The first thing is the commute

Every time I get a new notebook, after writing my name on the front and flipping through the pages, feeling their tooth, I want to put something cool on that first page. Maybe I'll copy down a quote or maybe I'll glue in a picture that will set the tone for that notebook. But invariably my printing looks immature, the picture is not centred or most often, I write something pretentious and dumb to begin. Every notebook I spoil in the same way. So this blog is really intimidating to start.

Here I am living in Hong Kong, or sort of living in Hong Kong. There are so many things I want to tell about adjusting to being here and not needing to adjust because it's so much like California. But this first post has me stymied. So, I guess I'd better start with the commute.
I've never liked boats really, but taking the ferry across the Hong Kong harbor each morning and afternoon is my favourite part of the day. In the morning the mist is sleepy on all the mini-cargo ships that wait to unload the big ones. Even the dogs on the decks are lying still and waiting for the day to begin. The water is still silver. Besides the anchored ships and the ferries I watch every morning for the little island that has egrets perched in the tree tops and I watch the black kites circling and diving for fish.
I always sit with the kids in the same place, as do all the regular commuters. We recognize all of them and no one who usually rides that ferry sits in our seats. We'd started doing it posh (port outbound, starboard home) but there were some annoying teenagers from the Swiss German school, so we moved to the starboard side for our trip to school. That means that every day I ride along the waterfront and see the sun coming through between the skyline of Central.
This picture, though, is of the way home. The ferry I usually take is open on the top deck and that makes it glorious. The water changes as water does telling the story of the sky's day. I'd expected that. But the whole city does the same.