Memories of Kyoto 京都市

I remember, walking down the dark, quiet side streets of Kyoto, hair damp, waiting for the bus. Having just been to the onsen and discovered God’s sculpting job of the human figure. Trying new sodas from the corner machine, “I wonder what this one tastes like?” ¥150. “Hmm rather like the last one, like Pocari Sweat.” Sleeping on the bus, hair still wet, towels in our laps. “how many more stops?” passing our stop and getting off at the station, because we knew that we knew the way from there. Past Kyoto tower, past the French deli (how many were there in Kyoto? More than in France, that’s for sure), around the corner past the Lawson and a left past the Honda place. I remember the cool dark air of japan, peaceful in its way, a refreshment after the heat of the bathhouse, where my sunburn prevented me actually getting in. “this one feels weird, there’s an electric current!” “what do we do?” the good-intentioned Japanese woman pantomiming what to do with the buckets. Figuring out how to shower, bathe and shower again. Being the only Americans and the only ones neither ancient nor brand new. Finding a strange but pure new appreciation for God’s handiwork in women. A new closeness with my new friends; shared experience; shared intimacy. “It’s okay, we were at the onsen together.”

Walking during the daytime and trying to find our way back—“where were we? Just keep walking towards the tower, we’re that way.” “can’t we stop for lunch? How about here?” salmon and rice. Gyoudon. Coffee-water, or was it tea? おいしい、アミっちゃん！So much walking.
Daytime bus passes, nighttimes wandering, trying to find the right bus, but we couldn't read the stops. Asking in Japanese how to find the arcade and shopping street, teasing amy about her Japanese “boyfriend.” More rice and salmon. Onigiri, yum. Jazz before bedtime in the hostel bar. Conversations. Candy corn.“I can’t find my train pass.” “Well, do you have it?” “No, I can’t find it…” Boarding the train to Tokyo, not knowing what awaited there.

Warmth, friendship, family.
The time I became best friends with Amy B.