A few days in Hiroshima

My cousin lives in an apartment on the 39th floor of the tallest building in western Honshu. The balcony that curves around a of the building overlook the downtown area straight to the inland sea. In the haze of the afternoon, the mountains that form the islands in the bay looked ghostly in the distance. The apartment itself appears as though it could have stepped right out of Lost in Translation.

I arrived in Hiroshima on the Shinkansen. I assumed that I would be able to spot the building from the train station, but I walked out of the wrong exit. A hotel blocked my view. The taxi attendant didn't seem to know the name of the building when I said it in English, and so I asked a woman at the hotel if she spoke English. When I described the building, she looked confused. "For tourist?" she asked. I explained to her that my cousin lived there. She nodded in comprehension and found a taxi for me, directing the driver to my destination. At $7US for less than 2km, it was the most expensive cab ride I have ever taken.

My cousin's wife Teresa and her kids (Jillian and Justin) met me in the lobby, then took me up the glass elevator to their floor. The interior of the apartment building reminded me of a New York hotel. The center was hollow, and from the interior balcony you could see straight down to the ventilation fans on the 12th floor. We spent a little time catching up in her dining room and she offered me the most delicious clementines I have ever had.

That afternoon we toured a nearby museum with an impressive roster of artists, and then walked the Shukkei-en gardens. A bride and groom were taking their wedding photos and I found myself shadowing the photographer for a few shots. My cousin Ben was working late so we ate with the kids and went home. I didn't see him until after ten.

The next morning I was up early to visit the nearby castle. We walked across the grounds and then toured the interior displays. A video explained the construction, and I had the feeling that I had seen some of the characters before, perhaps in Osaka-jo. Near the top, there were rooms reconstructed to represent various households throughout the country.

From the top, the views of the city couldn't compare with those of my cousin's apartment, but it was interesting to think of it as the observatory tower of the ancient city. Sitting on a corner of the moat, we could clearly see the plan of the former castle.

Back down on the ground, we walked towards the covered arcade of shops that run across downtown Hiroshima. At the far end of the moat we stopped to watch a man throw bunches of bread crusts to the ducks. It appeared that feeding the ducks was more a job than a past-time. Seeing my cousin's kids, he handed them a bunch to throw out to the ducks themselves.

We dropped of Jillian at a MacDonalds in the Hondori for a birthday party and then set out to find a lunch of our own. After finding a garlic restaurant not yet ready for business, we decided to eat at a sushi restaurant around the corner. Our set lunches were filling, the soup was light and delicious. Afterwards, Teresa took me to a nearby gelato place where we shared a gigantic serving, scooping up the ice cream as quickly as we could so as not to spill it on the floor of the establishment.

Teresa dropped Jillian and Justin off with a neighbor who took them bowling and we strolled along the hondori towards peace park. At the park, Teresa showed me the A-bomb dome, the hulk of a concrete building that had been near the epicenter and had managed to stand. Later, while circumnavigating the ruins, their stately grandeur reminded me oddly of Aanjar, a set of Umayyad dynasty ruins west of Beirut.

We wandered past the children's monument, inspired by leukemia victim Sadako. When she learned she had the disease at 10 years of age, she began folding paper cranes, for according to Japanese tradition, folding 1000 cranes is something one does as a wish. She died before completing her task, but afterwards, children from around Japan and then around the world took up her cause.Pastic cases flanking the statue contained thousands of paper cranes, and all are stored in a nearby repository.

The day had started slightly overcast, but by the afternoon, it was as clear as the morning of August 6th. The museum was a devastating reminder of the horrors of the atom bomb, and a constant plea for the removal of nuclear weapons from earth. In a cenotaph in the center of the park, a fire lit from a flame that has been burning for 1200 years from atop Mt. Misen burns. It will be extinguished when the last nuclear weapon is destroyed.

As a museum, the Peace Memorial Museum stands along with the Tuol Seng museum in Phnom Penh as two of the most difficult museums to visit. Afterwards, we walked through the park. Teresa had told me how soothing it was to be in the park after the museum and she was right. She told me her kids didn't want to see it again after the first time, and I don't blame them. I told her that I wouldn't want to either. I was surprised she had toured it again with me. I told her that if I brought guests to the museum, I would remain outside waiting for them, walking the park grounds, remembering the displays but not confronted with them.
Posted by eku at December 2, 2007 8:32 AM