There are multiple technical issues going on right now that I won't get into. I'm also still recovering from sinusitis. Anyway, due to all of that the easiest post for me to write about right now is Hiroshima, which is out of chronological order: I am going to save Tenri City for last, or possibly insert it before the disastrous story of my return home. Sorry about that. Here's a photo of the A-Bomb Dome.
Hroshima is a bustling city where streetcars cut across intersections and salarymen walk to work. But in its center lies the reason most come to visit: the A-Bomb Dome, the only UNESCO World Heritage site chosen because it is a ruin, and the only one where its state of decay is carefully preserved. The Atomic Bomb Museum commemorates the destruction and suffering unleashed on this city to preempt any Soviet involvement in the Pacific front.
I had difficulty walking through the park without choking up and eventually I had to sit down. Three years ago in a Japanese middle school in Kurume I learned about the story of
Sadako and the thousand paper cranes, but at the time I was more concerned with the bitterly sardonic way the school described the atomic bombs (they were introduced as "two visitors from America"). In Hiroshima, though, the monument simply tells the story: it does not layer on any extra meaning. You must do that yourself.
I sat on a park bench thinking to myself about the pain people inflict on others, and I summoned up the courage to ring the bell at the monument to Sadako only after a tour group of rowdy young students arrived and gave me an opportunity to look strong. I leaned over the few of them sitting around the monumentand gave the bell a big swing. I clapped my hands in prayer and bowed, then the laws of physics saw fit to slap the bell's chain in my face.
Hiroshima's Peace Park is a really powerful place. I have heard that Nagasaki is better in terms of architecture but where Hiroshima lacks in shock value it lets you fill in most of the details yourself. The museum is reknowned for its impartiality on the questions of right or wrong in World War II, admitting Japan's own war crimes before a deep discussion of the effects of the bomb. One of the exhibits in the museum was a burnt schoolboy's cap. I looked at the white cap then turned my head to the grammar school student standing next to me, still wearing a similar uniform. Anyone could be one of these victims, without any reason.
The park's fall colors were brilliant and some people were walking their dogs or playing with their kids. It was a normal day in the city, and nothing unpleasant was happening. The maple leaves found a strange juxtaposition in the ruined dome. Why, in the face of this overwhelming goodness, do people find reasons to do such horrible things to each other? Why can't we just leave our enemies alone? It seems like nobody can really explain this.
This photo is a lie. The one below is closer to the truth.
Before getting on the bus to Middle of Nowhere, Kyuushuu (there's a story for another day), I went to Miyajima. Others have told me of its virtues. For me, though, it was a hilarious tourist trap. The JR tour ferry thoughtfully included a loudspeaker which informed me in English of the exact width and height of the famous torii. I think this is a perhaps a sight best seen by ferry, because up close it is underwhelming. It was low tide, so it wasn't sitting in the water, but rather at the end of a beach filled with picture-taking tourists. While I did not enjoy the crowded sights, I did enjoy some "deer soft serve", vanilla ice cream covered with chocolate nougats that lent themselves to predictably hilarious simile.
My recommendation: just go to Nara instead. Actually, you should really just stick to the Kansai area in general. That is my favorite part of Japan.
