Hiroshima and Miyajima Island – Japan

We open this blog the only way we can, with the tragedy of Hiroshima, which has since become a miracle through its rebirth and renaissance.

Not the warmest pict, but perhaps the most poignant.

This bike belonged to a boy just a month shy of his fourth birthday. He was incinerated by the blast. His father didn’t want his son to be alone in his death, so he buried him in the backyard with his bicycle and helmet. In 1985, foury years later, the father dug his son and bike up, donating the bike and helmet to the Peace Memorial Museum.

The Children’s Peace Memorial

Ten year old Sadako was dying of cancer resulting from the bomb. But he believed that if he could make 1000 origami cranes, he would survive. He achieved the 1000 cranes, but no miracle cure happened. Since then children from around the world in an act of peace, make and send origami cranes to the memorial.

There’s no sugar coating what happened to Hiroshima. The American deliberately chose a city that was pristine, unbombed and knowing there were tens of thousands of women and children, as well as American POWs and Korean slave labourers. They came in with 3 planes. One loaded with the bomb, 2 others to observe and gather scientific data. The body count was 80,000 immediate deaths, another 60,000 within days, and 1000s more over time. Why they didn’t choose a military installation to send the same message remains incomprehensible to us.

The Peace Park and Museum are sobering, incredibly moving with indelible impressions…more so than the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin or the War Museum in Hanoi. But the 1000s of children who go everyday is a national exercise in remembrance. The awe in their faces and nervous giggles as they see such things as statues of children with skin burnt off and fat dripping off is .

wondrous to see.

Of note is how the museum’s English translation acknowledged Japan’s aggression and initiation of the war. We wonder if the Japanese version is similar.

Trish went 13 days before she had to have a non- Japanese meal, breaking down during a 2 day western bed break in Kyoto on way to Hiroshima. Eggs Benny, which she gave thumbs up. I had a Japanese curry in a curry house. Won’t be doing that again. It’s like going to remote China and ordering spaghetti bolognese. Stick with what you do best.

Every region has variations on dishes. Here in Hiroshima there’s a fiery sauce that you dip your dry ramen into. Think I look funny, you should’ve seen the salaryman doing this.

We did a homestay with a 3 generation family in the burbs of Hiroshima, near the ferry to Miyajima Island.

Yuka lived in Oz and Thailand before she married a man from Kryzkstan, eventually returning to her roots in Hiroshima. Raise your hand if you’ve ever spent an evening with someone from Kryzkstan. Together they have an energetic 5yr old, and Yuka’s 70 year old mom pops over often (there she is below). Feeling bored but energetic Grandma learned to make bags. Trish gave her loads of advice about design and marketing for tourists (which granny has taken) though she already has the skills and personality to be successful, having already sold hundreds of bags at the local market.

We asked Yuka about the war. It’s not addressed in the same way that Germany made atonement a national movement. Yuka’s grandmother knew little about how and what the blast was. State and then American control of information limited awareness. Which seems to suit the current  and past Japanese mantra of non-confrontation, keep your head down, and ask no questions.

The interesting thing about interracial marriages in Japan is that they are almost always to a white guy. Japanese men don’t go for the white meat and Japanese women like English speaking boyfriends. Kinda stereotypical, especially when one sees Yuka as a stay at home mom with a white dude going off to the office. But I sense she’s no meek, submissive wife as we’re sure she would take no guff from her opinionated husband, whom I really liked.

Her mom was born months after the bomb. But because her mother lived in the hills outside the blast zone, serious developmental delay didn’t happen. Awareness, education about the war continue to be at a surface level.

Located ten minutes by ferry from suburban Hiroshima, it inspires awe and venerance to those who go or want to go.

To approach it, you come upon one of the most photographed objects in Japan, the Torii Gate. Here it guards the UNESSCO site of the Itsukushima Shrine, originally incanted in the 6th century. The shrine was designed and built on pier-like structures over the bay so that it would appear to be floating on the water, separate from the sacred island, which could be approached by the devout.

As seen from the descent of Mt Misen

 

 

It seemed like wherever we went there was a traditional festival going on. Here the dragon dance is probably pilfered from the Chinese lion dance… But it’s also way more athletic.

The approach to Daisoin Temple, which we had all to ourselves as we arrived late in the day…our absolute fav on an island liberally doted with temples and shrines.