How to Visit Siam Park Like a Pro

Siam Park is one of the top attractions in Tenerife in the Canary Islands. If you visit Tenerife, especially with children, you MUST visit Siam Park. However, there are some things you need to know if you want to avoid incredible frustration. The park doesn't have a very informative website, so we only learned by experience how to have a successful visit. I hope some people may find this post and I can spare them the disappointment we endured.

First, I'll describe our July experience, e.g. how NOT to do it. I'll start by saying that Carter and I visited the park together in October of 2017 when he was about 12 years old, and we had a wonderful time. It was crowded but not so much that we didn't get our money's worth, and Carter couldn't wait to take the rest of the family there. But when we got the chance to go in July 2022 it was completely different. 

Our first hint that we had done something wrong was that the parking lots were already full when we arrived at about 9:45, even though the park wasn't supposed to open until 10:00 a.m. By the time we found a parking spot in the mall across the street and walked back to Siam Park, the line to get in was enormous. We had pre-purchased our tickets online, but so had everyone else so it didn't save any time in the line. When we finally got in the gate, we were surprised to once again be queued in a long line. Eventually we discovered that the line was due to the fact that the park forces everyone to funnel through a staged photo area, where they take your group's picture and try to sell it to you later. This, along with the terrible lines out front, was some of the first evidence that customer experience isn't high on the list of Siam Park's priorities.

The next line we waited in was for a locker. There are several different locker areas in the park, each named for a park feature nearby. The staff will try to direct you to a specific locker area, but my advice is to ignore them. We made the mistake of changing our course to go where a staff member sent us, only to be told after waiting in line there for several minutes that they were out of lockers and we had to go somewhere else. The staff approach people in the locker line and offer to sell you locker keys. We weren't sure if this was legit or if we should keep waiting until we reached the front of the line, but we discovered that the people who continued waiting in line were waiting to purchase Fast Passes, and those who just needed a locker could buy one and get on their way. I really didn't want to pay the 50% uncharge for a Fast Pass, plus Carter and I had done just fine without one on our previous visit, so we decided to skip it and try our luck. 

Big mistake. When we finally got in line for our first ride we were shocked to see that we were standing by the "your wait time is 45 minutes from here" sign. Our excitement deflated, we inched our way to the front of the line and did our first slide, then returned to the locker area to break down and buy the fast pass. Nope - they were sold out. We thought, maybe every ride doesn't have a long line? No, the lines were just getting longer everywhere. The next ride we tried the wait time started at the 60 minute sign. My feet were killing me from standing and walking barefoot on concrete. People everywhere. Every lounge chair filled. Every path crowded. Every restaurant at capacity. It was suffocating. We lasted about 3 hours and then reluctantly decided to bail and try to salvage our day by doing something else. 

On our way out, we paid $20 each for a pass that would allow us to come back another day if we wanted to try it again. After a few days had gone by and we had recovered from the trauma of our botched visit, we decided to try it again but to do it differently this time. 

So here, dear Reader, are the tips for visiting Siam Park in the peak months with your sanity (and feet) intact:

1. The website lists 10:00 a.m. as the park opening. This is the time THE WATER TURNS ON FOR THE RIDES, NOT THE TIME THE GATES OPEN. If you arrive at 10 thinking you'll be in the front of the line, you'll find thousands of people ahead of you. Instead arrive at 9:30 or even 9:15 to park, walk to the entrance, queue for admission, queue again for the stupid photo opportunity, queue again for a locker and Fast Passes, find a lounger to set your stuff on, and be ready to ride your first ride at 10.

2. I'm sorry, to say it, but you must have a fast pass. I really hate the concept of paying to get ahead in line. It feels elitist and unfair. But if you don't have a Fast Pass during the busy season there's really no point in trying to ride the rides (you could just spend your day at the wave pool or in the lazy river). 

There's not much/any information on the website about Fast Passes, so here are the basics. It allows you to skip to the front of the line of most major rides one time each, plus a bonus ride on the ride of your choice. You can choose whether you want your Fast Pass to be valid in the first or second half of the day. During whichever half of the day you didn't choose, your pass isn't valid. You can't buy Fast Passes online ahead of time; you must queue at one of the locker houses to buy them, and they only sell a certain number per day so if you're late they'll be gone.

