Hiroshima

The first thing I did upon leaving Tokyo was to board the wrong bullet train. Hilarity ensued. Got to Hiroshima in the end, though, and it is surprisingly charming. The cute little streetcars help, and bicycles, bicycles, bicycles thronging the pathways and zooming over the numerous bridges that connect the islets of this river-delta city.

Dinner was at Okonomi-mura, a five-storey building containing 27 okonomi-yaki counters. The Hiroshima version is layered, and made with buckwheat noodles (soba), and was delicious. I forked out the extra cash to have oysters in it, for which Hiroshima is also famous, in Japan at least.



Walking back in the warmish-to-cool evening, I took a detour past the A-bomb dome, impressive enough on its own but dramatically set off with up-lighting against the night sky, and of crickets singing like delicate songbirds. A night-fishing crane gave a single indignant squawk from the river behind me before flying off in a theatrical arc. This backdrop seemed all perfectly suited to that inexplicable beautiful sadness of ruins.

Tomorrow it's off to the A-Bomb museum and memorial.