One Steamy Night In Kyoto

In Kyoto, Japan, the August nights remain almost as hot as the days, hovering in the high 80s and unbearably humid. On just such a sticky Friday night in 2008, I rode my bicycle down to Kyoto's famed Kiyamachi Street, long-known as the shame of Kyoto for its throngs of drunken university students and rows of sleazy hostess bars, love hotels, and porn rental cafes. The man-made Takase River, barely a  trickle of water running over the cobblestones, divides the street down the center.
I was going through a phase where I didn't want to care about anyone, so I danced the night away alone, surrounded by friends. Exhausted, dehydrated, and sweaty, I left the club at 4:00 am. As I left, I was approached by a boy with dark skin, a hawk nose, rich brown eyes, and shaggy black hair. Left hand in pocket, right hand outstretched, he strode over to me, belting out in a chipper British accent with an assuring smile, "Hey! I'm Amrik." Just another guy, I told myself. Don't get attached.

How We Met...Again

There are many metaphors used to describe relationships and marriage. Mine is of a stream that starts as a small rivulet and travels through gorgeous valleys, craggy gorges, dangerous rapids and around man-made dams hopefully to a peaceful pond in the distance.

Our journey began when I was finishing medical school. We had each just fallen out of lengthy relationships that had not worked out. And with me planning to move in another year to begin residency, neither of us was looking to build a longstanding relationship.

Interestingly, 34 years later, when we now compare stories of how we met and exactly when the spark was lit, we have completely different versions. So much so that the versions won’t even stitch together into a cohesive whole. Such is the fruit of impending senility. However, in a way, we actually met again 13 years ago.  And in some ways, that meeting, and its consequences make the details of our initial meeting pale in significance.