Nagasaki: Great Food, Crazy People, and Nuclear Tragedy

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It would be inaccurate to say that Ryan and I were up at the crack of dawn. When we met at the street corner in front of the Bank of Hiroshima’s local branch, dawn was still slumbering soundly, a full hour yet before she would relieve the night shift. Hiroshima is a pretty quiet town at 5:30 am. The only people up at this time on a regular basis are taxi drivers, truckers, and weary-eyed boyfriends dropping their girlfriends off at home after secretly spending the night together.

Considering that these are the only people up at 5:30 and they already have vehicles, it’s amazing how many taxis are nevertheless zooming about the city, searching for elusive fares. Actually, it’s pretty amazing how many taxis are zooming about the city at any time of day, searching for elusive fares, but that’s a whole other matter. And I guess I shouldn’t question good fortune for it’s relatively easy to hail a taxi in Hiroshima, even at 5:30 in the morning when not a soul except for taxi drivers, truckers, and discreet couples is awake.

Unlike most of my travel stories which involve narrowly missing my train/plane/bus, this trip went exceptionally smooth. We arrived at Hiroshima Station with time to spare and were therefore able to get quite nicely settled on the Hakata-bound shinkansen before it departed at 6:00. The only real glitch in our travel plan occurred when we arrived at Hakata Station. The bus we wanted to take from Hakata Station to our desired destination of Nagasaki was sold out. Apparently, the 7:48 am bus to Nagasaki is a popular one, Future travelers be warned: book your tickets early. As it was, we had to wait a whole 30 freakin’ minutes until the next bus, which thankfully wasn’t sold out. Oddly enough, when we boarded at quarter after 8, we discovered it wasn’t even half sold. Or, for that matter, a quarter sold, leading us to question the accuracy of the sales associate’s early claims with regard to the 7:48 bus. Does that half hour really make such a difference? I guess it must be the make or break point for some people. “No,” they say at the ticket counter, “you get me on that 7:48 am bus. The 8:18 is unacceptable, and don’t give me none of that ‘sold out’ crap either.” At any rate, we were on our way to Nagasaki, enjoying some good napping and anime watching along the way.

They say (whoever they are) that there is no rest for the wicked, and Ryan and I are two very wicked people. Just ask around Hiroshima. There isn’t an all-you-can-eat buffet restaurant manager who doesn’t whimper and curl up into the fetal position at the sound of our names. So as there is no rest for the likes of us, we had to stay the course. As soon as we rolled in Nagasaki, we disembarked from the bus and immediately started our sightseeing. Nagasaki, as I’m sure you all remember from your history textbooks, became instantly famous on August 9, 1945 at preciously 11:02 am when a 4.5 tonne plutonium-core atomic bomb detonated approximately 500 metres above the city. I don’t think I need to reiterate the grisly details of what happened after that. Rather, I’m going to trust that back in the day you had a quality teacher like Ron Horton who went through all that with you as part of the Social Studies curriculum.

Learning about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in the classroom, however, is a lot different from actually being in the cities. I’m sure we’d all agree that there is a certain safety within the classroom and the world of academia in general. Through scholastic study, we look at things objectively, as a series cause and effect. Human lives are reduced to mere statistics. Of course we can all commiserate with each other that the 73, 884 deaths which resulted from the atomic bombing (this statistic, speaking of statistics, takes into account only the first six months after the bombing. Every year since, the number grows as the long term effects of the atomic bomb, i.e. radiation poisoning, claim more victims) was a terrible tragedy. But visiting Hiroshima or Nagasaki adds another element you don’t get in the sanctuary of the classroom: the human element. Hessen and I often throw around the phrase, “bringing it home.” That is exactly how I would describe the experience of being in Nagasaki.

