Well, I've been back from Hiroshima for. . . a while now, and I still find it a bit hard to assemble my thoughts on the subject. Okay, here goes. . . .

The first place we visited was Miyajima (Shrine Island), which is about a 45 minute trip from the city by train and ferry. Miyajima is reputed to be one of the three most beautiful places in Japan. It was so beautiful, in fact, that back in the mists of time it was believed that the gods and goddesses lived there, and so people would journey to the island by boat to pray and leave offerings.

The current Itsukushima Temple was built in the middle of the 12th century. It took about ten years to complete. The whole complex was built on stilts over the tidal flats, so as not to offend the goddess that lived on the island. In fact, for about a century, even the monks didn't dare live at the shrine, instead commuting daily. By the mid 13th century, people had begun to live on the island, but they were under severe restrictions. Because Shinto is a religion of purity, anything considered "unclean" was not allowed on Miyajima. They could not till the soil, give birth, die, or be buried on the island. This tradition continues today in that there are no hospitals or graveyards on the island.

We set out for Miyajima just after dawn (it felt like), so we could see the temple at high tide. It was quite a sight, an entire shrine complex appearing to float on the water. There were lots of deer, wandering nonchalantly among the tourists. Perhaps a sign of the tranquil, serene, divine nature of the island?

One of the things I did there was to draw my fortune. When I tried to read it, I got as far as the kanji for "ill fortune" before I stopped, tied it to a handy tree branch, and walked away. . . .

In the evenings, we tried to just hang out, chill, absorb the ambiance (or background radiation?). . . . One night we decided to play darts. Imagine our surprise when we saw the "Japanese Speakers Only" sign. Apparently, they'd had trouble with drunken foreigners before. Fortunately, Doug was able to explain that we just wanted to have a drink or two, and shoot some darts. We ran into this problem again a couple of nights later. A pool hall had a cardboard sign that said simply, "Japanese Only." Once again, Doug was able to talk our way in.

The day after we went to Miyajima, we visited Hiroshima Peace Park, and the Peace Museum.

And, it's at this point that words begin to fail me.

We spent a little while wandering around the Peace Park, and this is when I took pictures of the A-Bomb Dome and the Children's Peace Memorial (Sadako-chan). As we moved past an eternal flame to the Cenotaph for the Victims of the Atomic Bomb, we all signed a petition calling for world peace, and an end to aggresion in Iraq. (Kind of hard not to, considering where we were).

And then, we went into the Hiroshima Peace Museum.

The first exhibit was a brief history of Hiroshima, and it's role as a military city. This was followed by artifacts from the Pacific War -- ration coupons, propaganda posters, calls for the donation of metal for the military cause. There were also American leaflets that were dropped over the city.

The next exhibit had some film footage of the flight of the Enola Gay, and two dioramas of the area around what is now the peace park, just before and just after the bomb exploded. Here, we learned that there were a number of upper elementary and junior high school students out working that morning, helping in the demolition of buildings to create firebreaks. Almost all of these students died that day.

There was a brief display describing in mechanical terms the strength and power of the bomb, and some photos and film of aid and recovery efforts after the war ended. This was followed by an exhibit showing the current state of nuclear weapons around the globe. (Although the museum was fairly even-handed in it's description of the reasons and justifications for using the bomb, one of its major goals is to convince people that all nuclear weapons must be destroyed. A fine goal, but it was sometimes as heavy-handed as a typical Star Trek episode) There was a resting point next, along with a bookshop. I picked up some books on Hiroshima.

Next to the rest area were the first few exhibits of personal effects of those who were exposed to the bomb. The first thing I saw was the half-melted remains of a junior high schooler's nametag. His body was burned so badly that his legs had fallen away from his torso. The only way they could identify him was by the nametag.

This is the first museum I've ever been to where I actually found myself hurrying to get out. It was all very interesting, but at times the horrific nature of what I was seeing was too much. The pictures of people who had the dark patterns of their kimono burned into their skin. A girl who's face had been charred to a crisp, her eyes melted away. The lunchbox of a 13-year-old boy, twisted and deformed by the blast, with the carbonized lunch still inside. His mother found him, with his lunchbox clutched to his chest. Some of Sadako's 1000 paper cranes, folded in a futile attempt to get a wish, before she died of leukemia.

After I found myself outside in the bright sunshine, I felt a bit upset that I didn't give everything the attention that I felt it was due, so I went back in and tried to examine some of the things that I had glossed over. It was no good; I found myself rushing through to get out again.

I've been told that the museum in Nagasaki is even more powerfully moving. I've also heard that people go to one of the Peace Museums, but then never go to the other.

There's probably a lot more I could say, but. . . I'm going to have to stop now.