Badaud Dispatch 1

I arrived in Japan on Tuesday and I don't think I've quit gaping for a minute. The first morning I wandered out of the hotel and immediately got lost in the twisty, illogical nameless streets of Kanagawa. I met an adorable little cat and saw a tiny makeshift waterwheel in a canal, and watched smiling women ride by on giant bikes with a kid in the back, a kid in the front and an infant strapped to their chests and I decided I liked Japan a lot.

Wonderful scaled down canal

 Hardly anyone speaks English, and after a panicky first day I found that I can get by with my terrible Japanese and a lot of flailing and pointing. People are patient. I'm living in a dorm complex about fifteen minutes from school, a lovely walk along a narrow lane that turns into a shopping district about halfway there. There aren't a lot of sidewalks here, and everyone walks, bikes and rides quite slowly but very aggressively.

Also, the trucks are ADORABLE.

I get the impression that using English non-kana [hrrmph Bart! ed.] words is a popular advertising strategy, though sometimes having a native speaker check things over would have been a good idea.  

FROMAGE bike!

Foppish Accessories from Rank Up

Classes don't start for a bit, so I'm free to wander- in between mandatory hours of relentless bureaucracy. I'm definitely a badoud which bothers my fragile American ego, but there's so much to look at I don't feel too terribly self-conscious. I walk up mysterious flights of stairs...

 

 And find shrines at the top...

And run after strangers to document their amazing watermelon carrying system,

And love the orange that is everywhere- so bright! So elegant!

And go up the Tokyo Tower...

And realize how very huge the city is....

And look down through the 'Lookdown Window' (I'm the sandals)

And witness some truly disturbing fashion options in Harajuku:

Run away!

Today I went to a cat cafe because I missed my Dorian and it was not quite what I expected. Yes, there were the helium voiced attendants and the impossibly kawaii cats (where do they find them? Their little faces are the PERFECT ratio of big eyes to tiny noses for maximum cuteness. One percent in any direction and they would be terrifying) but the clientele was sad looking 30-something dudes in business causal, quietly drinking tea and stroking the bored staff. I had expected squealing tourists, but I was the only westerner. I made friends with this little fellow who condescended to sit on me for a bit. 

Aki-san

I also got fantastic cat furniture ideas.

The cultural differences are endless and overwhelming and strange and fascinating. I think I'll hold off on going on about them until I've been here longer. But for example: the subway turnstiles in New York are closed by default, and only open when you swipe your Metrocard. In Japan, the turnstile stands open and only closes if you try to pass without tapping your Passmo card. It closes fast. 

Shibuya in the rain

I will try to update a lot, since I've said about an eighth of what I meant to. My brain is full and I am not a fast writer. I miss certain dear ones at home with a steady, constant ache and I need a bicycle and I am still jet lagged and I am so very, very glad I'm here. 

Isis