult life. So after a 9 hour flight from Sydney, we arrived in Bangkok to a four hour time difference and a big case of jet lag. A new airport train makes getting into the city easy, but once at the end of the line, we got our first taste of negotiating a taxi without the benefit of speaking Thai. After a long ride to the wrong Marriott hotel at 1 in the morning, we finally made it to the "right" Marriott. Thankfully, Jon cashed in some of his many hotel points earned during years of business travel for a couple of nights in a nice hotel----our first stay off the boat in nearly a year, and a gentle way to ease our transition into congested Bangkok.

The next morning, we ate a breakfast of kebabs from street vendors and Jon got his introduction into the economics of Coca Cola pricing.

Headed to the premier tourist site of the Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew (royal temples), we took a circuitious route---the new Sky Train (an above ground metro that saves hours of commute time in the congested traffic) to a southern pier on the Chao Phraya River to pick up a river ferry, made famous in the James Bond movie "The Man With The Golden Gun," to head up river to the Palace and Temples. The river was full of ferries going as fast as they could, only to stop as hard as they could at the closely spaced stops. In the middle of the river, tugs pulled barge trains with as many as 6 barges each ... It wasn't quite James Bond action, but Jon took more than a few close looks as the ferry's stern broached the docks. It wasn't what you'd call a romantic boat ride; the river is quite brown, is constantly churning and is full of floating debris. But this is a traditional way of getting around the city, as it has canals as well as the Chao Phraya. From sky train to river ferry; this was our first experience of the new and modern simultaneously overlapping the old and traditional that would come to define our impressions of Bangkok.

The Grand Palace and Temples were a good introduction to modern Thai history. Founded the same year as the currenty dynasty, 1782, the grounds include more than 100 buildings and their ornateness and specifically Thai architecture cannot help but contast with the ordinary nature of everything else--much like the gigantic cathedrals with magnificant stained glass windows in Europe have endured centuries while the hovels of the local peasantry disappear within generations. Having only seen them in photos, it was interesting to see just how small the mosaic tiles are that cover most of the temples and shrines.

We got a glimpse of the Emerald Buddah (which is either jade or jasper, not emerald), but his temple was closed for an ordination ceremony for new Buddist monks. Our guide was told that 150 new monks were being ordained that day to help pray for the health of the King. His Majesty Bhumibol, the longest reigning monarch in the world, is in his eighties and is in ill health.

The king and Thai Buddism are closely intertwined and neither are to be insulted nor disrespected. Not far from the walls of the Palace and Temples is one of the largest amulet markets in the world. Stalls and stalls covering several blocks sell good luck charms, and necklace cases to house them in.  We read that they are quite popular among monks and people who have risky jobs, but given the market, it seems like every Thai could have several amulets for good luck. 

The following day was Saturday, when the weekend market at Chatuchak Park opens.  It is among one of the largest open air markets in the world.  Jon couldn't face the crowded stalls without a cup of java.  Armed with his caffine fix, and me with a diet coke, Jon and I spent four hours wading through people and stalls.  To me, at least 90% of the goods fell into the category of what Nancy Griffith calls, "cheap, unnecessary, plastic objects."  In other words, lots of tchotchkis.  There were also lots of inexpensive clothes and shoes, but for the sake of me, I couldn't imagine where all this stuff could possible go.

The quilter in me was naturally drawn to the textiles.  Thai silk is beautiful and has its own distinguishing patterns.  With Jon's help, I managed to negotiate for a few tablecloths that I will make into a quilt when I get back home. 

I guess what was hard to reconcile was the quiet, calm renunciation of material goods in the Buddist faith with the reality of mass produced goods sold in thousands of stalls on a hundred acres of land in northern Bangkok.  The hustle for the almighy Baht (Thai currency) is constant and, outside the market, the taxis and tuk-tuks keep up the pressure to part you with your money.  Here, Ronald McDonald demonstrates what I am trying to convey; the ubiquitous hamburger chain's symbol welcomes his guests in the traditional Thai manner, the wai, a prayer-like gesture with the palms together.

[N.B.  Posted by Jennifer on Jon's account.