As such, our morning was a somber one. The first place we visited after getting off the bus was Hypocentre Park. At the north end of the park stands a great black obelisk that marks the exact spot where, 500 metres overhead, the bomb detonated. At the base of the obelisk are a series of concentric circles which I took to represent the force of the bomb’s blast. I know I said I wasn’t going to go into details relating to the aftermath of the bomb, and I certainly don’t want to suggest that Ron Horton’s instruction wasn’t sufficient enough, but purely out of a desire to further explain the monument, I just want to mention that the bomb’s devastation can be measured according to various radiuses. For example, everything within a 1.5 kilometre radius from the hypocenter was completely destroyed; between a 1.5 - 2.5 kilometre radius, 80% was destroyed. And so forth and so on it goes like ripples in water after the casting of a stone. That these ripples are represented in the current monument allows you to visualize, in miniature, the bomb’s blast as it grew and expanded from the hypocenter, leaving charred, skeletal ruins and scorched earth in its wake. It was an eerie feeling being in the presence of the obelisk. 60 years and 4 months ago, in the very spot I was standing, 500 metres directly overhead, a weapon detonated and the world changed. There’s something humbling and also profoundly unsettling about that knowledge.

From Hypocentre Park we moved on to the Nagasaki Peace Park. Along the way we met our first Nagasaki crazy person. She had appeared out of nowhere, as though she had been hiding in the bushes waiting for unsuspecting tourists to wander by. Her sudden appearance had a bizarre quality about it that was captured so brilliantly (and comically) in the episode of The Simpsons wherein Homer and Flanders become friends and Homer magically emerges from the hedges, appearing in Flanders’ driveway. From that infamous scene we learnt from Rod and Todd Flanders that “lies make Baby Jesus cry.” I’m not the type that would try to make Baby Jesus cry through lying, but I may have nonetheless achieved the same effect with my indifference toward the crazy lady. Her sudden and bizarre appearance notwithstanding, I was also put off by the fact that she really, really seemed eager to shake my hand. Now I’ve been living in Japan for 18 months and I’ve pretty much had my fill of people wanting to shake my hand for the pure novelty of it. Consequently, I am very reluctant to indulge the locals’ curiosity in foreign rituals. Even more so when a local happens to be crazy. I politely wished the woman a nice day and keep walking, leaving her outstretched hand to seek its next target, which happened to be Ryan. We are very similar, Ryan and I. Ryan, however, is a much more tolerant person. He therefore took the hand offered to him. He was immediately pulled into the crazy lady’s wrestling-like embrace. She then turned on the waterworks and buried her face in Ryan’s t-shirt. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, partly because I don’t understand Japanese and partly because her face was buried in Ryan’s t-shirt, but I do know that she kept repeating the same question. Ryan, for his part, kept repeating the same answer. This went on for a good ten minutes, including three attempts by Ryan to excuse himself, only to be pulled back into the bear-hug. He finally got out the crowbar, pried himself loose, and we made a hasty escape. We were pursued for a few feet but luckily our longer legs and quicker strides ensured a clean get away except for one wet t-shirt. Ryan informed me that she kept asking if he was alright and where he was going. Not listening to his reply, she also instructed Ryan to make sure he came back alive. Where, exactly, it was that she hoped Ryan would come back alive from was not especially made clear. What was clear was that this poor woman had some issues going on, the origin of which we speculated could be traced back to that day in August,1945.

Like Hypocentre Park, the Peace Park was established to commemorate those who died as a result of the bomb as well as to express a wish for lasting peace. The park houses several peace-themed statues donated by cities around the world, but the focal point of the park is the approximately 10 metre bronze statue located, like the hypocenter obelisk, at the north end of the park. The statue, a widely recognized symbol of Nagasaki, is a curious looking thing. The plague next to the statue claims that the artist’s intention was to capture the human form in a manner such that it resembled no particular race. In this regard, the artist certainly succeeded. In fact, I think maybe he succeeded a little too well, as the statue goes so far as to not even resemble anything human. Nonetheless, you have to give him points for good intentions.

