The Great Escape Part 1: Hiroshima

The pictures in this section were liberally stolen from the cameras of Veronica and her sister, Laura.

Friday, after closing ceremonies at Ritto Nishi Jr. High (we cleaned the school top-to-bottom, the principal gave another depressing speech about the inexorable onward march of time, and a good time was had by all), we kicked off the nonstop madcap Spring Break by jumping on the first Shinkansen headed south. Destination?

No, not Shin-Osaka. Not Hakata either. The first gold train on that list goes straight to Hiroshima. So we loaded up on train-station sushi

(hint: the leaf wrapping is inedible, but if you are dumb enough to eat some, it tastes kinda like mint) and leapt onto the Shinkansen. Two hours later…

Now, I’ll be perfectly candid when I tell you I had no idea what to expect. My mental image of Hiroshima was a smoking crater- a desolate atomic wasteland- despite the fact that I knew, intellectually, that it has been over 50 years and that reconstruction began mere months after the bomb fell. It turns out that modern Hiroshima is a wonderfully reconstructed, beautiful city filled with the same boundless optimism that infects the rest of Japan, in perhaps even greater quantities than cities further north- we’re looking at you, Tokyo. All the same, be warned that the museums we visited and sights we saw are REALLY disturbing- if it’s a touchy subject with you, feel free to skip the section below labeled PEACE PARK- when it’s young-child-friendly again, I’ll let you know with more bold text.

So the first night was spent checking into our hostel, and then exploring the city a touch by night. The above picture was taken in the market district.

. The next morning, we woke up early and took a streetcar (I wish I could say it was named Desire, I really do) to the Peace Park- a huge, grassy park about 250 meters southwest of the hypocenter.

This is the Bomb Dome, located just across the river from the Peace Park. They’ve reinforced it a few times, to keep it looking just the way it did after the bomb dropped, but otherwise they’ve just left it alone. It is the creepiest building I have ever seen, despite the beautiful weather. The skeletal dome on top used to be covered in a distinctive green copper, making it one of the prewar landmarks that everybody knew about. Just a few steps from here is the Students’ Monument.

This one commemorates all the students that were pressed into service at the time of the explosion- human resources were low even before the explosion, and schoolkids were not exempt from assisting the war effort. A lot of them were in the target area when the bomb went off.

Across the river is the famous “Sayaka Memorial”- the little girl who believed that folding paper cranes would cure her of her radiation-induced leukemia. She didn’t manage to fold all the cranes she needed, so her classmates finished the job after she passed away, and built a statue in the Peace Park for her memory. Ever since, schoolchildren have brought TONS of paper cranes to the memorial- so many that the city has erected a bunch of glass cases (like the one above) to hold them all. There are registration cards for where you’re from and how many you’ve folded- and almost all the cases are stuffed full to overflowing.

Here’s the main promenade. There’s more around in the Peace Park than this, including a cinerarium (look it up) and a monument to the Korean victims of the bomb, but in the interests of time and my psyche, we’ll skip ahead a bit. The building at the end of this long walk is the Peace Museum- admission: 50 yen (‘bout 40 cents). In front is a small arch- that’s the cenotaph, holding a registry of all the victim’s names. As people who were affected by the bomb pass away, they get added to the registry. In front of that, closest to the camera, is a flame (can’t really see it from here) that will burn until the world demolishes the last of the nuclear weapons.

The Peace Museum tells an in-depth story of exactly what happened that morning, including video testimonies of the victims, artifacts that survived the bomb, medical supplies, keloid scars in formaldehyde, human shadows etched into concrete, steel doors twisted by heat and shockwaves, stopped watches (all at 8:15, the time of the blast)- a real-life hall of horrors. There’s also a wall covered in hundreds of letters- the Mayor of Hiroshima has written a formal protest every time a country tests a nuclear weapon. The manner of these letters are always the same- “Dear Mr. Ambassador of (The United States, France, Great Britain, Russia), your country tested a nuclear weapon at (place) (time). I am writing to inform you of my sincere wish that you would just give this crazy business up. Trust me, I know how these things end. Sincerely, The Mayor Of Hiroshima.” Well, something to that effect, anyways. It’s haunting, and there are things in that building I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

Don’t get me wrong, though. The overall tone is one of rebuilding, and moving forward. It’s important that they burn that flame in hopes of nuclear disarmament, and that they keep writing letters, and that admission to the museum is so cheap that anyone in the world could come in. They just want people to know, to remember, and to first and foremost realize how destructive these weapons are. Not a whole lot of bitterness- in fact, as mentioned before, the city is mind-bogglingly optimistic. There’s a corridor in the shopping district where, as soon as the stores have closed for the night, entire TRIBES of street musicians set up and hold concerts (for free, mind you, as begging for money is outlawed without a permit) to gaggles of enthusiastic schoolgirls who sit in neat rows in front of their erstwhile rockstars. Not once did I get an askance look for being Western nor even disapproval when they asked me where I was from and I answered “America.” They were genuinely happy we were there. So we enjoyed a late lunch, bought some pastries from Anderson’s (which is both a bakery AND the Danish Consulate in Japan- how cool is that?) and walked down the river to have a bit of a picnic. Saw a few temples, a big cool park full of people playing various outdoorsy sports, and returned to the hotel to catch a few hours before hopping on the ferry in the morning to go to Miyajima.

HEY LOOK! IT’S SAFE! ALL DONE TALKING ABOUT ATOMIC TRAGEDY!

So. Off the coast of Hiroshima is Hiroshima’s polar opposite: Miyajima. A holy island where, in accordance with strict Shinto law, no-one has ever given birth or died. It’s forbidden. You’ve all seen pictures of this place, but here’s one more that might jog your memory:

This is the island with the famous floating shrine-gate. It’s a beautiful place- mountainous, heavily forested, and undeveloped save for a thin strip around the edge of the island- everything else is little huts, temples and shrines along the paths up to the top. We climbed two out of the three mountains in less than a day, so they’re not craaazy big or anything, but they are QUITE nice. A slide-show follows, to illustrate the cool things on the island- I think it might serve me well to just get out of the way for a minute here. See you when you’ve flipped through the pictures.

So. Miyajima. Sacred Island, big gate, fun place. Nice, eh?

We found (halfway up the island) a Japanese hiker who lived in Mexico and spoke perfect Spanish- awesome and strange. Not that I speak any Spanish to brag about, but I love unusual multilingual conversation.

So after a fun day in the woods, we hopped back on the Shinkansen and wound our way back to Shiga. I bid the girls goodnight and got four hours of sleep before the big trip began in earnest.

-fin-