Simultaneity

Woody Allen is credited with saying that "Time is nature's way of keeping everything from happening at once."  Our land travels in Southeast Asia, on the heels of our sailing adventures across the Pacific, seem to put the lie to this sentiment.  My overwhelming sensation here in Thailand -- both in Bangkok, and now, in the provincial capital of Khorat, is that everything, in fact, does happen at once:  vibrantly-colored buses, overhead SkyTrains, cars, taxis, pushcarts, tuk-tuks, pedestrians, street vendors, monks, and uniforms of every shade of tan all seem to move, Brownian-like, in a steady and simultaneous sea down clean-swept, soot-blackened streets, all at once, somehow managing to avoid collision.

As we weave in and out of these crowds, carried along as much as making our own way, I recall the dusty path in Tonga, where a woman was walking home after mass; the young couple starting their dive business in Taha, bringing along their toddler with his own mask and fins; the soccer-story-telling guide on the Galapagos island of Isabela, and his frequently-professed love for his adopted island home; the disheveled Volvo mechanic in Tahiti, who fixed our engine; the uninhabited and landless atoll Beveridge Reef, with its circle of breaking Pacific swells; the sea cucumber fishermen of the Ha'apai group; the musician-sculptors of Fatu Hiva -- I recall each of these, and it's plain to me that, contrary to Woddy Allen's adage, in fact everything DOES happen at once, and that time matters only in the place it is measured.  In physics, this is the frame of reference made famous by Einstein's train station thought experiments -- to the passenger, the station is moving, and to the stationmaster, the train is moving. 

If we live in one place, if we see only one place, if we organize our perspective around one place, then only one thing happens at a time, but that's not the way of the world, or, as it turns out, the universe. Everyone sees the world around him or her move; the observer is stationary, and is challenged to consider an alternate view of the world.  For me, traveling by sea and land, it's been only slightly less of a challenge to consider these alternate views than if I were in one city, at one job, with one perspective.  For me, this nugget -- multiple frames of reference, each valid, each present at the same time -- has been worth exploring. 

Adopting a more scientific perspective, the physicist and cosmologist Stephen Hawking recently wrote of this phenomenon in his book The Grand Design.  In it, he explains in clear language that the cosmos does not have just a single existence, or history, but rather that every possible history of the universe exists simultaneously.  We humans like to think that we are unique, but he makes the case that we have organized our thinking to make this centric perspective the (too) easy explanation.  In fact, modern quantum theory points to an infinite number of parallel universes, each with its own reality, formulas, and, anthropomorphically, its own creatures.

Our travels across 40% of this globe have barely touched on the variety of cultures and geographies -- we're on a boat-borne journey, and harbors and seasides have a certain sameness of being.  Traveling inland into Thailand has been a signal shift in our perspective -- here, peoples exist apart from the ocean and thoughts of boats, fish, and sailors, and here, it's clear that as we sail on a small boat across a big ocean, in our own reality, measuring time by the movement of stars across a night sky, other realities exist at the same time, in other universes, moving to their own calendars.  This simultaneity of existence is a hard idea to hold on to for me; like many of us, I spend most of my mental energy thinking about me and my immediate space:  my wife and partner, my boat, the next wave, the approaching cloudline.  Finding the space to hold the image of a Tongan mother or a Thai tuk-tuk driver for more than a few seconds is impossible for me.  It's only when I reflect on the phenomena of simultaneity that I can grasp the insight that eludes me constantly:  everything is happening at once, at the same time, everywhere, and if only we perceived the connections between these simultaneous events, we could move with greater wisdom through the universes -- the frames of reference -- of our own creation.

One of the many blessings I've enjoyed on this journey has been the time and space to read books.  I read my share of murder mysteries and the like, but through the miracles of book swaps and Kindle, I have managed to read some pretty interesting books, several of which touch on this concept of simultaneity.  One author, David Mitchell, embraces the concept artfully in his books Ghostwritten and Cloud Atlas where, in each, he crafts a series of stories connected in the most tangential of ways to create a multi-location (Ghostwritten) and multi-generational (Cloud Atlas) plot line where seemingly-disconnected lives and events combine to form compelling stories of individual choices, lives, and consequences.  Another author, William Gibson (Pattern Recognition (2003), Spook Country (2007) and Zero History (2010), examines the economic and cultural consequences of 21st century capitalism, and writes beautifully about a world connected neurally through the internet even as people struggle to maintain a balance between local culture and global awareness.

In one, the author explores the concept of connectedness; in the other, the struggle between connectedness and a manageable frame of reference.  One is essentially optimistic; the other, pessimistic.  I'm not sure whether attaching a value to the concepts is helpful, but internalizing the concepts as I travel across different cultures is surely helpful.