Another interesting fact I learnt about the famous statue (again, thanks to the plague next to it) is that the position of each of the statue’s limbs is highly symbolic. For example, the right arm points to the sky to remind us of the devastation caused by the bomb. The left arm is stretched outright, palm-down in what is meant to be a calm, reassuring manner, instilling a feeling of peacefulness. The right leg is folded up toward the statue’s torso. This is meant to represent a meditative pose. What is he meditating on you ask? I’m glad you did. The answer, as if you couldn’t guess for yourself, is the wastefulness of war and the meaning of peace. Lastly but not leastly, the left leg is firmly planted on the ground in front of the statue, depicting a readiness to spring into action to aid and comfort those who are victims of war. I confess truly that I didn’t feel the same sense of awe at the sight of this statue as I did the obelisk in the Hypocentre Park. Rather, I could probably sum up my feelings as being embarrassment for the city that commissioned this odd piece of work. Fortunately, the Nagasaki Peace Museum made up for the rather lackluster Peace Park.

Our first impression of the Peace Museum was that it’s a nice, bright, open building. It is spacious and pleasantly free from congestion, and high windows let in lots of light. This only applies to the lobby, as we soon discovered. The actual museum is underground, and descending the wide, spiral staircase was a bit like, as the Lonely Planet guidebook put it, a “descent into hell.” Given the nature of the museum, however, this comparison is not unwarranted. As one might expect, a trip to the Peace Museum is not what you would call a fun, family outing. The route through the museum begins with a depiction of life in Nagasaki before the bombing. Here we learnt about the relatively large international population in Nagasaki—the reason why many Japanese thought Nagasaki would not be a target for bomb attacks—and its importance as a port and ship-manufacturing city—the reason why it was a target for bomb attacks. Leaving this exhibit room, the final showpiece before entering the next section is a battered clock that stopped at exactly 11:02. This clock hauntingly segued us into a room full of large items damaged in the bombing. This room is meant to recreate what Nagasaki looked like after the bombing. Water towers, ladders, bridge trusses, and other metal objects twisted and deformed by the power and heat of the bomb are on display here. So too are cement pillars and statues bleached and broken by the same destructive force.

Following the route past a replica of a damaged wall from the Urakami Cathedral, once the largest cathedral in Asia, we found ourselves in a much larger exhibit hall which houses a number of displays, including one pertaining to the events leading up to the bombing of Nagasaki. An interesting fact I took from this display was that Nagasaki was not the originally intended target back on August 9, 1945. The American B-29 bomber’s original destination was a city called Kokura. However, as fate would have it, Kokura was overcast that morning, forcing the crew to move on to their alternate target of Nagasaki. The city was likewise overcast, but just as the bomber’s crew was contemplating a return to base due to low fuel, the clouds momentary parted and Nagasaki’s doom was assured.

Other displays in this section of the museum centre on the damage done by the initial blast, the resulting fires, and the radioactive aftermath. This was not an easy portion of the museum to deal with. Not that any part is; it’s just that this part of the museum contains a large collection of personal artifacts found amid the ruins of the charred city. Most artifacts, when the information is known, are labeled according to whom they belonged to, followed by a brief story. For example, a pair of glasses might a have placard that reads thusly: Glasses belonging to Mr. Hiroshi Okamoto. These glasses were found in the Urakami district several metres from Mr. Okamoto’s body by Keiko Okamoto, his youngest daughter and only surviving member of the Okamoto family. This is what I meant earlier about adding the human element to the tragedy. A pair of glasses is something we can easily recognize and relate to. Subsequently, through this small connection to the owner, we can create a much larger visualization of the glasses’ owner as ourselves, or as someone we know. This visualization process forces us to confront the human facet within the tragedy, thereby allowing us to better appreciate the magnitude of the catastrophic events in a way that a textbook cannot teach.

From the large exhibit hall we moved through a corridor that contained testimonies from survivors of the atomic bomb (which further conveyed the human aspect of the bombing) into the final exhibit room which is dedicated to, as the museum brochure says, “a world free of nuclear weapons.” In actuality, this exhibit room is not as hopeful as its description suggests. Perhaps the explanation for this is that there has been little reason to be hopeful in the past six decades since nuclear weapons were first used. The displays in this room remind us how world governments have continually ignored the voices of their own voting populace in order to further their nuclear ambitions. In addition, we are also reminded how these same governments have even ignored their own treaties, preferring to maintain the current nuclear status quo over honouring promises. As in Hiroshima, I ended my trip to the Nagasaki Peace Museum feeling angry and frustrated, not to mention helpless. As I said, a trip to the Peace Museum is not a fun, family outing.

