(This is the last part, I promise)

A long time ago – I’m getting old – in my second year in high school, I had to choose a branch of study. I originally selected maths and physics but because we were only two girls students enrolled, the school did not agree to start a class. The next year, a class was made available for two boys students (gender equality, sorry what?). I went for biology and chemistry instead. That’s when I also learned about radioactive chemical elements, nuclear energy and what happened in Hiroshima. In my mind, it was a dead city where nothing can grow or live. A place that was destroyed and deserted.

I stepped out of Hiroshima train station on a sunny morning and life seemed pretty normal, with almost a Starbucks at every corner, and a Zara here and there. It was a working day so the centre of the city was bustling with people in suits waiting for buses and metros. Along the river, you could see a ferry cruising right in front of the A-bomb dome which is the only building still standing from 1945, when the atomic bomb was dropped by the U.S. The dome looks like the skeleton of a man, a reminder of how destructive war can be and how painful and lasting its repercussions are on people. The museum, the dome and the memorial park leave you silent. At every corner stands a statue or a sign dedicated to those who suffered, survived or died during this attack. Paper cranes made by children from all over Japan and the world hang in one corner with a little girl’s voice telling stories on a recording in the background.  

The museum displays belongings left by victims, testimonies of survivors and A-bomb artifacts, mostly materials that are related to the A-bombing. After three hours of looking at pictures, reading stories and listening to recorded testimonies, I looked blank. What happened has traumatized more than a generation. But somehow, there were signs of hope. The city has moved on and its people have picked up their lives again. Trees were blossoming, parks were green, some boats were cruising down the river, sellers were shouting out their prices in a public market. The peace memorial was a reminder of the scale of destruction that a nuclear bomb brings and of the necessity to stop it from ever being used again. 

My next and final destination before heading back to Tokyo was Yamanakako, one of the largest lakes at the base of the majestic Mount Fuji. I was not lucky with the weather – it was cold and humid when I arrived. My attempt next morning to have a glimpse at the top of Mount Fuji at 5 a.m. failed as it was surrounded by clouds. The small town where I stayed was very quiet, as it was off-season. There were only a couple of restaurants open. During my time there I cycled around the lake, gazing at the majestic Mount Fuji. I played chess and monopoly over sake with a group of Japanese in the guest house I was staying at. I made long walks along nearby parks and tiny villages, had delicious sushi from a supermarket on a bench in the middle of nowhere. A very relaxing way to end a long trip.  

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