3. Probably you'll want to store your valuables in a locker. You can buy this in the locker house, same as the Fast Pass. Lockers are cash only, because part of the payment is a deposit that you get back in cash at the end of the day when you return your key. So make sure you bring cash. There are both large and small lockers, although they don't bother to ask you which kind you want. If you need a certain size be sure to ask for it.

4. It hurts to walk in this park! It's large and spread out so you will be walking and walking and walking on textured concrete pathways, and standing and standing in lines on textured concrete stairs. If your feet are young and padded you'll probably be okay, but I would guess most adults won't be able to tolerate it without shoes. If you have water shoes, great, you can wear them all day. If you don't, flip flops or water sandals are the next best thing. You can't wear them on the rides but you can walk around the park in them and then just kick them off at the base of the ride and pick them up after you slide down.

5. If you come with a group you will inevitably split up at some point and it may be impossible to find each other again. Come up with a specific plan on where to meet if you get separated. Alternatively, you are allowed to bring cell phones on the slides if you have them in a waterproof case that hangs around your neck. They sell these at the park for a hefty fee, but if your group wants to keep in touch during the day via phone then it would be cheaper to bring your own.

6. The closing time of 6 p.m. is when they cut you off from getting in line for another ride. So if you want to stay until the bitter end, you can still ride whatever ride you're in line for, as long as you got in line before 6.

If you come armed with this knowledge, you should be able to ride lots of rides and have a great time. The rides really are special at this place, and really long for waterslide rides. Another plus of this park is that it's really well landscaped and there's lots of shade; notably many of the lines for the rides are at least partially shaded, for which we were very grateful. Have fun, and make sure you try the Tower of Power!

Crash

I knew this day would come. I’ve been waiting for it. 

For months I have been consumed every second with what needs to be done now, with what must be finished by tonight, with what is crucial to accomplish tomorrow. I knew that when finally, finally the frantic pace slowed down, that there would be a crash.

And that was yesterday. A day when the kids were at school and Dan was back in Berlin and I was alone with all the unpacked boxes and I finally had the time and space to sit and cry. To grieve the life and the friends I have left behind. To miss them terribly. To be sad and indulge a feeling of hopelessness, just for one day. I'm not really hopeless, of course. Fort Collins is a great city and there are tons of opportunities to make friends, do fun things, have new experiences and explore the area. I know all this, and I'm hopeful that we will settle in here and love it. But that takes time, and before I can embrace the new I need to grieve the loss of the old.  

So yesterday I didn't have the energy to face any problems or decisions or to-dos. I allowed myself to mope and cry and reminisce. 

And today is a new day, and I move forward again. 

First Impressions of the USA

Yesterday was our flight to the US from Berlin, as we begin our new life back in our "home" country. Of course the US is home, but it also doesn't feel like home yet. It was strange filling out the customs form; when it asked for country of residence I had to think for a minute. Germany isn't our residence anymore, and in fact yesterday Dan went to the Burgeramt (government office) and officially deregistered us as German residents. So I put USA, since even though we don't currently reside here, we are about to. Then the passport control agent asked us "Are you guys coming home?" Again, I paused. "Um...sort of. We're moving here," I said.

1) OMG hash browns for breakfast, I am in heaven. Bottomless coffee. Man serving them called me sweetie. American breakfasts are a national treasure.

2) We are freezing! Soooooo not used to the air conditioning. Had to crank it up 10 degrees from the default setting in the room and still slept under full blankets.

3) Welcome to Colorado! Our hotel shuttle driver told us a story about feeding her mother-in-law an “edible” without telling her what was in it. It took me a minute figure out what she was talking about. She thought it was funny but I was thinking isn’t it wrong to drug someone without their consent?

4) There was no cloud of toxic smothering cigarette smoke awaiting us when we stepped out of the airport. No one was blowing smoke into the air around us while we waited for our hotel shuttle. Air that is free from second-hand smoke is one of the things I am looking the most forward to.

