The Moon! It's the Moooon!

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Loyalty to authority is a virtue that was highly prized and respected in the days of the Samurai. Warriors would follow the commands of their peers without question; sometimes sacrificing their very lives if it were required. To die on the command of your emperor or Shogun would be an honourable death.
It is a little known fact that the modern day equivalent of the Emperor or Shogun works as a ticket collector on the top station of the chairlift down from Matsuyama castle. He may be humble in appearance, his uniform is well kept but uninspiring, his demeanour is friendly rather than authoritative, but as soon as I saw him - from one Samurai spirited warrior to another - I spotted his lineage. This, I knew, was a man who demanded more respect than your average chairlift ticket collector and it was apparent from the lack of acknowledgement he received for his efforts from Joe public that I was the only one equipped with the Samurai savvy required to see him for who he truly was.
Others who were there that day, my wife included; tell how a gangly gaijin chased a chairlift seat to the edge of a sheer drop having mistaken the ticket collectors "wait here for the next chair" gesture as an instruction to catch the chair he had just missed. They say that, had the fool not heard the cries of the instructor running after him to "STOP!" he would have leaped off said drop in the hope of catching that chair.
It is true that I ran after a chairlift seat, through the "Do not cross this boundary" mark (conveniently marked in English), sprinting toward the edge of a pretty impressive drop. It is true that had the ticket collector not come after me (picture the scene in slow motion - the ticket collector breaking into a run, his cap dropping to the floor as he cries "IIIIIIEEEE!!!!") I would have made that leap.
However, in my defence, I definitely would have made it. I may not have caught it before it dropped off the edge, but before it swung clear of the ground I definitely would have had a hand on it. Instead, I watched my quarry pull away from me as my Road Runner style screechy dusty brakes were applied at the Shoguns command.
I stood on the edge of the abyss and caught my breath before turning to face my audience. I found myself faced by a gob-smacked but relieved ticket collector; behind him stood a shocked Vik and a bemused queue of camera clad Japanese tourists.
Well, I did what any self respecting Samurai would have done. I grabbed the next seat with vigour, smiling hard as I rattled it in a "I've got you now you pesky critter" proud hunter type of way. The "it's OK folks, I do this all the time - I'm a professional" look that I gave the onlookers seemed to cut the tension and before long I was airborne with my back to the crowd.
Vik's momentary shock quickly cracked into uncontrollable laughter and it wasn't long before she was bent double in hysterics. Fortunately for her, being bent double with ones arms holding ones stomach as if your guts may bust out at any moment is the ideal shape for being scooped up by a chairlift seat. Before long Vik was a quivering mess of giggles in the seat behind me. She still laughs like a looney whenever the incident is mentioned.

PS. Before I go I just wanted to mention the amount of time Vikki spent in the Hiroshima Memorial Museum. To make it easier to comprehend I've prepared a little scale:
- Average Japanese tour group visitor: 45 minutes
- Suggested time in official guide: 1 hr 30 minutes
- Bob (who started reading everything then lost interest): 2 hrs 30 minutes
- Vikki: 4 (FOUR) AND a half hours.
If you know of anyone who has or could spend that much time in a museum reading stuff please let me know as I'm worried that its not normal.
She read everything... even the emergency exit signs and instructions on the hand-dryers in the toilets.

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Photos

Fire Fish
This fish is supposed to protect buildings from fire. Clearly the one on Matsuyama castle is faulty as the place has burned down a ridiculous number of times. The place is now covered in fire hydrants and hoses.

Every hour, on the hour...
...the place packed out so that the crowd could collectively "Coo" at the moving clock.

The A-Dome at Night
This is one of the last remaining A-bombed buildings and is a symbol of the devestation caused when at 8:15am on 6th August 1945 the Americans dropped "Little Boy" on Hiroshima. The bomb detonated a few hundred metres from here at a height of 600m.

Comments

[Eggs on Legs]

Vik always did score high on 'Attention to Detail'!
Just wondering why your blog location is showing as 'Africa'. Gremlins afoot perchance? Shaz. xxx