Hiroshima

And now a more ominous side of Japan. I woke up the morning I went to Hiroshima and pushed a button. The first button I pushed that day shut off my alarm clock. The subsequent buttons I pushed that morning sent messages to my friends and family, ordered a train ticket and purchased a coffee. Not so long ago, long about the time my grandparents were falling in love, another button was pushed. This innocuous little chit of plastic however vaporized a city, and most of the people who lived in it. Now I'm not in the business in saying who was right in war, but I am in the business of feeling for people whose skin fell of of their bodies and who witnessed the extinction of their entire families. Those that evaporated that day were the lucky ones, never having to deal with the hells of radiation, or the horror of always wondering whether their descendants would be born malformed. Hiroshima has of course moved on. It is today a vibrant cosmopolitan community. So I guess all things, no matter how awful, pass. We must not forget how these people suffered, and do whatever possible to ensure that this piece of contemptible history never fades in obscurity.

Japan

I just got back from Japan. It is quite an intriguing country, full of friendly people and beautiful history. I had a few problems eating though; all menus are exclusively written in Japanese. Thankfully through drawing pictures and the general fun-loving nature of the Japanese, I could communicate what I was hungry for. I took the Shinkansen bullet train on my journey. It is nothing short of an airplane on rails. Little villages raced by the window like they were frames of an old filmstrip, and other trains were merely a blur as they whooshed past. The old castles or (Jo) were also magnificent. They are a testament to the simplicity and quiet stateliness that was feudal Japan. Also noteworthy is the strange juxtaposition between the Jo and the ultra-modern eyesores that are the modern Japanese city. In Kitakyushu, there is a nouveau Art-Deco monstrosity across the street from the keep of the old city's Jo. The effect is off-putting, but yet symbolic of the encroachments of the new world upon the old. Gehry himself would probably be upset by the uneasiness that the space creates. Unavoidable I suppose, in a country pining for elbow room.