5) Information, noise and media is completely overwhelming. We were up early because of the time change and went down to the hotel breakfast at 6:30. All 6 (!) TVs in the large breakfast area were turned on and broadcasting sports games and news. They are set up so that at least one is visible no matter which table seat you take, and my seat allowed me to see one to my right and at the same time see another flickering in my peripheral vision to my left. The news stories change about every 40 seconds so there is constantly something new to see, and if you look away you will feel like you are missing a story. Right at 7:00 the hotel switched on the piped in music as well, just in case we needed extra entertaining. Despite my enjoyment of my coffee and hash browns, I was pining for a quiet Berlin cafe with only the sounds of coffee cups clinking their saucers and muted conversation.

There was an in-depth story on the news about kneeling during the national anthem in the NFL. I asked the kids what they knew about this topic. I and we haven't followed US news as closely in the last couple of years, so I figured now was a good time to start familiarizing ourselves with the topics we will start to hear a lot about. I tried to have a conversation with the kids, but each was staring at a different TV screen and when I would ask a question they would try to pull their eyes away from the screen but just couldn't maintain their focus on me or what I was asking when the TV was right there pulling them in. I made a mental note to avoid restaurants with TVs unless we are specifically going for the purpose of watching a game. I want mealtimes to be focused on conversation.

6) It's going to take a while to get used to communicating easily with people. Talking to the customs officers, calling the hotel to arrange the shuttle, checking in at the front desk, ordering breakfast in the morning - these are all things that I would normally do in German. While my German is good enough to accomplish the task, it takes an extra level of brain power to summon the words and there's always a slight hesitation before engaging in a conversation, e.g. do I really need that omelet or would it be easier to just grab a croissant so I don't have to engage with someone in German? It feels both freeing and strangely boring to be able to say whatever I want and have people understand it.

Harvey

Before

During

On Saturday August 26th I got an email from my Mom with the subject "Harvey update". It read:

We got about 1 inch of rain here yesterday and about 3 inches overnight. It stopped around 7:00 this morning, and the sun is out here (10:15). Of course we will continue to watch the coverage closely, because they change things every hour or so. But right now, it looks like they expect the storm to take a more northerly path, which would put it closer to Austin! I told John (my brother) to keep an eye on it. He said they got some rain overnight, but that it isn’t raining there now, either. There are rain bands coming through Houston, but most of it is on the east side of town, and, for now, it looks like that will continue to be the case. So, definitely, some people are getting way more rain than they want, but not here – so far.
...But, again, Dad and I don’t anticipate any big problems here. I hope we are right! We will try to keep you posted. But, in the meantime, don’t worry!

I grew up with hurricanes. We lived first in Louisiana, then on the Gulf Coast of Alabama, and finally in Houston. When we lived in Mobile, AL it seemed like at least once every year we filled the bathtubs with water, taped up the windows and hunkered down, but the storm always hit somewhere else. Once I remember we left and went towards Mississippi, where my Dad was playing in a golf tournament, but then the storm changed course and headed there and we moved again, trying to stay out of its path. Hurricanes are notoriously unpredictable and each one is different, but in all of my life I have never been the one who was in the final path. So I dismissed Mom's email as just another false alarm, just another time that the news media stirs up a frenzy over nothing.

But then the rain came and it didn't stop.

My Dad woke up in the wee hours of the morning of Sunday August 27th and stepped into water in the bedroom. He woke up my mom and they began raising things up. They took things off low shelves and put them on high shelves. They took things from the floor and put them on top of tables. Once, 15 or 20 years ago, they had water in their home - a few inches. That was before the city spent millions of dollars digging out huge retaining pits next to the bayou across the street and there had never been a scare since. So raising things up a little seemed like a reasonable thing to do.

But the water continued to rise. By Sunday evening my parents, in their mid-late seventies, were wading through waist-deep water in the first floor of their home, making trip after trip up the stairs trying to move some things up to what they hoped would be the safety of the second floor. The things they had moved up on top of tables were now underwater. Still, they planned to stay in the house. Others on the street had evacuated by boat, but my parents had some snacks and water upstairs and hoped to ride it out. The turning point came when they heard that the army corps of engineers was going to begin releasing water from the dams, and this would cause the bayou to rise further and potentially cause greater flooding. When a neighbor with an airboat came by, my parents took their wallets, phones and a change of clothes, made their way past floating appliances to the front door, and got on the boat.

