Dispatch from Kyoto

There are many things that one can discover in the ancient city of Kyoto. Beautiful temples hide around the corner from the supermarket. The seasons come and go, bringing with them ephemeral delights. Sakura petals fall under the gentle susurration of a spring breeze, enveloping kimono-clad women in a snowstorm of flowers. If you followed these resplendent women, you might find that they are heading to a tea shop for matcha and wagashi, Japanese sweets. These sweets, dainty enough to match the best kimonos, enchant your taste buds. Talk to one of these women and your heart may never leave the city. The old capital of Japan is a city of food too, the kaiseki cuisine here is a fitting accompaniment to her grandeur. Mountains surround her and if one were to climb up the various paths, breathtaking views await, best to be savored with a cup of sake. Nature blends in harmoniously with innovation - Kyoto is the home of Nintendo as well.

Indeed, this city contains enough charms to fill many lifetimes. This, however, is the story of just one night in Kyoto. After our final political economy class of the semester, I went out for dinner with some classmates, American and Japanese (we have auditors from Kyoto University). We go to a place called El Latino, a Mexican bar and restaurant. I find myself seated next to one of the auditors, S We smile at each other, for some reason, I've always found it really easy to talk to her. We (there were 8 of us) place our orders. Over tacos and quesadillas, beers, Peruvian soda and tequila shots, we talk about everything. Inviting our professor out for drinks, the saltiness of the margarita, Hiroshima, Korea's perception of Japan, growing up away from where we were born.
S talks about how she lived in Toronto when she was young and how, returning to Japan, she felt very North American yet when she moved to Chicago later on at the age of 15, she felt Japanese. Not quite at home in either place, I could empathize with her.

After dinner, we make our way to the river, dropping by the convenient store to get dessert and drinks. This was the fateful journey.

At the river, I shared the taste of joy. It was unexpected, from such an accidental source. It soothed old scars and brought up long dormant feelings and new ones. We smiled and laughed. It was indeed oishii, the tiramisu from the convenience store, eaten with a spork. In Kyoto, some people find unrivaled beauty, others history, a few lucky ones love. I found tiramisu to rival Nigel's.