Rode hard into a typhoon for several days. Couldn’t see five feet in front of their faces, but they drove the herd till we found some new country to pasture ‘em in. They grill their fish over charcoal and serve it with pickled plums in these parts. Didn’t think we’d like it, but boy howdy do we. Give our best to ma and pa and cousin Tim. All’s well out west! Err.. East?