Ryan and I took a brief lunch break to refuel our bodies and to reflect upon all we had done and seen over the course of the morning before setting off for our next destination. Nagasaki has a very interesting history, and not just because of the bomb. For many years Nagasaki was Japan’s only window to the outside world. While the rest of the country completely isolated itself, western ideas and technology slowly trickled into the port city of Nagasaki thanks to the arrival of Portuguese missionaries and shortly thereafter, Portuguese trade emissaries. Trade was mutually lucrative for all concerned, and thus the presence of a few foreigners was mildly tolerated during a period when ties with the outside world were severed. However, in subsequent years, the perceived threat posed by the spread of Christianity forced the local Shogunate to ban the religion. Missionaries were expelled, but traders were allowed to stay so long as they complied with a strict set of rules imposed upon them. The new rules were so strict they went so far as to stipulate that all foreigners must confine themselves to a small, artificial island specifically made to segregate them from Japanese society. This artificial island, which later became an exclusive Dutch colony after the complete expulsion of the Portuguese in 1639, was called Dejima, and it was next on our agenda of places to visit.

The original Dejima has long since been swallowed up by one of Japan’s never-ceasing land reclamation projects. Recently, however, there has been an increasing desire to fully restore the site to its original appearance as it is an important historic point of interest. I always shudder when I hear the words restored to its original appearance used in conjunction with historic Japanese buildings, for this phrase erroneously implies that Hello Kitty tea shops were an integral part of Japan’s feudal era. As my various experiences have taught me, visiting a place that has been “restored to its original appearance,” without a certain degree of skepticism would be less than prudent. Dejima was pleasantly free from Hello Kitty tea shops, but its worth noting that the site is still under construction. There’s still lots of time for the contractors to put one in.

Allowing Dejima some forgiveness due to the fact that it is under construction, I was nevertheless hard pressed to find anything that could convince me it would be a worthy attraction once completed. Certainly the buildings themselves are an intriguing juxtaposition of European and Japanese architecture, featuring the verandas, windows and siding reminiscent of western construction coupled with Japanese tiled roofs. Inside, the marriage between European and Japanese styles is just as prominent. Roll top desks and four-post beds rest upon tatami flooring; framed pictures and sconces adorn the usually bare Japanese walls. Only a handful of buildings were so fashioned, however. The vast majority are used to display various facts and artifacts relating to Dejima’s history. By in large, these displays focus on the Japanese reaction to having foreigners so close (yet completely segregated) during a period of intense seclusion. This perspective is valid, I suppose, considering the events took place in Japan—and we are in Japan—but both Ryan and I were interested in learning how the Portuguese and later the Dutch felt about being made to live in what basically amounts to a elaborate prison for over 200 years. This information was not forthcoming. Not even in the short film meant to depict life in Dejima is this topic covered. Rather, the film, told from the perspective of a Japanese man assigned to work with the Dutch traders, focuses on the foreigners’ weird customs. In one typical scene, the narrator exclaims with great excitement, “They ate the most unusual foods using a knife and fork!” Maybe it’s just me, but I find it a little confusing that any mention of how Dejima’s inhabitants felt about being made to live in forced segregation isn’t evident, especially considering the current historic site is their former residence.” Then again, maybe the residents of Dejima legitimately didn’t mind being under forced segregation. They were, after all, amassing abundant fortunes through their trade with Japan. And that might make anything palatable.

