I’ve been going in to work about a half hour later than in my previous job. Although this means more sleep, it also means I’m hitting the transit system at the same time as a lot more commuters and students. The trains have been packed; if that much physical contact went on in any other context, it would be grounds for sexual harassment. The buses haven’t been much better, this morning’s line was the longest I’ve seen; we ran out of sidewalk. I didn’t get on the first bus, although I could have if I wanted to hang above the stairwell like a bat. The second bus driver did a very wise thing by pulling up to the stop early, opening the doors, then walking off the bus and letting us sort ourselves out.
    A recent innovation is the little sign that tells you what the next stop is, along with that oh-so-calm female voice-over we’re used to from the trains. Today was the first time I’ve heard the same voice say “Please move to the back of the bus”, presumably triggered by the push of a button by the driver. I guess it was more pleasant than being yelled at, though it did seem a tad impersonal. We were pretty full and trying to pack more people on, and it takes a while for the rearward shuffle to translate into more room at the front. The driver hit the button a couple more times.
    “Please move to the back of the bus please move to the back of the bus,” which ruined the calm effect somewhat.
    Two guys within earshot piped up:
    “I need that voice for my alarm clock.”
    “Please get up.
    Please have breakfast.
    Please clean yourself.”

    In an odd coincidence, this month's Buzzer features an article on the voices of translink, our mystery voice belongs to Calgary-based Laureen Regan.

    From Wednesday:
    I got my keys today; I am drunk with power.

    What to tell you about work? I’ve had meetings pretty much daily, lots of planning and brainstorming and dreaming. I’ve been designing websites, editing audio, drafting display panels, looking at floor plans, promoting an upcoming event, talking to work study students, organizing images and video, doing some running around getting everything set up and all my paperwork straight. I’ve known these people for years already, so it’s at once a new job and a homecoming. Things go well.

    Although I know Monday is Thanksgiving, it really doesn't feel like it. Likely, this is due in part to me being in a state of sweaty exhaustion in the tropical heat two weeks ago. Orchids and coral reefs to autumn leaves and turkey takes a little longer to process. Also, since about August, I've been planning events for September; leaving work, departure preparations, the trip itself, arriving home, starting a new job. October was a fabled I'll-make-it-there-someday destination. Now it's here and I haven't had the chance to stop and figure out my temporal location, despite needing to wear a scarf and mittens on my commute yesterday.
    Or maybe it's that I left my mind (or stomach) in Southeast Asia, caught in the branches of a tamarind tree. I've been emailing with a newfound cousin in Singapore, and one of my Aunts was here this week, on a North American tour before she moves her life from San Francisco back to Singapore, their words having the cadences of that ancestral home. Today we ate some of the ikan bilis our relatives gave us, and I'm surrounded by traces of my journey. Perhaps this is the permanent state of being for my parents, and my grandparents: living in two places at the same time, a mindset which spans the Pacific.

    PAP, MRT, MGS, HDB, ACS, PIE
    Brother, are you headed home?
    Brother, aren't we always headed home?