We postponed our visit of Hiroshima until the end of our 16-day slow trip of West Japan, for obvious reasons.
Months before our trip a colleague of mine had already warned us about the depression that would inevitably follow a visit of the Peace Memorial Park, for any human being with even the slightest degree of compassion. With that in mind I steered clear of Hiroshima after landing, taking my wife on a rambling, 600 km circular route before returning to Hiroshima only on our second last day.
The perishing of a hundred thousand lives, thousands instantaneously on the spot, is an uncomfortable yet compulsory subject for any first-time visitor to Hiroshima. Mother Teresa came, as did Mikhail Gorbachev who once jointly held the keys to nuclear armageddon during the Cold War. Barack Obama finally arrived in 2016 as the first sitting U.S. President to visit the very grounds once scorched by the order of his antecedent, some 70 years ago.
With solemn respect we took our mandatory half-day course into this depressing chapter of human history, followed by a deliberate attempt to decompress through a serene evening of autumn foliage viewing at Hiroshima's 400-year-old traditional garden. Decadent, but essential for mental health in our case.
Unlike the vast majority of visitors arriving by train, we coasted into town by the slow but reliable Hiroden streetcar from our previous homebase of Miyajima, making use of a cheap 600 yen (CAD$7) DayPass that included our 50-minute transfer to our hotel as well as four other rides on a long day. Old school trams such as this Showa Era relic remain a beloved hallmark of Hiroden, one of the storied local institutions to survive the A-Bomb and witness the city's rebirth into a modern metropolis.
By sheer luck we found an unbeatable deal for an 8-jo Tatami room in a respectable hotel at the heart of Hiroshima -- minutes from tram stops, the airport limousine bus as well as the department store trio of Sogo, Fukuya, and Mitsukoshi -- for less than 4800 yen per person. The secret? Try booking through Kansai travel giant KNT which I suspect has some behind-the-scene connections to Hiroshima Kokusai Hotel.
Despite its aging appearance, Hiroshima Kokusai provided us with decent amenities, impeccable Japanese service and the peace-of-mind that our heavy luggage dropped off in the morning would automatically appear inside our spotlessly cleaned room later. Our shoulders were thus lightened for an afternoon visit to the Peace Memorial Park, though we were barely prepared for how heavily our hearts would sink.
Now a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site for its ill-fated distinction, the Peace Memorial Park was once part of pre-war Hiroshima's bustling downtown district, just south of the unmistakably shaped Aioi Bridge used by the bomber pilot as the aiming point. Placed on its grounds are the ashes of 70000 unidentified victims of the A-Bomb, as well as a symbolic Peace Flame intended to remain burning until all nuclear weapons on the planet are destroyed, a noble goal that appears increasingly unrealistic as time progresses.
East of the park stands an anonymous street corner, unremarkable except for a stone monument identifying ground zero of the atomic blast, 580m in the air above the first incarnation of the highly respected Shima Hospital. One of two staff who escaped death by performing surgery at a nearby town, Dr. Shima Kaoru returned the next day to find his entire hospital's staff and patients reduced to ashes and bones, and spent the next years treating victims suffering from a range of never-before-seen symptoms.
A scale model at the Peace Memorial Museum captures that fateful moment at 08:15 on the morning of August 6, 1945, with an ominous red ball overhanging the hypocentre. An estimated 90000 died either from the blast or from the acute effects of radioactivity and burns, examples of which are illustrated in a gut-wrenching collection of photos and personal effects.
Warped coke bottles, ripped garments that melted onto victims' skin, a charred bento lunch clutched by its teenage owner as he burned and died, all vivid reminders of the anguish and helplessness of commoners at wartime, no matter the nationality or race.
By far the most heartbreaking exhibit was a rusted toy tricycle, buried for decades by a grieving father after the death of 3-year-old Shinichi-chan on the night of the atomic blast. To those who attribute the bombing of Hiroshima to a simple cause-and-effect of Japan's invasion of its Asian neighbours during WWII, I highly encourage visiting Hiroshima and seeing war from the perspectives of common folks, each with their own names and personal stories -- then try to explain the cause-and-effect to Shinichi-chan in front of his tricycle.
It was spiritually and physically draining -- similar to visiting the former Nazi death camp of Auschwitz or the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall I've been told -- and I was glad that my colleague had forewarned us to decompress after the museum visit. For the rest of the day we occupied our thoughts with shopping and Okonomiyaki before ending up at the historic Japanese garden of Shukkeien for an evening of illuminated Koyo viewing.
