SOLANA MUNICIPALITY, Philippines — The villagers in the northern Philippines have lived with typhoons their whole lives, but many of them told me they weren't prepared for a storm the size of Typhoon Parma.

A farmer crosses a flooded rice paddy on the outskirts of Manila.

I am in a village in Solana, a municipality of Cagayan Province, where Parma made landfall.

We have been driving through some of the low-lying areas. On our way here, we passed downed power lines and tree branches strewn on the roads. Military personnel and local volunteers are working overtime to clear the debris. While we were filming some of the damage, a farmer walked over to tell me that the flooding got so severe that the waters rose as high as his head.

The village I am in now is a community of farmers.  Some of the rooftops on the homes here were blown off by the winds. The power was knocked out. One man told me he was terrified when the storm set in because he could hear his house rattling and the rains pelting his metal roof. The waters on some of the roads come up to our knees.

The villagers told me flooding is normal during typhoon season so many of them build a second floor on their homes. One family of rice farmers was kind enough to show me around their house. All their belongings were elevated, piled on tables, cabinets and shelves. The water was about a foot deep. This is the first time, the family told me, that the water flowed into the house. The ceiling is stained with water marks, Parma's permanent imprint on their home.

The family's home has a second floor but it failed to provide the usual shelter to the storm. The sound of Parma was so frightening, they said, that the six family members chose to huddle on small beds on the ground floor despite the rising waters. They feared the severe winds would blow off their roof, leaving them exposed to Parma's fury. They didn't have time to evacuate.

The winds and rains are gone now as Parma heads away from here. The farmers say the waters will likely take about a week to recede, and they worry about the damage to their crops. The rice plants are likely destroyed, Pinky Rhose Jesalva, a university student told me. Her family owns a tract of land nearby.

Other farmer families have laid out corn kernels alongside the road in hopes that the fermenting seeds will dry out. The Agricultural Department estimates the cost of damage from the two typhoons, Parma and Ketsana, will amount to about 120 million U.S. dollars, mainly because of devastated rice crops.

But the farmers have not given up hope. They are walking on the corn, turning the kernels over with their bare feet, in the hopes of salvaging more of their harvests.

ON THE ROAD TO SHAO LIN, Taiwan — It is a three-hour drive from Kaohsiung city into the mountains. We are trying to get to Shao Lin, a village wiped away by mudslides.

CNN’s Pauline Chiou stands on what remains of a washed out bridge in Jia Shian, Taiwan.

Along the main road through various towns, Taiwanese military troops clear out mud created by Typhoon Morokat last week. The soldiers create walls of mud to line the road.

The closer we get to the mountains, the more somber the stories. In the town of Ci Shan, we see a large tent along the side of the road with something like funeral preparations going on.

We pull over to find out more. Behind the tent is an open metal structure with funeral floral wreaths lined up inside. A Chinese banner reads, "In Memory of Typhoon Morokat Victims." A woman sits under the tent crying. A volunteer tells me she is waiting for the body of a family member.

An outdoor makeshift morgue is nearby. Workers in hospital gowns shuffle by in the heat. I meet a man named Wu Ji Rong, who says he is a funeral director. He says the workers have received 20 bodies this week. Most have been washed up by the nearby swollen Lao Nong River. Some are not whole bodies but body parts.

The Taiwanese are used to typhoons. But, Wu says, "It's the worst devastation I've seen in 50 years."

BEIJING, China – Yesterday was just not a good day to be a journalist in China.  Producers at the CNN International weather show wanted to do stories on how transportation is affected by bad weather. They asked the Beijing bureau to find this out: what is China doing to ensure safe and unimpeded train travel?

After all, China had a bad experience last spring, when heavy, protracted snowstorms paralyzed the rail system in south China and stranded millions of anxious travelers. We thought it would be good to highlight China's efforts to learn from that experience. The Chinese must be quite eager to tell this story, we thought.

Not really. By phone and fax, our intrepid news assistant Yang Yuli, placed a request to the Ministry of Railways (MOR) for an interview and news shoot. Ideally, she said politely, we wished to do that the following week. It's a good opportunity for China to share its experience and knowledge, she said as she appealed to MOR's office of international affairs.

The ministry is very, very busy lately, she was cautioned, but they would consider our request.

Five days later, Yuli phoned to follow up. MOR is simply too busy and the lead time is just too short. Could they give us a definite "yes" or "no"? We were told to keep waiting.

Meantime, same day, another story idea came up. How about doing a story on Wu Yulu, a farmer in suburban Beijing who is said to have built robots in his spare time? Wu did not finish high school but he has reportedly built 26 robots from scrap metal and bearings. Among them, a human-shaped automaton that pulls a rickshaw for six hours on a single electric charge.

Wu may not get a Nobel Prize nomination for his efforts, but I thought his story was so colorful it merited a closer look.  In some ways, I thought, his story showed Chinese ingenuity and resourcefulness.

Beijing bureau producer Judy Kwon tracked down Wu's home phone. His wife answered. Wu is too busy, she said, and Judy should talk to her, instead. Judy explained why we wished to interview Wu and what kind of story we wished to do, but Wu's wife interrupted to ask if there would be any "laogong fee" (service fee). No, Judy explained, as a company policy we do not pay nor accept payment for interviews or stories. No deal then, Wu's wife said curtly. Four members of the family rely on Wu so they need financial support. Judy kept pushing, saying we don't pay, but this could be a good opportunity for Wu to get international exposure. Does that mean no payment, no interview?

Long pause ...

This time, we got a quick and firm answer.

No-go on Wu Yulu.  No-go on the train story.

BEIJING, China - "Never mind the share market, worry about the sky. When the smog clears, there's trouble."

That was the advice one economist gave me when I first arrived in Beijing.

It might just be the weather, changing wind directions or the Olympics and pollution control measures kicking in, but we've had mostly blue skies for months now.

At best it's anecdotal evidence that China's economy is slowing. Normally, all the pollution pumped out from China's manufacturing south is blown up to Beijing where it is caught in the horseshoe-shaped mountain range that surrounds the city. And there it stays - gray, heavy and smelly.

But not lately. With one report suggesting 100,000 factory closures nationwide and electricity consumption falling (a better indication of economic activity than anything else, say some experts) perhaps, just perhaps the payoff from the economic crisis is some fresh air and blue sky.

Maybe after years of breakneck double-digit GDP growth, Beijing is quite literally taking a breather.

HONG KONG, China - When and where? Those two questions that have dominated our day out here on one of Hong Kong's ferry piers.

Correspondent Eunice Yoon, cameraman Charlie Miller and I are waiting for the arrival of Tropical Storm Nuri. We know the storm is coming because it keeps get colder, windier and wetter (at this point we are pretty much soaked through). Yet we still don't know exactly what time it will make landfall or how close to the city.

The CNN International Weather Center sends us the latest forecasts regularly. At this point a storm we thought would arrive at 2 p.m. (6 a.m. GMT) looks more likely to show up eight hours later. And I am learning that storm watching is one of the most unpredictable assignments.