In Thailand, I've felt both phenomena: awareness of how my life has connected lives in remote islands in the South Pacific with lives in urban Bangkok, as well as the tension between "thinking globally and acting locally."  We've been here less than a week, and we've got three more weeks in Vietnam before returning to Australia, but already, I'm really glad we came here.  Sometimes it's not the journey itself, but the changing destinations -- the repeated reminder of different frames of reference operating simultaneously -- that yields the learning.

The Price of Coke

One of the more rude awakenings upon arriving in Cairns was to discover that prices in Australia approach the ridiculous.  A 12 oz. (325ml) can of Coke -- that might go for a dollar or so at a convenience store in the US -- was running about $2.50 in Cairns.  The cheapest lunch out -- a sandwich -- would run about $10.  Now, the Australian dollar has appreciated over the past year -- more people want to invest in Oz, so the price of an Aussie dollar goes up -- from about 75 US cents for an Aussie dollar to the current 1-for-1 deal, so that explains a bit of the pricing weirdness, but not all.  A paperback book in Oz costs over $30.  Magazines are between $10 and $15.  A 5km (3 miles) taxi ride costs $12.  What gives?

Last night, this morning, we arrived in Bangkok.  The prices seem equally out of whack, but in the opposite direction.  A 12 oz. can of soda costs 30 cents.  A hot lunch for two set us back $4.  A 30 minute taxi ride of over 8 km cost us a whopping $3.  What gives?  Subsidies?  Supply and demand?  Cartel vs. competition?  If it wasn't so stark a contrast, I wouldn't have mentioned it , but its hard to fathom.  And speaking of contrasts ....

Bangkok is a big city, laced with canals and divided by a large, brown, ferry-rich river.  The skyscrapers,  lurching upward from shacks and tin roofed shops huddled on dry patches, scream "new money," even as they shadow 200-year-old gold-leafed temples adorned with thousands of glittering tiles.  Every street teems with new cars, gaudy buses, lit taxis, and the ubiquitous tuk-tuks, three-wheeled motorcycles that have a canopied seat for two short passengers .. sort of a Thai version of a surrey with a fringe on top.

We visited the Royal Palace, and had a nice guide who explained the symbology of demon guards, snakes, eagles, and the various adornments and enhancements introduced by the nine Kings of Siam./Thailand since Bangkok's founding in 1782.  More later, as we're exhausted, but the notion of contrasts -- first encountered in the pricing structure of Cokes -- will deserve some more thought, as we explore a city of 6 million people, skyscrapers, SkyTrains, the timeless wheels of river-shaped commerce, and a polyglot of Buddhist religious history.  It's different than any island we've been at, and my first night off the boat in about a year was a useful reminder that it's a big world, and efforts to explain variation and differences often result in a "what gives?" kind of sentiment.  Observe, accept, wonder, and maybe, if we're lucky, understand.

SE Asia Bound! New Zealand Bound!

Tomorrow, January 19, Jennifer and I leave the muggy harbor of Cairns and head north of the equator to Bangkok, Thailand for a week of urban relaxation and excess, and then, from there, we head off for three weeks in Vietnam.  Our Vietnam visit coincides with Tet, the new year celebration, and we will be spending a week in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon) before flying north to Ha Noi, and then taking trains and buses down the 1700 km length of the world's 13th most populous country.

After our trip north, we return briefly to Cairns to make sure everything is OK with our boat, and then we spend three weeks in a camper van touring the North and South Islands of New Zealand.

We'll post when we can; we're traveling light and will be in remote places, so please bear with us.

Hope all are well back home -- cards and letters from our friends are always welcome!

Christmas in Cairns -- Pictures

We were blessed with a visit from our two children, David and Kate, over the holidays, who were joined by David's fiance, Marisa, and Kate's boyfriend, Dustin.  A Christmas eve cyclone that passed just south of us dampened the streets, but not our spirits.  We went diving, visited a crocodile farm, spent time with my cousin Danielle and her husband Dave, and toured the rainforests ... Cairns is a great location to see a lot of what Australia has to offer, but it's a HUGE country, and we've only just scratched the surface of this land down under.  Here are some pics:

Danielle's Family, at her lovely home.  Little Adam, and moving clockwise, Marisa, Jon, Kate, Dustin, Dave G, Dave C (Danielle's husband), and Danielle

Feeding the crocs -- we can't swim around our boat because of the crocs ... 

