The pulsing commerce of downtown Hiroshima contrasts with the sombre memorial of the Atomic Bomb Dome. Photo / 123RF
The pulsing commerce of downtown Hiroshima contrasts with the sombre memorial of the Atomic Bomb Dome. Photo / 123RF
Twentieth-century tragedy provides a moving lesson in post-war recovery during a visit to Japan's Hiroshima, writes Josh Martin.
The walls of the ryokan (Japanese inn) were, quite literally, paper-thin. So much so, while brushing my teeth I overheard two loud Americans comparing the World War II memorials in Nagasaki to Hiroshima's.
"In Nagasaki they aren't like 'Oh poor us, our city was destroyed'. They are much more humble than that, and just don't make it all about the war and the dead," said the tactless tourist. Her companion defiantly added, "Well, ya know, they started it. What do they expect?"
And they say travel broadens the mind. Unbeknown to you or me, historic war sites the world over are actually in silent competition to attract the most sympathy and tourist spending without being obvious about it. Hiroshima is losing, apparently. I took that overheard advice with a pinch of salt and stepped aboard the high-speed Shinkansen train to Hiroshima.
We started below ground, at the National Peace Memorial Hall. The guard's occasional cough was the only sound among the stories of the obliterated citizenry. A 360-degree imprint adorned the walls. The picture showed the city immediately after it was flattened.
The central pivot was the marble face of a clock forever showing the most significant time in the city's history: 8.15am on August 6, 1945. We lingered long, reading personal accounts and not just because it offered respite from the peak summer heat outside, where school groups jostled for the best plaque-reading position.
A small protest group gathered outside the centrepiece of Memorial Peace Park, the skeletal remains of the A-Bomb Dome, and coaxed us in with ringbinders and family medical histories of long-term radiation poisoning. The protest leader, who was a baby in 1945, told us he was fired from his job as a guide at the adjacent Peace Memorial Museum, because of his views on the health defects still facing Hiroshima's survivors.
We were immediately jolted from the paint-by-numbers "attack, despair and rebuild" stories from 5th form history lessons. The Dome's shell was the only structure to remain partially intact after the Enola Gay's visit. To tourists like us, it could mean the devastation of a war long over and the beginning of modern Japan but, to this knowledgeable local, the A-Bomb Dome symbolises "the pain of ongoing health problems caused by radiation, affecting my ancestors and family".
It was easy to understand, with such long-lasting, if not officially acknowledged, health effects why the title of almost every park, gate, bell, tower and memorial is prefaced with the word "peace".
Before World War II the Hiroshima Genbaku Dome was a rather unremarkable exhibition hall but, as the lone surviving city building, it now symbolises the moment Hiroshima changed from a military headquarters to a city proudly embracing its pacifist culture. The dome's rusted frames and twisted slabs sit juxtaposed against the planned city centre. My eyes were always anchored to it.
Downtown Hiroshima had neither Tokyo's treneon, open-all-hours vibe, nor Kyoto's imperial city charm. The tree-lined boulevards, perfect square blocks and traffic light overkill had an American town planner's fingerprints all over it. Thankfully, the American-led rebuild of the city kept Hiroshima's contribution to Japanese cuisine, the okonomiyaki.
The A-Bomb Dome, the ruins of the former Hiroshima Prefecture Industrial Promotion Hall which was destroyed by the an atomic bomb in 1945. Photo / 123RF
After much sombre reflection, a fried food injection of endorphins was necessary. We followed the business suits into their favourite lunchtime hangout. Like any true authentic restaurant, its popularity with locals meant online recommendations, a website or even a scrap of English on the menu was unnecessary.
Our host said the Hiroshima take on the egg pancake, which adds noodles to the usual tower of cabbage, sprouts, bacon, shredded chicken, mayo, cheese and onions, was streets ahead of the rival Osaka version. Now that's a worthy thing for two cities to have a rivalry over. We carb-loving Caucasians were certainly in the right place and, paired with a chilled Asahi, the mammoth okonomiyaki made us crack wide smiles between mouthfuls.
The ferry ride to the Buddhist island reserve of Miyajima offered less jarring reflections. Excited schoolchildren were replaced by overly-friendly deer.
The Unesco Heritage-listed village offered fresh oysters grilled with chilli and lemon -- devoured as we marvelled at the world's largest rice paddle (yes, really).
However, the centrepiece of Miyajima was the "floating" torii gate to Itsukushima Shrine, which stood out at sea greeting visitors. It offered the best photos of Japan and, after the morning's tales of mass death and destruction, a more peaceful view of Hiroshima and humanity.
CHECKLIST
Getting there:Cathay Pacific connects via Hong Kong to Tokyo, Osaka, Sapporo, Fukuoka and Nagoya. From most of these cities you can take a Shinkansen bullet train to Hiroshima.