Both cars were submerged in the driveway and re-emerged
when the water receded

I can't imagine the shock, the disbelief, as your home fills with muddy water. I read articles about the strange things people did or didn't grab as they hurriedly evacuated their house. My Dad didn't bring his medicines. He got his phone but not the charger. They only brought one change of clothes. But who can blame them? It was shocking. They couldn't have imagined that the water would rise to six feet and would stay in their home for two full weeks.

My parents spent the next 10 days with my cousin in Houston whose house didn't flood. Thank God they had a home to go to and didn't have to be in a shelter. I spent the next 10 days here in Berlin obsessively following the news and reading about disaster recovery. It was like cramming for a final in a course I never took. I studied manuals on home demolition, read FEMA pamphlets on mold remediation, watched YouTube videos on salvaging books, photos, artwork and furniture after a flood. I kept close tabs on the US Geological Survey website, which displays current water levels for Buffalo Bayou at certain measurement points, and I tried to predict when the water would go down in the house. I agonized over the right time to buy my ticket and head to Houston to help: go too early and I would just be sitting around, unable to enter the house due to high water; go too late and I would miss the critical first 24-48 hours after the water leaves but before mold sets in on anything that was wet. On Amazon I ordered waders, safety goggles and pond gloves (didn't know this existed previously - shoulder length gloves) for staying out of the contaminated water. I bought art brushes, clotheslines and absorbent cloths for cleaning and drying photos and keepsakes. And I waited.

The water receded from inside the house on the 9th, but my
brothers still needed a canoe to get down the street to the house 

On September 11 I flew to Houston. It turns out I was two days late. The water, which had been receding just a few inches a day, suddenly dropped several feet and was gone on the 9th. I didn't need my waders. But the amount of work to do was overwhelming, so it didn't matter much that I hadn't been there on the first day of dryness.

Measuring the high water mark in the back of the house

I won't give a day-by-day account of what we did for the 2 1/2 weeks I was in Houston. I'm not sure I could if I wanted to; it was a blur of urgency, hard work, sweat (it was about 93 degrees Fahrenheit/34 Celsius every day), exhaustion and tough decisions. In the early days we set to work hauling things out of the house. Broken furniture, waterlogged clothes, mildewy magazines, all piled on the front lawn. Of course there was a decision to make with each item: do we try to save this? A million tiny decisions - yes to this painting, no to this vase, no to these clothes, these hats, these books, what about these keychains - do they have sentimental value? We had to decide quickly because there was so much to do; if it was moldy or made of fabric, wood, or plastic the general rule was to throw it away unless it had special value. Metal and glass could be cleaned and disinfected, but only within a finite amount of time, energy and money. When the large items had been taken care of, we combed the floor for small things that may have been deposited when the water receded: jewellery, photos, small wood decorations that had come unglued from pieces of antique furniture. As soon as a space was cleared the demolition team moved in: wood floor and carpets were pulled out, drywall and insulation removed, cabinets and sinks torn out.

Is this a shrimp in our yard?

I alternated my time between sorting through possessions downstairs and working in my "photo lab" upstairs. The flooding didn't reach the second floor and we had running water so, armed with my new knowledge of restoration techniques gained from the YouTube videos, I set up shop in the upstairs bathroom. I spent hour after hour rinsing photos in clear water, brushing mud and dirt off with my art brushes, and hanging them on the clotheslines to dry. There was no time to be jetlagged; I have never adjusted to a new time zone so quickly.

Roles had been organically worked out. My older brother Kevin, due to his own personal hobbies and many hours spent renovating his own home, has a wealth of knowledge in woodworking and electrical work, as well as general handyman skills. He too had done a lot of disaster recovery reading, and came prepared to lead the demolition effort. He acted as general contractor for all the crews who came to help us, and also did a huge amount of the work himself. My self-proclaimed job was to try to save things. I sorted through closets of clothes to try to salvage the least-damaged things; I set aside items from cabinets and shelves that I thought could be cleaned; whenever we entered a new room and we found more photographs, scrapbooks, newspaper clippings, journals, they came to me. My younger brother John wasn't able to get as much time away from his work, but when he was at the house he pitched in with whatever was needed. Of course Mom and Dad were there too almost every day, every long hour that we worked they were scrubbing, power washing, sorting, sweating and carrying things that were way too heavy for them.

