Vacation planning to date

Our week on the island has been secured.

We started out by eliminating all the upmarket, exclusive and very expensive places with running hot and cold servants and eight bedrooms and ocean views to beyond New Zealand. In fact, no such accommodation is offered on the island and our sights were reluctantly lowered to hot and cold running water, no servants and views across the D’Entrecasteaux Channel to the Tasmanian coastline.

Such is life…

One place offered a lovely beach near the house but no internet connection. I held out for the internet connection and now we are staying at Omaroo Cottage, which was the very first place I looked at when the search began. I hasten to add that I can live without an internet connection but my intention is to attempt to catch up on my way-behind blog posting.

Enough of that loud, mocking laughter. 

Stop it this very minute!

Omaroo Cottage should serve the purpose; it looks comfortable enough. It has all the necessary rooms with all the necessary furniture.  It purports to have sea and channel views; I’m ever the cynic when it comes to water views. You are bound to hear more about the views of the water.  Or not.

Our transport to Tasmania is in hand. The car and two people have been booked on a day crossing. This means leaving Melbourne at 9.30am on a Sunday morning and arriving at Devonport some ten hours later. A 550-piece jigsaw will be taken on board and this should fill in quite a bit of time. The return journey will be two weeks later and is another day crossing.

In the meantime, a few loose ends have to be tied off in securing accommodation along the east coast. I’m not too concerned about this, plenty of time to organise a roof over our heads for one night.

Or so I think.

Street art -  Bridge Road, Richmond                    January 2016

Planning and a pie

I need to get to work and plan the meals for the next four days.

Where possible I avoid going out on days above 35C and I need to draw up a list and shop to get provisions right now. Salads and cold meats and a supply of sparkling fruit drinks will feature on the provisions list.

The first item on the planning agenda was straight forward.

Baker Kate is back from holidays. I will buy some decent bread and although the idea of a hot meat pie in the heat of a summer’s day may seem ridiculous, a meat pie is on the top of the list.

Fast forward to Baker Kate’s.  As I sit eating my pie, I listen to her tale of how things went wrong on the first day of business this year.

Early on that morning one of her staff phoned to give her the good news that an electrical fault meant one of the ovens would not heat. She jumped on her bike and pedalled off to work. Along the way Baker Kate had to brake sharply and the result was a somersault over the handlebars into an unforgiving brick wall. No work for her that day.

It’s all part of the unforeseen events which face owners of small businesses. Many operate on a narrow margin and this sort of thing puts a strain on the bank balance. Some strained negotiations were currently under way with the electrician who wanted to repair the problem without a financial quote or even an estimate.

Seriously man, do you see your customers as total fools?

Another item on my planning list is replacement plants for the balcony window box. The petunias have struggled on against the odds and put on a reasonable display in spite of a few days of withering heat. It’s amazing how they perk up with a drink of water after the sun goes down.

I’m considering mesembryanthemum, a good hardy plant able to withstand some heat while still putting on a decent display of vibrant colour.

And in the planning department there is still the ongoing organising of accommodation for the March holiday in Tasmania.   The Mah-Jong Queen is currently selecting the accommodation for the first three nights before we drive south to the island for a week.

She’s already expressed an interest in visiting the Design Centre in Launceston, so I’m sure we will be staying at least one night in that city.

That’s quite enough planning for me for the moment.

                                                               

                                                                              mesembryanthemum

January

You, Dear Reader, (the singular you – I would be totally delusional, not to mention presumptuous, if I thought for one minute there was more than one reader. See this post earlier in the month) will have noticed there is a certain pattern to the minimal activity around blog posting in the Soup Kitchen.

There is a minor flurry of activity at the beginning of each year; possibly it’s something to do with the undeniable move forward into yet another year.  A fresh sheet, marked 2018, begging to have something written on it. And so, the January posts get under way.  It may be only a short time before they falter and fall into total neglect but January is the month where the blog puts on a bold, brave, forward-looking face, the post machine is cranked up and begins to churn out the material.

It’s also the month that stretches away through the expected hot days; cafes which have been closed for the holiday break re-open as the days pass and mothers heave a sigh of relief as the end of the month draws near. They turn to the task of filling book lists, uniforms are pulled out, passed on if they are too small and replaced in time for another year of growth.

