This is a continuation of a previous post about my two day trip to Miyajima and Hiroshima.

We awoke to a beautiful, sunny morning, with nary a cloud in the sky. The sound of birds filtered in through the walls of our room. After an early breakfast in Iwaso’s dining room, we checked out of our room and headed our separate ways for the morning. While my friends went omiyage shopping, I made the brief trek up from the inn to the station for the Miyajima Ropeway (宮島ロープウエー). I’d heard that the ropeway, which whisks riders almost to the top of Mt. Misen (弥山) in about twenty minutes, provided great views of the island and the Seto Sea on a clear day. Along the way, an amusing sign written in both Japanese and English informed me: “10 Minute Walk (7 if Run a Little) to Ropeway Station”

At the station, I bought my somewhat pricey ticket and climbed into one of the tiny cars that made the first segment of the two-part journey to the top. The Miyajima Ropeway has both revolving (cars move in a clockwise circle up and down) and linear (cars move back and forth) sections of ropeway, and reaching the top of Mt. Misen requires riding both. As the car I was in left the station and I realized that I was dangling hundreds of feet above the ground, I became momentarily terrified. But my fright was soon forgotten and replaced with awe as I looked out over the primeval forest below me and the ocean and town in the distance. The view was stunningly beautiful. The only sounds to be heard were the chirping of birds perched in the trees below and the quiet hum of the ropeway’s motor. It was amazingly peaceful.

About 3/4 of the way to the top, I transferred from the revolving ropeway to the linear ropeway. I was again overwhelmed by the view, which now faced out over the Seto Sea. Small islands dotted the water, and there was just enough mist to give the landscape a mystical, otherworldly feel. It was easy to understand why the island was considered holy. All too quickly, it was over, and the car pulled into the station at the top of Mt. Misen.

I was told that it was about a thirty minute hike from the ropeway station to the actual summit of Mt. Misen, where a handful of temples and other attractions were located. Since I had to meet my friends later in the morning, though, I decided I didn’t have the time to make the trek. I did, however, spend a few minutes walking around the area directly outside the station. Signs were posted in both English and Japanese warning of possible trouble from resident monkeys that frequented the spot, but unfortunately, none were present. “They are out eating in the forest,” I was told, when I asked someone where they had gone. The one form of wildlife that did show itself, though, was a flock of giant, flying insects. My first instinct when seeing a bug is always that it is either a wasp/bee/hornet or mosquito, but these were so large, however - at least as big as my thumb - that I was soon certain they must be some sort of moth. I therefore stood calmly soaking up the sunshine and snapping pictures while they happily buzzed around my head. I later learned that, for once, my initial assessment was accurate: my Japanese friends assured me that the bugs I had seen were, in fact, a very dangerous type of wasp native to the mountains of Japan. “Flying rattlesnakes,” someone told me. If I had known at the time, I strongly suspect I would have never left the safety of the ropeway station’s glass walls.

A bit later, I met back up with my friends. We said goodbye to Miyajima, and hopped back on the ferry to the mainland for lunch. We had decided to try Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki (お好み焼き), so we took one of Hiroshima’s streetcars to the Okonomiyaki Village, or okonomimura (お好み村). A map we picked up at Hiroshima Station’s tourist information center indicated that there were well over fifty okonomiyaki restaurants or stalls in the area, though most were concentrated on four stories of one building. It was to that building that we headed. For no particular reason, we rode the elevator to the fourth floor, looked around for a few moments, and sat down at the restaurant that had stared us directly in the face when we stepped out.

It turned out to be a good choice, as the okonomiyaki at Kyuu-chan (久ちゃん) was very tasty. Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki is cooked somewhat differently from the more common Osaka style. Usually constructed in layers, it begins with a very thin layer of batter on which sliced cabbage is cooked. In addition, yakisoba noodles are often added. In Osaka-style okonomiyaki, the cabbage, batter, and other components are usually mixed together rather than layered. The fun thing about okonomiyaki, whichever style it is, is that you select the ingredients and toppings you want included. I ordered mine topped very typically with pork and shrimp; one member of our group, though, decided to try one of the stand’s specials, “American-style” okonomiyaki. It came topped with sweet corn, green onions, egg, canned tuna, and more, and was, I am told, quite good.