The private garden of Hiroshima's feudal rulers for much of its 400 year history, Shukkeien was almost entirely flattened and incinerated by the atomic blast merely 1500m away. But Hiroshimans -- like the rest of Japan in the post-war era -- persevered and meticulously replanted its entire landscape with traditional favorites such as pines, sakuras and maples, restoring an urban green space that has since become a popular date-spot especially during Hanami and Koyo season.
Arguably the best times to visit are late March and late November during Shukkeien's semi-annual evening openings, optimized for Sakura viewing in springtime and Momiji in autumn foliage season. For twenty days per year the garden is transformed into an illuminated wonderland of romantic dim lanterns along its meandering stone paths and impossibly vibrant colours above head.
Hiroshima is at the centre of Japan's beaten paths after all, and crowds of mostly domestic tourists are to be expected during the most spectacular season of the year at Shukkeien, especially at the bargain price of 260 yen (CAD$3).
Quaint teahouses grace the ingeniously designed ponds, nourished by freshwater channeled from the nearby river and teeming with colourful Koi fish fattened through constant feeding by visitors. The teahouses and pavilions are all postwar reconstructions, as the only structure in the garden to survive the A-Bomb was the 18th century stone bridge of Koko-kyo.
Surrounded by nature's magnificence it was easy to forget that we were still in the shadow of Hiroshima's skyscrapers, perhaps Shukkeien's best-loved quality among Hiroshimans and tourists alike. For locals it serves as an urban oasis a few minutes' walk from Hiroshima's business district, and for visitors like ourselves, a much needed dose of natural beauty and tranquility to restore our inner peace after a heavy lesson on the nature of war.
The rest of our time in Hiroshima was mostly spent on mindless shopping: a leg massager at Bic Camera for a friend, discount snacks at Yasumori as souvenirs, and random household items at my favorite store of Donki Hote, partially as a necessity and partially just to take our minds off the day when death descended upon this thriving city of 350000.
This was only a few months after President Obama's visit, in conjunction with Prime Minister Abe's tour of Pearl Harbour, where the two leaders jointly recognized the evil of war but steered clear of any apologies. While I do understand their united example to Japan's neighbours on letting go of the past without bickering for compensations, I seriously doubt how this posturing could foster reconciliation between Japan and her neighbours on generations-old wounds that still continue to fester, especially in the midst of another arms race in 21st century East Asia.
Scripted at the centre of the Peace Memorial Park is a purposely vague epitaph that the error, i.e. the evil of war, shall not be repeated, which still draws the ire and occasional vandalism by right wing nationalists still unabashed about Japan's "entry" into neighbouring countries in WWII. Meanwhile the Chinese still hold a deep grudge, and so do the Koreans. More than seventy years have passed since Hiroshima, and what lessons have we learned as a species?
Hiroshima. Nanjing. Auschwitz. Darfur. Syria. As much as we try to distance ourselves from the political leaders behind these horrific directives, none of us could deny the presence of evil entrenched at the depths of our human psyche in the form of selfishness, arrogance or revenge. In this age of no absolute truths or moralities and only ourselves in charge, I have no confidence that our human civilization would survive another century without self-destruction.
To readers who note the discord between these lovely images of autumn foliage and my sombre commentary, this was exactly the dichotomy that I felt for days after visiting the dual UNESCO World Heritage Sites of Hiroshima and Miyajima. Any lighthearted memories of Koyo-viewing and Okonomiyaki that we collected over these three days would always be accompanied by the reminder of a painful lesson to all humankind.
That evening we returned to our hotel by Hiroden -- the same Hiroden that survived the A-Bomb and still sends out a few surviving 1940s streetcars on special occasions, especially the anniversary of August 6 when the entire system would halt briefly for a silent minute at exactly 08:15. It is worth remembering, as all Hiroshima citizens surely understand.
I am still in a depressed mood writing this post, which should serve as a warning to readers considering a first visit to Hiroshima. In fact it may haunt you for days as you try to shut the memory of the rusted tricycle out of your mind, but absolutely essential for any self-respected traveler in pursuit of cultural understanding. Just remember to decompress with a garden stroll and perhaps some Wagashi sweets, and come away with a renewed view of humanity's flaws.
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