And then there were the volunteers. So many volunteers! Every bit of demolition work was done by helpers volunteering their time. This is the part that blows me away, and is one of a few silver linings that makes a huge dent in the sadness of this experience. The way the city of Houston stood up and came together to help the community was just incredible. Because of natural high and low areas around the city and because the bayou snakes through the whole city, there were huge areas of town where everyone flooded, but also huge areas with no water damage. So the people without damage came out in droves to help those who flooded. I saw the #HoustonStrong motto all over town and it truly warmed my heart to hear the stories of people coming together from near and far to help. There were people coming and going all the time so I didn't always even know who was at our house each day, but here are just some of the people who helped us:

These workers in yellow shirts are the Mormon Helping
Hands, who helped out all over town.

These tough ladies are a group from the physical
therapy program at the University of Mary
Hardin-Baylor in Belton, TX, about 3 hours northeast of
our house. I still don't know how they found us, but they
showed up with their hammers and shovels and tools
and set in to the exhausting dirty demolition work.

It wasn't just young people doing the work; some longtime
friends of Mom and Dad's came out too. 

Every day food showed up; always for lunch, and sometimes
for dinner too. The cookies and chips this high school
friend of Mom's brought for us lasted the entire two
weeks and also fed the workers at the neighbors' houses! One
day a golf cart came putting down our street with tons of
chicken sandwiches donated by Chick-fil-A and some
homemade brownies someone made. 

My cousins headed up a crew who came in and took
charge of the dishes. Mom has a lot of sets of dishes,
seasonal, fine china, inherited china, and cut glass and crystal
both from her wedding and inherited. My cousins took it 
upon themselves to come collect all the dishes and glassware,
pack it up and take it back to Kim's home, where she organized
her neighbors to have an assembly line of bins to soak things in -
soap, bleach, rinse, more bleach, more soap, and then everything
through the dishwasher. Then they packed everything securely
in boxes and when the moving truck came to take the
remaining belongings to a storage unit, there were 24 boxes!

This is my brother and me with a distant cousin from Louisiana
whom we had never met. Her home flooded a year ago and
when she found out about my parents' situation, she first
offered lots of advice and then spent her two days off
working at our house, driving 5 hours each way. Oh - and
she brought us crawfish étouffée!!

My cousin Kim also loaned me her fun little mini Cooper
for almost the entire duration of my stay

This dear longtime family friend brought us food and spent
hours in this spot with a digital camera patiently digitizing
Mom's soggy recipe cards.

My invaluable friend Phyllis had emailed
everyone she knew to recruit helpers for us.
This guy, who was kind enough to pose
with my sweaty dad, works for a woman
who received Phyllis' email. The woman
passed on our information to him and, bless
his heart, he came out late in our time in
Houston and did a million physically exhausting
leftover tasks. You can tell from the photo he's a
strong young guy; he told us he doesn't tire
easily but when he left about 3:00 he said
he was completely exhausted! We really asked
a lot of him! 

Our neighbors' son is a chiropractor in central Texas. He came
down for a weekend and offered free adjustments in his parents'
stripped-down home to volunteers and families on our street.  

The guys on the left side of this group photo dropped on us straight from heaven. A high school friend, Stefanie, who no longer lives in Houston nevertheless had a longtime family friend who owns the Texas Handyman Carpenters Network. She asked me if I could use his help; I never knew who was coming to help day by day but I answered that I was sure we could, and gave her the address, not knowing if it would come to anything. I then put my phone away for the day and set to work (I rarely checked it during the day because I rarely took a break). Sometime mid-morning 2 or 3 pickup trucks showed up at the house full of people and tools. It was Jack and his crew! They organized themselves immediately under Kevin's direction and spread out into different corners of the house, where they proceeded to work hard all day long. Around noon someone they knew showed up with food to feed an army. Things like this were amazing to me - friends reaching out to their networks and recruiting helpers without whom we could never have finished the work. Since the water on our street was some of the last in town to recede, lots of people, including this group, finished demolition in their own house or neighborhood and then came to ours, knowing we were behind the timeline and people would still be at work.