After lunch, my Japanese friends returned home to Kobe, but I headed to Hiroshima’s must-see attractions, the Peace Park (平和公園) and Peace Memorial Musuem (平和記念資料館). The star attraction of the park itself is, of course, the A-Bomb Dome (原爆ドーム). Before the war, the complex, now registered as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was the city’s Industrial Promotion Hall. Now, the building serves as a haunting reminder of the destruction war brings. The dome is the only bomb-damaged building remaining in Hiroshima, and was recently reinforced to ensure that it remains standing as a monument to the destruction caused by the atomic bomb.

The Peace Park’s other attractions include the Cenotaph for the A-Bomb Victims and the Statue of the A-Bomb Children. The cenotaph (empty tomb) is a memorial containing the names of those who died in or as a result of the bombing and a flame which will not be extinguished until the last nuclear weapon is disabled. The Statue of the A-Bomb Children is associated with one of Hiroshima’s most moving stories. While in the hospital dying of leukemia in 1954, twelve-year-old Sasaki Sadako heard an old legend which claimed that a wish could be made to come true if one folded 1,000 paper cranes. The Statue of the A-Bomb Children was built by her classmates to honor her and the countless other children who died from the bombing and is now constantly draped in thousands of brightly-colored origami cranes folded by schoolchildren from throughout Japan.

The excellent, though very sad and depressing, Peace Memorial Museum is also located on the grounds of the park. First established in 1955, the museum was expanded and renovated in the 90s and is now divided into two buildings. The museum’s first exhibition area provides the context in which the city was bombed, explaining Hiroshima’s role in the war as a large military center, the forced demolition of homes and businesses by the Japanese government, and the mobilization of students as young as twelve to work in military factories and on various war-related projects. The exhibits also discuss the government’s use of Koreans and other minorities forced to work under extremely harsh conditions.

The museum proceeds to explain, using copies of original Japanese and US military documents, how Hiroshima came to be selected as the target for the atomic bomb. I found reading these letters and reports an amazing and extremely enlightening, though time-consuming, experience. I found one of these collections of documents, which discussed the Potsdam Declaration, to be particularly disturbing. The Japanese had indicated that they would be willing to surrender to the Allies on the one condition that the country’s emperor system remain in place. While those involved in writing the declaration agreed this was not an unreasonable condition, and of course did in the end allow the emperor to remain in place as a figurehead, they decided to propose only an unconditional surrender. Reading between the lines, they had written, essentially, that they did so knowing Japan would reject the proposal, allowing them an opportunity to test the atomic weapon they were developing in a real-world situation while still appearing to their own citizens to have attempted a diplomatic resolution.

Another area of the museum is devoted to explaining the basics of the technology behind the atomic bomb and tracing its proliferation around the world. Two walls are covered form floor to ceiling with copies of the letters sent by the city of Hiroshima to other countries in protest of each atomic bomb test they perform.

The rest of the museum is primarily dedicated to displaying a large collection of haunting artifacts and photographs of bomb victims. If you have a weak stomach, it may be wise to skip this portion of the museum, as it consists of nothing but room after room of horrifying pictures, personal momentos and very sad and depressing stories. Tattered school uniforms ripped apart by the bombings, broken, rusted tricycles whose riders had been vaporized, pieces of human skin, and melted bricks are just a few of the items presented.  The museum focuses especially on the fate of the children impacted by the bombing, describing where they were when the bomb was dropped and how and when they died in painstaking, gruesome detail.  The emotional impact of this portion of the museum is enormous: seeing these artifacts and pictures and reading the stories associated with them is a deeply disturbing, though very valuable, experience.