It’s also the month where people take advantage of time away from their work place. They may go down to the Surf Coast, or any other coast which takes their fancy.  It’s the time of the year when those holiday houses which often stand empty for many months of the year are alive with families, their friends and passing visitors, who take the opportunity of a break away from the city.

The tennis juggernaut rolls into town, activity is observed at the Tennis Centre from the windows of passing trams and there is much talk about who will win what and every second tennis player seems to sport a totally unpronounceable name. Yes, the Australian Open is the sporting news of the moment.

The second national public holiday presents itself on January 26 and without a shadow of doubt it will be accompanied by much media hype about the suitability of the date, sides will be taken and opinions stated.

That’s January in a nutshell.

Surf Coast                                                       Archive photo: Year unknown

Getting away from it all.....

Whoopeeeeee!

I’m going off on a short vacation; a five-day vacation; the first since July last year, which was only an overnighter.  All this came about following a phone call from the Mah-jong Queen.

I am off to the capital of the north-east and the main event will be a film at the Swanpool cinema. The Swanpool cinema is a blast from the past.  There is nothing glamorous about the building; it sits off to the side of the road about in the middle of the town centre. It runs old fashioned slide advertising before the main movie and  during interval  patrons can walk through a door to a kitchen and dining area. They saunter down to a hatch in the wall opening from the kitchen, order a tea or coffee, look around and find a chair at a table and enjoy a chat or a discussion about the first feature. 

And what’s the big deal with the movie?  It was shown at the last MIFF and the subject is a man who used to come into our workplace; at that time he had an art gallery not far from where the Mah-jong Queen ran her office support business. We’re talking last century here; so it will be interesting to see and hear the story, as seen through his eldest son’s eyes/camera.

As for the rest of the time will be filled in on my short vacation?  Who knows how it will be filled in? 

It’s a step forward for me as I will be travelling by train on the first extended trip since I was laid up in September. 

We will see how things turn out.

There is sure to be a blog post or two come out of this short country vacation.  All you have to do is live long enough for the posts to appear......

Tree stump carving, Hanging Rock Reserve Vic         File Photo: January 2007

January

 The month of Janus – looking back to the end of the previous year while simultaneously looking in the opposite direction to the coming year.

A time when hope springs eternal.

A new start; a clean slate with plenty of time for everything to go in exactly the same direction all the other years have gone, even though we might tell ourselves this will not happen.  Not this year.

In the real January world, the one that is happening as the month passes, there is the give-away sign of those people who have vowed in the new year to get fit or bust.  As the day winds down they appear, jogging along the footpath, stoic expressions on their faces, determined to stick with the program, at least for the time being.

January is holiday time for many people and as a result it is also chaos on some roads for many people.  This is a time when the authorities decide road works, both major and minor, will happen.  Woe betides the uninformed, who when driving to their destination, find they have to make an inconvenient detour.  These disruptions do not make for a happy bunch of motorists.

This summer the weather has been unpredictable and those who worship the Sun God have been disappointed, while those who are happier with lower temperatures (read me here) are very happy.  It is only recently that the parks and gardens have started to show the damage caused by hotter days, with the grass gradually turning from green to brown.

Tennis fans look forward to the Australian Open and search out the hats, cushions and other paraphernalia, in preparation for the big day out at the tennis.  Kids make the most of the last weeks before school starts back in early February and parents are known to start counting down the days till the kids go back to school.

January, the month that holds the prospect of a whole year in its hand and allows the luxury of a short time of procrastination and dreaming before the reality of the balance of the year rears its head.

And it's never too soon, apparently, to start selling hot cross buns!

Orders are orders

When the harbourmaster says the port is closed - no ships in and no ships out - his word is final.

And so this morning instead of cruising along out at sea in the direction of Aomori we were still docked in Yokohama.  Disappointing, but unavoidable.  Another change to the itinerary.  We will not visiting Aomori, where among other things, I was looking forward to eating apple ice-cream; Aomori is very close to the area where the Fuji apple originated. However, as the Captain explained, it is pointless to arrive in the port  at 4 pm and leave at 5 pm. 

