Golden Week (Part 5): Nagasaki Explorations

Wednesday, April 30
We began the morning in Nagasaki, where our hotel stood only shortly up the street from a large 文明堂 shop--the main location, in fact. Bunmeido is the go-to company when you're looking for castella.

The window display featured carp-shaped cakes in celebration of Boys' Day.

Further down the street, we arrived in 出島 (Dejima), once an artificial island in the Bay of Nagasaki reserved for Dutch traders. The area today is bordered by apartments and even a small shopping area, with no sense of the absolute isolation depicted in maps and illustrations of the period. The old buildings, however, have been restored and transformed into an open-air museum.

The Dejima of the past was surrounded by water. The city plans to eventually restore the area to its original state--that is, to island form--which as you might imagine, will involve plenty of change.

This bedroom, home to a Dutch merchant, reminded me of my own, with Western furniture atop rows of Japanese tatami. Of course, this room is far more spacious than mine is. And tidy.

It's Sniff-the-Spice Time! I still hate the smell of cloves.

An illustration depicts a group huddled over spice work.

Dejima, in miniature.

From Dejima, we rode the city streetcar, which took us to the epicenter of the atomic bomb drop on Nagasaki.

A memorial to the victims.

Garlands of cranes, folded by schoolchildren across the country.

At the edge of the park, an elderly woman sold アイスクリーン (of a sherbet consistency) from a small cart. She used a metal paddle to form petals of cream into a rose shape.

Across the park stands the 長崎原爆資料館 (Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum), where striking artifacts (a clock, its hands forever stopped at the time the bomb hit; a blood-stained belt; a schoolchild's charred lunch box) and stories illustrate how truly shocking and sad the nightmares that human beings unleash on one another are. The decision to bomb Hiroshima and Nagasaki was not merely military act; it destroyed thousands of individual lives. A boy at school. A mother and her baby at a train station. An atomic bomb doesn't discriminate.

From the bombing in Nagasaki, the museum displays move to the larger picture--that of the continued existence of nuclear weaponry worldwide. Through video testimonies, individuals discuss how nuclear testing has hurt their communities, and a large chart depicts the history of nuclear buildup. The route concludes urging visitors to contribute to efforts to end such buildup and to work toward a more peaceful world.

From the Atomic Bomb Museum, we moved to the Nagasaki National Peace Memorial Hall for the Atomic Bomb Victims, far less crowded and much quieter in atmosphere.

In the Remembrance Hall, visitors may pay their respects to the victims, as well as pray for peace. The memorial at the center holds the names of those who as a result of the bombing.

The building includes electronic records of victim diaries, photographs, and testimonies. Sad, yet fascinating to read, as it gives a far more personal face to the tragedy than we generally hear. Also included is information on peace; the center hosts peace-related events from time to time. Before leaving, Chris and I wrote and illustrated "peace messages" on the facility computers, which will be accessible to the public for ten years.

We next visited the Peace Park, which was awash with visiting Korean students!

This statue represents a great many things that I cannot remember here. It's complicated symbolic art.

We caught the streetcar again, this time for the 26 Martyrs Memorial, dedicated to twenty-six Christians executed in 1596.

The details are striking--from the facial features to the positioning of the hands and feet. The sculptures brought on chicken skin for me: the features of each individual was drawn with an expression of pure faith, with a complete absence of fear, and I could understand that not a single man or boy had doubts in dying for what he believed in.

We next walked to nearby 福済寺 (Fukusai-ji), known in the travel books as quite the odd temple. A fan of all things unusual, I had to visit.

Indeed. It's Kannon atop a large turtle.

Following a heavy day, it was refreshing both physically and spiritually to indulge in a can of this stuff. I always knew that robots, unicorns, and colorful blob children were the secret ingredients to Coke.

We then walked to Nagasaki Station, where we snacked on 角煮, a local specialty of fatty sweet pork between a doughy pocket. (Tastes a bit like manapua.)

In the evening, Chris and I walked through the 長崎中華街. Having visited the ones in Yokohama and Kobe, we've officially seen the Top Three Chinatowns of Japan. Along the way to dinner, we passed a well-known Confucian temple and "Hollander Slope," where many foreign residences still stand.

For dinner we visited this imposing beast of a building, known for its champon, a popular Nagasaki dish.

Champon, according to the History of Champon Museum on the second floor of the towering restaurant, was created to feed young Chinese scholars in Japan a cheap, nutritious, and familiar meal away from their home country. The dish consists of thick noodles topped with an assortment of vegetables and meats, swimming in a thick and creamy soup.

In addition to champon, we shared 皿うどん.

Noodle-full, we walked off the meal in Glover Garden, where old foreign residences have been preserved and kept on display. I thought that the grounds at night had an eerie feel to them, but I suppose the many couples touring the gardens saw the quiet and darkness as romantic.

The garden was cheerily lit with illuminated animals.

Mmm.

The park brochure invites couples to look for a "love" stone set in the path. I scoured the ground, straining my eyes for the familiar shape, only to find Chris standing beside the heart, conspicuously bathed in a spotlight of pink.

We returned to the hotel, snacked on Sun Chips (!) purchased from a convenience store, and fell asleep.