On the way out of the museum, visitors are invited to sign their names and share their impressions in a guestbook.  Also on display is a collection of guestbooks signed by world leaders and other important figures who have visited the museum.  I looked at every page, noting that the museum had been visited by an acting leader of nearly every major country on the planet save one: the United States.  Of all US presidents who held office since the museum was opened, only Jimmy Carter had ever come, and only after he was no longer president.  Seeing as we had dropped the bomb that caused all the damage being highlighted at the museum, and considering that we continually insist that Japan apologize for various wartime infractions of one sort or another, I found it quite disturbing as an American that no US president had ever bothered to show up.

After taking another look at the A-Bomb Dome, I headed returned to Hiroshima Station to catch a shinkansen back to Kobe, feeling very sad and depressed for the rest of the evening.

Yasujuni Jinja, a Shinto shrine located in Tokyo, attracts a lot of controversy. This controversy has recently placed the shrine at the center of a number of international political issues, and as a result, many people outside of Japan have read about the shrine in newspapers or heard about it on television.

Originally called Tokyo Shokonsha, the shrine was created in 1869 to honor those killed in the wars surrounding Emperor Meiji’s return to power. In 1879, it was renamed as Yasukuni Jinja and became one of the most important shrines connected with state-sponsored Shinto. Over 2.5 million souls are enshrined at Yasukuni, representing all Japanese (as well as some Koreans and Chinese) who died in the service of Imperial Japan through the end of World War II.

It is from this fact that the controversy surrounding the shrine stems: among these millions are 1,068 who were convicted of war crimes at the end of World War II, including 12 Class A war criminals. Visits to Yasukuni by Japanese government ministers (including the annual visits that former prime minster Koizumi Junichiro made) have been protested by China, Korea, and Taiwan and are frequently the subject of political contention.

Even within Japan, views differ on the issue of the enshrined war criminals. However, for most Japanese, Yasukuni Jinja is simply a place to honor those who died in war and remember history. While the shrine itself is interesting, Yasukuni Jinja also has a nicely-presented museum detailing the history of wars in Japan through World War II that is in my opinion the star attraction. The museum contains a wide variety of artifacts and exhibits, including among other things some beautiful examples of Japanese armor and weaponry from a number of different periods in Japanese history. Also featured are human torpedoes, World War II-era airplanes and tanks, and items recovered from planes and boats destroyed in World War II. There are many English signs explaining the various exhibits, though much more information is available only in Japanese.

The musuem’s account of the war is definitely slanted in such a way as to make Japan’s military actions appear to have been the right and justifiable course of action in each and every situation. However, the museum explores some interesting events that most Western accounts leave out, and makes you consider the ways in which the accounts of history you are more familiar with are also slanted in a different way. What if Japan had won World War II instead? Why isn’t Truman considered a war criminal? After all, what could be considered a worse “crime against humanity” than the use of the two most distructive weapons the world has ever seen? The museum raises a number of questions such as these that are worth considering.

The museum at Yasukuni is often criticized as glorifying war. While many of the exhibits are undeniably militaristic, the final rooms of the museum make it difficult to leave with that impression. An entire wall is filled with books of letters, one of which is translated into English, sent by soldiers to family and friends. Many of the letters are heartwrenching; in many, soldiers write to their children and loved ones with advice or memories, clearly realizing that they will never return home. The final room’s central exhibit is a case filled with bride dolls. These were sent to the shrine by grieving mothers whose young sons had been killed in World War II before they had a chance to marry. The dolls were intended to provide comfort in the afterlife for these victims of war. By the time I reached the end of the museum, I was left with the distinct impression that war was anything but glorious.

In addition to the shrine itself and the museum, Yasukuni Jinja has a nice, small garden that is worth a visit.

Its controversial nature and excellent museum make Yasukuni Jinja well worth visiting at any time of year, but the sakura trees throughout the shrine make late March through early April an especially nice time.