Speaking of amazing things, on the right of the picture is my ex-sister-in-law and her fiancée. They drove back and forth from Austin to help us for several days, and so did one of her ex-boyfriends, whom she dated between her marriage with my brother and her engagement to her current love. What kind of people voluntarily spend their days with a respirator on their face ripping out soggy moldy wood and walls with their ex-husband's family, their ex-girlfriend's ex-husband's family, their fiancée's ex-husband's family? Good, kind, generous people, that's who. My parents are also good, kind, generous people and this was a way to give back to them.

Two women showed up one morning and helped until lunchtime. I was used to not necessarily knowing who the volunteers were each day so I didn't think too much about it. But as we were standing around the pickup truck eating our lunch from the truck bed, as we did every day, I realized from their conversation that they didn't live in Houston. It turns out they used to live there but had moved away. One of the women was turning 40 and had flown back to Houston from Oklahoma to celebrate her birthday with her friends. The other had come from Saskatchewan for the party. I still don't know how they found our home, but they had decided to spend time helping flood victims before going out that night to celebrate the birthday.

Phyllis and I had sorted through my parents' closets full of clothes and selected things that weren't moldy or stained from rusty hangers. She took home a load to experiment with disinfecting them to see if they could be salvaged. She had to wash them several times to figure out the right combination of detergents and disinfectants that would remove the foul dirty water smell, but eventually she was able to declare success. She and several of her friends took large garbage bags full of clothing to their homes to wash, fold and repack in plastic bins that they donated to our cause.

And then there were the people who donated space in their homes to us. I spent a week with Phyllis, a friend from elementary/middle school in Alabama who had later moved to Houston, and about 10 days with my friend Adrienne, whom I went to school with during the two years I lived in Houston while I was finishing high school. It was an unexpected benefit to come home each night to a comfortable home, a glass of wine, a dinner waiting for me if I hadn't already eaten, an escape from the stress of the day, and a chance to get to know my friends' families. Kevin, John, Mom and Dad spent many nights with each of our 3 cousins in the Houston area.

I haven't told all the stories here, or mentioned all the people who contributed to getting the house in order. But even in this sampling you can see how huge the outpouring of support was. I have accepted help in the past when I had newborn babies and after my bike accident and concussion, but this was well beyond anything I have experienced. We couldn't begin to pay all these people back. You just say yes with a  heart full of gratitude to whatever it is people offer to do. May God bless them all! Because there was so much to do, it was easy to feel overwhelmed and somewhat paralyzed by indecision, so I am especially grateful for the times when people took charge and took on a specific task - "I'll take the laundry and get it clean', "I will wash all the dishes", "I will bring you dinner on Wednesday", "I will find you more trash bags", "I will bring moving boxes and packing material". If I am ever in a position to help someone else in this situation I will be sure to remember to do this.

Some people have expressed confusion in understanding why my parents didn't expect their house to flood and didn't have flood insurance. After all, they live across the street from the bayou; didn't they know this could happen? As I said earlier, my parents had water in their home (a couple of inches) once in the last 28 years. In addition, Hurricane Harvey broke the record for the most total rainfall ever recorded from a single storm in the lower 48 states (more than 50 inches/127 cm depending on where which part of town you measure). The Space Science and Engineering Center at the University of Wisconsin at Madison did some calculations and announced that many areas of Southeast Texas received rain that could be expected to come around only once every 1,000 years, assuming a stationary climate (which of course may not be a valid assumption, but still - the point is made.) But in addition to this data, while I was in Houston I tried to take some pictures that would display just how much water had to accumulate in order to create a flood of this magnitude.

This photo begins to show how far away from the water my parents' house actually is. You can see in the photo at the top of the blog just how large my parents' front yard is, and it slopes upwards. Beyond the yard is the street, and across the street a huge open park/levee. The park is flat for a while and then the edge drops off about 15 feet to huge retaining areas next to the bayou. The photo on the left is taken standing just before the dropoff and looking back towards the houses (the cars you see are parked on the street and the houses are beyond).

This photo shows how the land drops off towards the right, and the retaining area is now doing its job of holding water. Underneath that water is a paved bicycle path, which is normally full of cyclists and joggers. The trees beyond the water flank the bayou, and the actual bayou is unseen to the right beyond the trees. On normal days it's quite low and you can even walk on a small path in the trees next to the water.