5:00 pm approached and we were invited to kindly leave the site as it was closing for the day. On our way out, Ryan and I contemplated the irony of being asked to leave a place set aside specifically to keep foreigners in. We didn’t contemplate this too long, though, as our thoughts quickly turned to finding sustenance. For connoisseurs of fine food, Nagasaki is a good place to be: we ate well and we ate often. The proprietor of the hotel we had checked into made several recommendations for places to eat and we decided not to limit ourselves. We both enjoy eating and felt that in keeping with the touring we’d done during the course of the day, we would do a tour of Nagasaki’s eating establishments during the night. First up was a little Mom and Pop shop in the Shianbashi entertainment district which serves the best gyouza (Chinese pork dumplings) Ryan swears he ever had. I haven’t eaten as many gyouza over the course of my life as Ryan has, but I’d certainly say that Ryan’s accolades are justified. After downing two heaping plates of gyouza and vowing to make our mutual friend Anne envious over our feast, we made our way to the water-front where there was reported to be a plethora of restaurants serving tantalizing victuals. Along the way, unfortunately, we got a little lost and it was during this time that we met more of Nagasaki’s crazy denizens (perhaps this was karma for our earlier vow).

Sensing that we were lost, Ryan approached a passing couple to ask for directions. He opened with the standard Japanese expression to initiate a request and/or excuse an intrusion, “sumimasen,” only to have the couple completely ignore him. He repeated himself and was ignored once more. We were the only four people on the lonely street so it didn’t seem likely that they would have thought we were talking to someone else. As the couple disappeared down the street, Ryan tried to get their attention once again but more vigorously than his previous attempts. This time they turned and acknowledged Ryan, as though they were coming out of a trance. They weren’t overly helpful but with their vague directions we managed to get back to a place we recognized. It was a very unusual exchange and we still have no idea why they initially ignored us.

The place we recognized happened to be Megane-bashi, or translated directly to English, Spectacle Bridge. This being another rather famous site in Nagasaki, we decided to take a time out from our quest for food to snap some photos. Approaching the bridge, we passed an elderly man carrying an arm full of parcels who shot us a look of absolute hatred. It was the most frightening look I have ever received, including all the times I’ve called Riva Gaffs. We became worried when we noticed that the man had done an about-face after we’d passed him and was now following us. We came to the point were the path split, one way leading down to the river for a view of Megane-bashi, the other leading straight ahead. Rather than going down to the poorly lit river bank as we intended, Ryan wisely suggested we stick the path we were presently following as it lead to a more well lit and populated area. This advice was sound, for as soon as we reached the well lit section of the path, the old man gave up whatever quest he was on and turned away. We waited a few minutes until we were sure the old guy was out of sight then went back and got our photos down by the river. As with our other encounters with crazy people on this day, we had no explanation for the old guy’s strange behaviour. What possessed him to think he could challenge two significantly younger and more able-bodied men is beyond me. Perhaps he was packing a weapon of mass destruction in those parcels of his, or he was well connected with the yakuza or something. At any rate, Ryan made the safest decision for us and we shrugged off the whole experience as just another random, crazy Nagasakian.

After our unplanned detour and the crazy people we met along the way, we eventually found the water-front area. The water-front is evidently where Nagasaki’s youth come for a good time on a Saturday night. It was bopping when we were there. The water-front area boasts appealing night-views of the harbour, numerous restaurants featuring a variety of foods, a picturesque boardwalk, and outdoor seating, the latter being a rarity in Japan. We walked up and down the crowded boardwalk to find a restaurant that appealed to us and eventually settled at an establishment which specialized in seafood. There we both enjoyed some deliciously prepared tuna: not a fish I typically enjoy, but at this particular restaurant they served it pan-fried and it was melt-in-your-mouth tender and juicy.

