A somber morning

We woke up early to a grandiose breakfast in Miyajima.  Some of it good, some of it a little weird, but we feel used to it by now.  We then took the ferry and train to Hiroshima to visit the Peace Park and A-bomb Museum.  After getting off of the city’s tram, the first thing we saw was the A-bomb dome, the hollowed out shell often seen in pictures of Hiroshima and the park. Nearby, there is a pagoda for the students mobilized in the war effort.  We then walked along the mall, seeing the Flame of Peace that continues to burn until the last nuclear weapon is destroyed, and the cenotaph with the names of the bomb’s victims, and the Children’s Peace Monument.  Here, thousands of origami cranes are hung near the statue of a well-known bomb victim who developed leukemia several years after exposure to the bomb.  Every year, the cranes are sent by schoolchildren from around the world.

We then entered the A-bomb Museum (Peace Memorial Museum). It’s difficult to describe what it was like.  We visited the site of the U.S.S. Arizona less than one year ago in Oahu.  For obvious reasons, it was hard to know what to feel as an American in Hiroshima’s Peace Park.  The museum reported things in a very straight manner.  No fingerpointing or self-deprecation, just the facts.  We spent several hours wandering around the museum and park.  Difficult, conflicted and sad are three words that come to mind.  The images we saw and accounts we heard are impossible to describe.

It was hard to know what to feel as an American in Hiroshima.

Finally, we stopped at the Peace Memorial Hall honoring A-bomb victims.  Walking down along a spiral ramp, we arrived in a large circular room at the base.  The room is lined, floor to ceiling, with horizontal tiles, one for each bomb victim.  The tiles form 360 degree image of the city from the hypocenter where the bomb detonated.  The city was mostly rubble, with only the Red Cross Hospital, the A-bomb Dome, an elementary school, and a torii gate visible in the distance.

After leaving the park, we walked back toward the station along the Hon-dori (a covered walkway) toward Okomoni-mura, several story building that is basically a massive food court.  On the second floor, we ate okonomiyaki (cook what you like) at Sarashina, served by Chef Nakamura-san.  It is a dish originated in Osaka, but in Hiroshima, they have put their own spin on it.  The version we had is a sort of savory Japanese pancake formed with  crepe on one side and fried egg on the other.  In the middle included all sorts of goodness: cabbage, bamboo shoots, soba noodles, pork and shrimp (Kristin had the veggie version), and green onion.  On the top, a mysterious tasty sauce, green seaweed powder, holding the fresh ginger.  The whole mess is served on the hotplate, eaten with spatulas.  It’s hard to imagine a food not tasting good when eaten with spatulas.

Stuffed, we headed back to Hiroshima station where the fans of the local baseball team, the Hiroshima Carp, were out in full force. The station was barely recognizable. Each and every shop owner was wearing a jersey and the team’s logo appeared everywhere. Sadly, it is identical to the Cincinnati Reds logo.

Dinner was bizarre. Lots of eyes of various creatures looking back at us…we were relieved when the rice came.  Not our favorite meal, but the sake helped.  It wasn’t bad.  Just strange.  We sort of expected this sort of thing going into the trip, but our exposure to fish heads had been relatively few and far between up to this point.  Kristin was ready to go back to being a vegetarian after this meal.

We settled in and watched the Hiroshima Carp play on television for a bit.  We had an early morning tomorrow and a longish train ride to get to Nara.