In this photo I'm standing down in the low space. Ahead of me on the left you see the path which in this stretch isn't covered by water, while the water still stands in the pool to the right. You can see the brown water mark in the tree.

So to reach our house, the water had to rise in the bayou, spill over into the low retaining area, fill that completely and then crest the 15ish foot hill, wash across the levee and spill into the street, and finally climb across the front yard to enter the home. Of course it was also coming from the back and side yards, which had nowhere to send the rain that was pooling there as well. When the Army Corps of Engineers decided to open the dams and release more water into the bayou to lessen the pressure on the straining embankments, the water in these homes rose along with the bayou. (In fact many homes hadn't flooded at all until the corps' decision. Many people in Houston are angry about this and feel they are owed compensation.) Then it had nowhere to go for weeks as every drop of water in the inundated city tried to make its way out at once.

So what does flood damage look like? Driving into the neighborhood each day we truly entered a disaster area.

And inside the homes? I hesitate to post the next few photos because it still shocks me to see them, and also because there's something very intimate and personal about a home in this state that makes you feel very exposed. But I think you can't really understand unless you can see this. When the water went down, this is what was left behind.

This is the living room. You can see the water line on the walls. The black spots above are mold. The white and grey on
the furniture is mold. The wood squares are part of the flooring from the den.

The kitchen looks like it's from an episode of Hoarders, with trash and food everywhere. In the foreground is the
refrigerator toppled over. 

Relic from a bygone era: Volume U-V of the
World Book Encyclopedia floated from the den
to its resting spot in the bathroom

My parents' bedroom, this is after we cleared it enough to be able to walk in. We sent the beautiful four-poster bed
to a furniture refinishing company to have it restored.

The den after it was cleared and the floor was removed. 

Me, Dad, Kevin

Furniture toppled, contents jumbled. When we lifted out cups and bowls
we first dumped out the muddy water.

There was always a trash can nearby when we were at work.

Lunch in the bed of the truck; respirators dangle from our necks, filthy boots
on our feet

Standing in my parents' bedroom looking at the remains of the closet (center)

The trash pile grew in the front yard

Bob works in the kitchen - cabinets, sinks and appliances torn out

A crew works in the bedroom

After a string of blessedly sunny days, we got some heavy rain.

Bob "remodeled" the downstairs bathroom
to provide a private toilet and sink.

Not the healthiest place to eat lunch, but we had to move inside due to the rain.

Powerwashing on the driveway

Mom and Dad's new truck was a rockstar. It carried all our
supplies, held snacks and drinks, and served as dining table.

We had to pull the ivy off the walls so it could be power
washed underneath. 

Imagine the weight of 6 feet of water. The fireplace is
appropriately cracked.

Baby shoes 

Kevin posed with his baby blanket before it
was lovingly tossed into the trash pile

Poor bunny sits in the mud. Item after item was transformed
into trash by the floodwaters.

We uncovered some gems deep in the cabinets!

Some people took the opportunity of a yard full of trash to make a joke or broadcast their feelings.

(Nottingham Forest is the name of our neighborhood)

"Angels keep me safe"

One day "the claw" came to our street to take away the piles from the yards. First it raked everything into the street, and then later more machines came to load everything into gigantic dumpsters. As I stood filming the scene for posterity, I was surprised by the strength of the emotion that came over me. I turned off the video, sank to my knees and sobbed. I couldn't watch the claw bulldoze my parents' possessions into the street any longer. Many well-meaning people have told me during this process that possessions can be replaced and the most important thing is that my parents are safe. Of course it's true that if my parents weren't safe and well then everything else would pale in comparison. But I believe the loss of a lifetime of possessions is a death in itself and is absolutely something to be grieved. Especially for people my parents' age, who have had many years to build their collections, and who have also inherited precious things from family members who have died. Of course not everything in the house was an heirloom; there's no special emotion attached to the microwave or the thermometer or the plastic cups, and this was as good an excuse as any to sort through the many many things that were simply clutter and trash. But there were so many things in that pile that were special, that represented memories. After I composed myself I walked over to the crewman nearest me, who was watching me. Typical of everyone I met in Houston, he was full of compassion. He expressed his sympathy and told me how hard it was to watch this go on for house after house, day after day. He told me that he had lost his home in a fire not many years ago and that this is bringing back tough memories for him. 