Believe it or not, our eating tour was not yet finished. Actually, if you know either Ryan or myself, then you are likely to believe it. Following our visit to the water-front, we were determined to find a place which served Nagasaki’s specialty dishes: champon and sara-udon. Back near our hotel we found such a place. For a mere 700 yen (about $6.80 CN), I received a generous helping of sara-udon, a dish consisting of dried udon noodles topped with stir-fried vegetables and sea-food. Delicious and filling. We were now well and truly content that we had had an excellent sampling of Nagasaki’s fares. Our wallets exhausted and our bellies full near to the bursting point, we decided to take a late night stroll down to Nagasaki’s notorious Chinatown district. There were three reasons for this decision. One reason being that a nice stroll would help digest all the food we’d crammed into our stomachs; another being that it would be interesting to see what Chinatown looked like; the third being that I was certain that by the time we got to Chinatown I would be ready to cap off the evening with some delicious steamed pork buns. Sadly, we only succeeded in having a nice stroll to help digest all the food we’d crammed into our stomachs. For whatever reason, Chinatown was shut down tighter than a Canadian government office when you arrive ten minutes before official closing and you really, really need to get a document signed that same day. Not a soul to be found. It was a bit like Hiroshima at 5:30 am, only it was prime time Saturday night. It seemed odd to us that such a famous part of town had shut down during the liveliest part of the evening, but we couldn’t deny the evidence right before our eyes: Chinatown had turned in for the night. We were therefore unable to get a good look at Chinatown, unless you count the sight of locked storefronts and darkened windows. What’s worse, I couldn’t get my delicious steamed pork buns.

Perhaps it was for the best though, as the night was wearing on and we had an early start the next morning. Plus we had promised the proprietor of the Japanese style hotel we were staying at that we’d be in by midnight so they could lock the main door after us (when the hotel you run is also your home, you sleep more comfortably when you know the door is locked). Satisfied with a good day of exploring, our bellies full of fine food, and having had quite enough of crazy people thank you very much, Ryan and I bid Nagasaki good night and, taking our queue from Chinatown, turned in for the night.

Tomorrow would be new day posing new adventures.

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Photos

Nagasaki's Peace Statue
The famous, if not a little strange, statue that resides at the north end of Nagasaki's Peace Park.

Hypocentre Park
The atomic bomb detonated 500 metres above this momument on August 9, 1945 at 11:02 am.

Hypocentre Park 2
Upclose with the hypocentre monument. Note the bottles of water that have been left as offerings to those who died of thrist, the bomb having eradictated the city's supply of drinkable water.

Hypocentre Park 3
This ivy-covered river bank runs adjacent to Hypocentre Park. It is said that when the bomb detonated, there were 20 local school children swimming in the river.

Hypocentre Park 4
This statue rests in Hypocentre Park. The baby is meant to symbolize Japan after the bombing and the woman represents the support offered by the world community in responce to the tragedy.

Peace Park
This statue was donated by the People's Republic of China to the City of Nagasaki; a noble gesture considering the history between Japan and China.

Peace Park 2
Nagasaki's famous Peace Statue, viewed from the front.

Peace Park 3
The Peace Fountain, found coincidently enough,in the Peace Park. Through the spires of water meant to resemble the wings of a dove, Nagasaki's Peace Statue points to the sky and meditates on peace.

Dejima
This is the main alleyway in Nagasaki's historic site Dejima. Note the signs to the near left. They are a dead give-away that this site has been "restored to its original appearance."

Dejima 2
This greenish/bluish building houses the main collection of artifacts at Dejima. The author took the photo from a park which features a scale model of Dejima, something the Dutch inhabitants undoubtably also had back in 16-18 hundreds.

Dejima 3
Yet another photo from Dejima. This building is the former Nagasaki International Club, and is a likely future candidate for a Hello Kitty tea shop.

Mmmmmm, Gyouza
A blurry Ryan enjoys what he swears are the best gyouza he's ever tasted.

Megane-bashi
It's a bridge that looks like a pair of glasses given the right conditions: light, water height, reflection--that sort of thing. Obviously the conditions were not in the author's favour when he took this photo.

Down on the Boardwalk
THE place to be on a Saturday night in Nagasaki. It's so exciting here the author couldn't even get a steady shot.

Nagasaki's Famous Sara-udon
you know you want some.

Chatting up the Locals
Full of gyouza, tuna and sara-udon, the author was feeling friendly and tried making time with a local lady. Hey, get those eyes up!!