There’s really a lot of organization here, I think, but a simple glance around Kawasaki City seems to indicate utter chaos. For instance, the roads—while unbearably charming with their twists, turns, blind corners and mismatched pavement—are the lexicon of entropy.

There is a complete absence of intelligible road markings (and I’m not saying this because I can’t read Japanese well), and when there are traffic directions of some sort they are hardly uniform. If you think you’ve seen crazy driving, you haven’t.

Rarely is there a center-line, never is there a curb, and guess what: pedestrians share the avenues with cars on any road that could possibly be considered a side-street. Cars zoom up and down the massive hills (did I mention the hills yet?) along with every kind of bicycle, motorcycle and moped you could imagine. It’s lovely!

The roads are packed, too.

People, cars, bikes—but no squirrels. I don’t think Japan has any.

Regardless, it could be described as insanity. The roads literally snarl along the hills and valleys of Kawasaki City in what truly appears to be a random order. Some vary in width from just enough for a single vehicle to more than enough for three cars. There is no pattern to it whatsoever.

To really hammer this home, let me remind you that I think of myself as a terribly good driver, but I wouldn’t even want to attempt moving more than a few feet in one of these vehicles.

People pass within inches of one another at speed in excess of 25 m.p.h., the motorcycles drive wherever they please, and the pedestrians simply add to the mixture. I saw two near-crashes today, yet I did not see one angry driver or any of the so-called road rage that seems to typify urban America.

Though I still have to get used to the “bzzzzzz” noise of mopeds screaming by just feet from where I’m walking. That might be tough.

Today was actually more for me than just observing traffic, though, it was a day of tours, and it really lifted my spirits. Let me digress momentarily; some of the students here are phenomenal. Everyone is nice, but the level that some of the other international students are speaking Japanese at is beyond my comprehension (in more than one way!). Which means that they receive near-all of the attention from our three R.A.’s, and they are undoubtedly the toast of any group gathering—and they are funny, too.

Don’t get me wrong, I like them, they are nice guys. One is my roommate, in fact. But they sure as fuck make it intimidating around here, or maybe I’ve just got mad at meeting people?

Either way, we had a campus tour today, and luckily I wasn’t with any of the aforementioned smarties (who all come from the University of Oregon). We split into groups, and ours was led by three young Japanese students who spoke no English.

And it was a blast.

I realized that I actually can speak Japanese, who knew?

As for the campus itself, the place is somewhat hard to gauge because it’s so disorganized. The topography makes it impossible to visually determine where things are, but even so, things become more complicated by the various shops, houses and buildings that have sandwiched themselves in to every nook and cranny that isn’t used by Senshu University. Where does campus end and begin? Who knows?

Building Number 9, despite the campus ambiguity I mentioned, is impossible to miss. It is a huge 8 story (or is it 9?) monster that was built only recently. It really is state of the art, unlike our rundown dormitory. Inside it contains a beautiful two story library, and a hardwood floored cafeteria that leads out to lovely balcony dining. (If you can stand the “unbearable” humidity.)

I just reread some of what I’ve written, and I’ve complete devolved into factual recitation. Ugh. I need to learn to write.

“I like Niggaz With Attitude,” said one of my tour guides. (But pretend he said it in Japanese.)

Then he produced the album for me from his large North Face backpack that he had on over his grey Sean Jean XXL t-shirt. This guy was hilarious. He was also dressed in large Roca Wear jeans and some immiation Lugz boots. Did I mention he was hilarious?

We talked hip hop and rap music for a while, and he told me all about Roppongi and Shibuya, the two districts where the rap clubs he frequents are located. He was quite passionate about it, and after he asked my hobbies and I replied with “running” and “writing,” he seemed a bit surprised.

His name was Misashi and besides his other blatant hip-hop fashions, he also incorporated a red wave cap and tan fuzzy Kangol into his wardrobe. Quite the diva, he was.

But he wasn’t the only guide worth describing.

The other two were great, too. They were skinny, young Japanese (19 years old) and they made me laugh and laugh and laugh. Perhaps it was their mock-Japanese lesson in the back of the International Affairs office where we learned the meaning of the word “Baka” (We already knew the meaning: stupid), or maybe it was when they were leading our group to the DVD section of the library and emphatically pointed to the Kubrick’s “Eyes Wide Shut” while saying (in thickly accented English) “Pornography.”

Their charisma was unmatched.

The two each carried bags not so dissimilar from the cloth grocery bags you might spot at a pretentious spot like Ideal grocery, except that these bags were a bit different: one had a Rolling Stones logo on it and the words “50% Rock, 50% Roll”, and the other one was emblazoned with “Nirvana,” “Nevermind” and the classic X-ed out smiley face.

They really put me in a good mood.

They reminded me that I can speak Japanese and that I can make mistakes, and that I don’t have to be so good at it. They made me laugh for the first time since I’ve been here.

I think that’s what I miss most about Lincoln, all of my friends to make me laugh. Everyone here at the dormitory is so unremarkable.

We have yet to really begin classes, so I’m just kind of drifting here. I think, once classes begin, I’ll try and pour myself into my studies, and forget everything else. I think the only thing that could distract me from that goal would be a great friend here at the Kenshukan (dormitory), and I really don’t see that happening, but maybe I just tend to write the story of my life loaded with abysmally negative foreshadowing.

But forget the English speakers. I plan to make a lot of Japanese friends, and have already signed up for a conversation partner, but most of the English-speakers here seem to be pretty boring, though I guess I could simply be an elitist.

For instance, at this moment a group of them is sitting around playing poker with two of our Japanese tour guides. I’m sitting right next to them, typing this, but I’d much rather be walking around Kawasaki City, perhaps sitting down in the center of the town just watching people. Really, I would. Just sitting on a bench with someone I don’t know all that well, talking to them and watching the Japanese walk by (or roll by, circumstances depending).

The people. They really are something. I know that before I came here I said that I didn’t like Japanese girls, and that’s still generally true—I don’t like foreign girls compared to Americans—but the women here really are beautiful. They are unbelievably different from anyone I’ve ever seen in America, but then, I’m also obsessed with the superficial…

It doesn’t matter anyway. The only thing I have going for me is my charm, and it’s all completely lost in translation. But I didn’t come to Japan to meet girls.
Sumo is on the television.

Tonight I might go to Shinjuku.

I’m pretty lonely right now.

I love you all.