Marisa and David, underwater at the Great Barrier Reef

Leaving on our dive trip:  Kate in foreground, and in rear, L to R, Jennifer, David, Marisa, Jon, and Dustin

Mom and daughter

Kate chasing a turtle, diving the Great Barrier Reef

The ile de Grace Christmas Tree.  Tree courtesy of Danielle, ornaments sailed 11,000 miles from our home in Bethesda!

A koala bear, because we need more cute in the world

Visiting a massive fig tree in the rainforest -- Jennifer, Jon, Kate, and David

Cheers Mate!

Help!!! We’re turning Aussie!!! Jon and I are now saying things like, “no worries,” “cheers mate,” "how you going?" and “damn mozzies.” Mozzies are mosquitoes. We have made peace (rather we’ve submitted in humble defeat) with the unbearable tropical heat of summer and don’t let it prevent us from going on with our lives. We’ve seen wild kangaroos on the side of a road and a Koala bear at the top of a Casino in downtown Cairns. We say, “Cans” when pronouncing Cairns. Apart from moments of unbearable heat and humidity when we’re not in “air con,” we are having a blast.

Most wonderful of all has been meeting up with Jon’s cousin, Danielle Perquin Christie, who lives here in Cairns with her husband Dave and their four year old son Adam, and her older children Justin and Adrienne. Though they had never met, family bonds were quickly established and we’ve all become fast friends. Danielle has given us a place to call home, driven us on boating errands and fed us more times than I can count.

Adam has taken a real shine to Jon. Though only four years old, he is an avid fisherman, swimmer and now snorkeler of the Great Barrier Reef. Here, they are kayaking off Green Island, a day sail from Cairns.

Cairns is an easy city in which to be a nomad. It’s small and full of young backpackers from Europe, Japan, and the US. Practically anything one needs can be reached on foot, and if not, it has a great public transportation system. The Public Library is nearby and we seek the refuge of air conditioning there most afternoons. We’ve got the grocery stores figured out and learned that “fly bys” are coupons and “trolleys” are carts. We joined the fitness club at the Marina hotel and are enjoying the luxury of having all the time we want to work out.

One of the best things about the city is that it has a large public pool (that’s free of charge) right in the middle of town on the bay. It’s called the Lagoon and provides respite from the heat and from all the things that can kill or seriously harm you, if you were foolish enough to swim in the harbor or inlet (such as crocs, box and iriganji jelly fish, and cone shells to name just a few).

Along either side of the Lagoon are dozens of public BBQ sites with covered tables and free propane for the grills. The whole area is kept really clean and it’s always being used. There are also free exercise classes either at the pool or in a park nearby. In addition, there is a jogging trail, children’s water park and about 2.5 kilometers of boardwalk. Spreading out from this park is the Esplanade, a street lined with outdoor cafes, pubs, ice cream and tourist shops selling cheap boomerangs and stuffed koala bears that were made in China. In the evening it’s really pleasant to walk along the water’s edge one way and come back via the lively Esplanade.

And, before returning to the dinghy dock and then to Grace, which is anchored out in the mouth of the inlet, we finish up our evening walk by listening to the colorful and lively Lorikeets preparing to roost for the night in the trees that separate the Marina from the bay, and by watching thousands of very large fruit bats head out across the inlet to the Aboriginal land of Yarrabar for their nightly feast.

From our boat, we can see the Cairns Airport, dozens of tourist boats taking hundreds of visitors out to the reef, the nearby seaplane and the local helicopter pad. It’s a happening place. But we also have a lovely view of the verdant mountains that surround us on three sides; and on the fourth side, the waters that encompass the Great Barrier Reef and lead to the Coral Sea.

It’s not a bad place to hang out while waiting for the cyclone season to pass, but in a few weeks, we’re bound for Southeast Asia by air – Thailand, Vietnam, and Cambodia for a month and then back here for a few days to check on the boat before a 2-3 week trek through New Zealand … more posts to follow, as we explore these new lands from ground level.

[N.B. We are in a part of Queensland called the Far North. Queensland is about the size of Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada and Utah combined so it is quite big, and we have been fortunate to be far from the flooding that is currently devastating southern and eastern Queensland. We had a category 1 cyclone come through just south of us on Christmas eve and Christmas Day which caused a few days of flooding, but nothing like in the south. Right now, an area about the size of France and Germany combined is underwater in what have been record breaking floods; of biblical proportions as the news outlets have been calling it. Thanks for the notes of concern, and knock on wood, we are all right.]