Hiroshima and Miyajima

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The most difficult part about visiting Hiroshima, beyond looking at the ruins of the A-Dome and thinking about the destruction of the atom bomb, was visiting the small shrine set up to honour Sakado Sasaki, the girl who died of leukemia at age eleven, whilst she struggle to fold one thousand paper cranes to wish away her disease. From the story of Sadako we have the international symbol of peace, the crane.

I'd hopped off the shinkansen early in the afternoon, and jumped on a tram to hit to Peace Park. The A-Dome was quite interesting. Once quite a large building, now just a ruin which has been listed under the world heritage programme as a reminder for the importance of international peace, it used to be a cultural centre in Hiroshima. On the 6th of August, 1945, at about 8:15 am, the Enola Gay dropped 'Little Boy', an atom bomb which exploded 600 metres above and 140 metres to the south-east of the A-Dome. The blast killed around 250,000 people on the day, and disintegrated into ash everything in a two kilometre radius. Somehow, because the A-Dome was directly beneath the bomb, an effect not unlike the calmness which people speak about at the 'eye of the cyclone', saved some of the building's edifice. Thus the ruined shell of the building, untouched as a reminder of the event, even old bricks from the walls lie strewn about on the ground.

Hiroshima, since the A-bomb, is a city dedicated to harmony and international peace. Japan is largely interested in the spiritual concept of harmony, so it's interesting to find a city which explicitly states this as its purpose. It has been rebuilt remarkably well. Some of its inhabitants and even members of the international community think, occasionally, too well, as the resonance of its significance is beginning to fade in international attitudes toward nuclear weaponry (Japan itself is changing its mind, and advocating their military necessity). On average, 5000 Japanese die each year as a consequence of the bomb, radiation poisoning being handed down for generations.

Peace Park, across the A-Dome, is a wonderful place. Its design is simple and understated, the monuments within it speak for themselves. As I walked through it children were playing on a swing set. Given the horrific and emotive stories behind the park's origin, I think it could be said that the mission of Hiroshima is a success, in the smaller picture of civic life, at least.

Further on is the cenotaph and 'Flame of Peace'. The cenotaph contains a registrar of every known victim from the dropping of the A-bomb and, backgrounded in its view, is the flame, which won't be extinguised until the last nuclear weapon on Earth is destroyed.

I had glanced at the park, then walked to the cenotaph, before heading to the shrine for Sadako. It is surrounded by glass cabinets holding thousands upon thousands of colourful cranes, and a statue for Sadako depicts her holding a crane aloft. The central idea of the shrine, and Sadako's story, I suppose, is that war has a manifold and nightmarish consequence upon innocents, far beyond the time of its rationalization. It was quite a difficult thing to look at, all the more so for the beautiful colours of the cranes.

I wandered about the park a little longer and discovered the 'Peace Bell', which may be rung by the public. A small poem inscribed upon a plaque before the bell states that the resonances of the bell shall extend the idea of peace across the world. After I chimed it, I noticed that the bell depicted all of the continents of the earth (see its picture of Australia, below).

After the park, I resolved to do something to lift my spirits a bit, and jumped on the tram to Miyajima, a small island set off Hirosima, which contains one of the most photographed objects of Japan, the floating torii. A large Buddhist archway which is built out from the shore, and which in high tide has the appearance of floating on water. Apparently it's been there since the 6th century, and even its current appearance is ancient (12th century).

Catching the ferry across to the island lifted my spirits. I love boat travel, I suppose it's some weird form of old world nostalgia, or simply the psychological event of being upon the ocean, watching the shore become tinier.

I had read that Miyajima had wildlife of deers and monkeys on a Mt. Misen, but when I alighted from the ferry, amid the 'oohs' and 'ahhs' of the other tourists, I found wild deer, mostly doe, outside of the ferry station, eating paper. The deer wander the place, being quite inquisitive, and let you pat them. The curiousity of a doe, I discovered, is ephemeral. As you approach one it regards you with open-eyed anticipation, then after sniffing your hand, as you reach out to pat it, and discovering that you are not edible, it rapidly becomes bored.

So, that was fun, and I headed over to the torii for the obligatory photograph, before heading up Mt. Misen. The island, I discovered, is amazingly beautiful, and it makes the careful gardens of Kyoto seem prudish. Oysters are a speciality in this area, and I noticed that street vendors were baking massive ones in their shells. I kept pushing on to Mt. Misen, I was going to walk up it, but I was rapidly running out of time, so took cable-cars up somewhere near the top. Still, the final walk to get to the very top, which I had to do very hurriedly given that the last cable-car down the mountain went at 5:30 pm, was enough of a trial. On the top of the mountain I looked out at the sea, and the small islands of Japan which dotted the harbour below. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to spot a monkey, though there were signs up there warning how to treat them (never look a monkey in the eye, apparently).

Coming down the mountain, it had become dark, and I had time to watch the lights on the shore of Hiroshima grow larger and think how this was my last small adventure in Japan. I felt ready to go home.

Having descended, I wandered the island's shores again. There are ryokan (Japanese boarding houses), and I think it would be a marvelous place to stay overnight. I found a vendor grilling oysters in their shell, devoured two very large ones (for a total of $5, 500 yen), and caught the ferry back, in exhaustion after the climb. I hurried all the way back to Hiroshima station (which took me an hour), jumped on the shinkansen, bought two Kirin beers, and closed my eyes, letting the train rush me through the darkness upon its great, thundering speeds, and the beer numb my fatigue, while I dozed and dreamed of how I would soon be home.

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Photos

Sadako, holding up a crane
Statue of Sadako, the little girl who died of leukemia at age 11, and tried to fold 1000 cranes to avert her disease.

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The A-Dome, as it was left be the blast.

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Through the ocular passage of the cenotaph, the Flame of Peace, behind it the A-Dome.

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Hiroshima citizens holding cranes

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The bell still resonating after I had struck the chime