Strangely enough, I spoke with at least 6 or 7 people during the Harvey episode who had been through a house fire. You just don't hear about house fires very often, so I was surprised by the number of people I encountered who had experienced it. A friend from college actually told me that his mother had experienced flood and then fire in the same time period: hurricane flooding, and then a house fire accident during the rebuilding of the house. He said that given the two disasters they preferred the flood; at least with flood you can see the items that are destroyed and grieve them as you throw them away, but with fire they are just gone and you wonder what exactly you have lost. I kept those words in mind as we threw things away, and they have also been at the forefront of my mind in the past few weeks as so many have lost homes to fire in California.

 

The smell of the area greatly improved after the trash was hauled away. As you can imagine, the rotting moldy piles on everyone's front lawn created a horrific smell. The masks we wore filtered not just the unsafe particles but also the scent. I didn't really want to breathe without the mask; we had to take them off to eat or take a drink of water, but otherwise I wore mine pretty much all the time. It was also really nice to have the trash gone and not have to stare at the sad soggy pile every day. We did quickly create a new pile as we continued to finish the cleanup and sort through the upstairs as well, but the new pile wasn't as depressing as the first.

What a difference between right and left!

A worker sprays the bedroom with a super hot power washer

After about 20 days of hard work, including packing up the upstairs which included the kids' (our) bedrooms and storage space, the house was completely empty and we brought in the pros. They cleaned the house inside and out with hot water and then heated it up to dry it out. They tested the bacteria levels in the house to make sure no mold would regrow. And now the house will go up for sale. Who knows how long it will be before anyone wants to buy it? Is it prime bayou real estate or the next disaster waiting to happen? And will the eventual new owners work within the existing structure, or will they just tear it down and build something different? Only time will tell.

We joked that the house has a lovely new "open floorplan". Here we are standing in the dining room. Looking to the right
is the kitchen, then laundry room and door to the back yard. On the left is the living room and then the study. The den is
in the middle delineated by the studs.

No way we were getting rid of these pants!
They were washed and will live to see
another day.

As is the case with most things in life, even the sad things, there are always some positives. I already mentioned the amazing show of support from friends, acquaintances and strangers alike, and also the joy of spending time in the homes of old friends. But another great thing was spending so much time with my family, even under such unfortunate circumstances. I haven't spent that much time with my parents and brothers since we all lived at home under the same roof, ages ago. Kevin, especially, I almost never see or even talk to. The time difference between his home in Massachusetts and mine in Montana, both of us with jobs and kids, had made it hard to keep in touch, and being in Berlin didn't improve the situation. I truly enjoyed working with him and reconnecting with him, and his sense of humor had us laughing way more than we otherwise would have been able to.

Another great thing was the support of my community back in Berlin. First and foremost Dan, who didn't bat an eyelash when I suggested going to Houston for an indefinite period of time. I could focus 100% on what I needed to do in Houston without worrying about the kids or animals or school or anything else in Berlin, because he was entirely capable of managing it (not quite as well as I do, of course, but passably :) ). Dan's aunt and uncle, Hedi and Helmut, drove over from Austria to watch the kids for the first several days while Dan was away on a business trip. A parent who lives close by drove Haley to and from school each day. A few friends dropped by with dinner. I had a list of people who had volunteered to help in any way, Dan just had to ask. And then Carter and Haley themselves really stepped up to the challenge. They took over the dishes, shopping, dog walking, and pet feeding while I was gone. And my spirits were lifted by the love, support and prayers of my friends in Berlin.

Last but certainly not least, I was well aware, as we sorted through their things, that I had the privilege to do this task side by side with my parents. Most often the task of going through your parents' things is undertaken after their deaths, when you are grieving their loss. I am so thankful that this was not the case and we still have more time together. And rather than wonder about the significance of some picture or knickknack, I was able to simply find Mom or Dad and ask where it came from and what was the story behind it, so for that I am grateful.

Harvey furnished me with a rich new set of experiences: new faith in the goodness of people, new empathy for disaster victims, new skills in photo restoration and house demolition, new memories with my family, new knowledge of the resilience of which people are capable. "That which doesn't kill us makes us stronger", and I'm confident this experience will be with me forever.