The rain is coming down in great buckets now, the wind scattering the walls of water into blinding spray. The rivers are overflowing, the streets are flooded, the mountains are falling into great soggy heaps on the road and roof tiles litter the streets. The farmers are at home praying for the gods to spare their crop and not even the stick-wavers are working. Its typhoon time here in Kochi and the only thing on TV is people chasing umbrellas.

This is the big one and we've been waiting for three days. The first we heard it was supposed to arrive Friday night, then Saturday morning, then early Sunday. Finally its here.

Every town in Kochi cancelled its fall festival. No fireworks this year I'm afraid. Yesterday we drove down to the ocean to watch the surfers carving the hell out of five meter waves. It was impressive and dangerous. I watched one surfer walk into the ocean only to be spit out five minutes later, exhausted as a rat in a rainbarrel. Luckily she got out in one piece.

My work was going to send me home early, but for some reason here I am, watching the bamboo buckle in the breeze. I hope the little road home is OK. I might have to go around, through Tosa and up Ino way back to Sakawa. Better safe than sorry, right?