It was a moment of pure, unadulterated love at first sight. As soon as I parted ways with her, I knew Hitomi was the one. I waited years to see her again, and when I did, it was as if time stood still. In my early 20s, I made a bold decision to quit my job in New Zealand and move to Sydney to study martial arts. In 1982, after competing in the World Pugilist championships in Hong Kong, I embarked on a month-long hitchhiking adventure across Japan, before heading to Korea via ferry in January of 1983. Little did I know that my life was about to change forever.
While boarding the ferry, I was approached by a captivating Japanese woman named Hitomi, who spoke limited English. She offered me a deal: buy one box of bananas and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black label, and I could pay for most of my trip in Korea. These items were highly sought-after back then, and I was more than happy to oblige. We ended up talking on the ferry, and despite my lack of Japanese, Hitomi was learning English as a hobby. She and her friend were traveling to Korea to buy clothes and accessories to sell in Japan, and I, with my limited knowledge of Korea, suggested we travel together.
We spent a week in Busan and another in Seoul, exploring local temples and the Busan Tower. At the time, I didn't think there were any romantic feelings between us. However, it turned out that air fares were expensive in Korea, and Hitomi suggested I return to Japan and spend some time in Miyazaki, Kyushu, where she lived with her mother. Their home was nestled in a valley, surrounded by rice paddies and koi ponds, with no other residences for a kilometre or so. Life was simple, and Hitomi's mother was initially amused by me, treating me well.
Hitomi and I spent a lot of time traveling around Kyushu, visiting older people living on their own or with disabilities. She would often bring small gifts, and I was drawn to her kindness, cheerful personality, lilting voice, and beautiful smile. One local even told me they thought she was an angel. During one of our visits to Takachiho, a famous mountain gorge, we decided to spend the night in a local tavern. That night, she asked me when I would return home. I told her I was falling in love with her and wanted to stay longer. She said, 'Me too!' and I was ecstatic. We kissed, and it was soft and delicate, just like her.
Eventually, my visa ran out, and I had to return to Australia. Hitomi came as far as Narita to see me off, and we kissed forever. I almost missed the plane! We had plans for her to come to Australia as soon as she was able, but I wasn't thinking about marriage at the time. This whole affair was completely unexpected for both of us.
As soon as I got back, I realized Hitomi was the one. We had the odd phone call, which was expensive back then, so we primarily communicated through letters in English. I have no idea how much she understood my writing, but I tried to keep it simple. I had an enjoyable but often difficult time understanding what she had written. All that mattered was the 'love you' at the end. Hitomi was trying hard to come to Australia, but her mother was dead set against it.
After a year, I went back to Japan and hitchhiked down to a business hotel in Kyushu. Hitomi was working late, and I was waiting in my room for her to arrive. There was a knock on my door, and she rushed into my arms, and a year's worth of feelings spilled out. It wasn't a very romantic place, but I had already decided I was going to ask her to marry me. And she said yes! Her mother did not approve, and I can understand why: I was an unknown quantity, a foreigner who was possibly going to take her daughter away. If Hitomi and I were going to be together, I would have to come to Japan.
I went back to Australia to start applying for a visa, but unbeknownst to me, her mother was burning all my letters and hanging up whenever I tried to call. When I finally arrived back in Japan in 1988, I couldn't contact Hitomi at all. She had entered a singing competition, won a recording contract, and was traveling the country as a professional singer. Her manager and mother were blocking my attempts to contact her, saying she had obligations and I would just complicate things.
This was a gut punch. Knowing I wasn't welcome in Miyazaki, I stayed in Tokyo, enrolled in Japanese language school, and worked in pubs, pachinko parlours, and gyms. One day, a mutual friend called, saying Hitomi is in Tokyo and wants to meet you. We met at Shinagawa station in a coffee shop. We hadn't seen each other in years, and she had matured, remaining as beautiful as ever with her sweet voice and manner. By this time, my Japanese was better than her English, and she was pleasantly surprised. After that, we rekindled our relationship very quickly. We were madly in love, and now we were 30 years old. According to her mother, no one else was going to marry a woman that old!
In 1990, seven years after we first met on that ferry, we had a wedding ceremony in a beautiful old church in Thames, New Zealand. Hitomi wore a white wedding dress, then later changed into a kimono, which certainly turned heads in my small hometown. Hitomi's mother wore a kimono too - she had come to accept that we could never be apart. My parents were totally enamoured of Hitomi, and said to me on the day, 'If you stuff this up, don't bother coming home!'
We built a beautiful life together in Japan, with our two sons, and supported each other through thick and thin. Hitomi passed away three and a half years ago, but I consider myself lucky that we were able to find each other again after so many years apart. We always said it was fate that we boarded that ferry. If we had a choice, we would have married much earlier. For 40 years, I could never take my eyes off her. She was always the most beautiful woman in the room.