The big feature of the morning was departing Yokohama and scurrying around to various vantage points as the ship sailed under the bridge.  

The sun shines brightly today and I feel an inexplicable sadness at leaving Yokohama.

However the bridge is waiting, along with a flotilla of smaller vessels, for us to get under way and leave we must.

We have two days at sea ahead of us and plenty of time to investigate all aspects of the public areas on the ship and to attempt to find my way from the Crow’s Nest to the Dolphin Deck and back to Room 3332 without resorting to screaming for help in a loud, panic-stricken voice.

Once out of the harbour, land soon disappeared and our focus turned to the list of activities on the ships newsletter. The newsletter arrives in the slot beside my door each evening, allowing ample time to consider what might be happening tomorrow and to make arrangements with any other interested parties.  The ship day starts at 7 am in the morning with Morning Stretches as part of the Fitness Class in the Crow’s Nest at 7.30 am.  I can say right now there is no chance I will be attending a fitness class at any time of the day never mind 7.30 am.  This is a holiday fer cryin’ out loud.

At a more reasonable hour, and more in line with my interests, is the Book Club enrollment.  After a few false starts I eventually find my way to the Explorations Café and collect my copy of How to be an American Housewife, the selection for this cruise.  It is a small book, and in keeping with a cruise taking in Japanese ports it has a Japanese theme, albeit one relating to an era at the end of WW2.

After lunch I find a seat at the back of a packed auditorium to hear a presentation - the Birth of the Pacific Ocean; it deals with volcanoes and tectonic plates and the ups and downs over several billions of years, which gave us the ocean we will all cross in a few days’ time.  There is a small, lingering worry I may have placed myself in line for a dose of the flu; sitting in the only seat available, I find the woman seated next to me has a loud hacking cough, which rocks my seat and I avert my face to avoid  collecting unwanted germs as she coughs unrestrainedly.

I line up this evening in the Lido buffet, which has a great variety of food; enough, I’m sure,  to prevent starvation over the next three weeks.

Nearly blown off my feet

As we boarded the shuttle bus taking us from Osanbashi Pier to the retail area, the man ushering us aboard cheerfully informed us that today Yokohama was experiencing what the locals know as a spring typhoon.

An understatement, if ever there was one.

A blustery, unpleasant wind pushed the MahJong Queen and I along towards the Landmark Plaza building with its shopping arcades over three floors and the elevator, which takes some finding, whose purpose is to whisk you to the 69^th floor and the fantastic 360 degree views over Yokohama city.

First up, the very important task of finding the Post Office, which has the all-important ATMs, which very generously dispense cash, providing all the right buttons are pushed in the right order. Then, the next most important task, somewhere to eat.  We wander around and finally settle on curry udon for lunch. Paper bibs are provided and we attack our meal with chopsticks and a helpful spoon, make a mess, manage to get most of it into our mouths and decide it was an excellent food venue choice. 

Then a time consuming hunt for the entry to the elevator.  It is easier to find the souvenir shop than it is to find the elevator.  When we find it, we reach the 69^th floor of the Landmark Building in double quick time.   The views across the city are spectacular and there is no notion of the wind howling around outside.  Only the Cosmos Clock 21 is still and unmoving; imagine riding around in the gondola in today’s wind strength of upwards of 50 kilometres per hour!

Looking towards the Cosmos Clock 21 and amusement park.

On the opposite side of the Tower, cars, car parks and a freeway.

Almost every form of transport is catered for here, road, rail and air.

At the end of the circuit around the tower, we are back to the water.  In the top right of the photo is the Yokohama Stadium, the landmark I searched for yesterday.

Obligatory browsing through the shops in the arcades of the lower floors of the Landmark Building takes up some more of our time.  And then the next test.  Finding the exit door to take us back out the way we came in.  Not so easy.  Much tracking back and forth and inadvertently walking outside at one stage, to be nearly blown off our feet.  

Then more by good luck than good management we find the right level and are walking along the moving walk way.  In between the covered areas the walkway is exposed to the elements and the wind buffeted us around to such an extent I had to wrap my arms around a pole to remain up right.

The queue for the bus to take us back to the ship was a welcome sight and the wind gave us one final taunting as we left the pier building and scuttled, sideways like crabs, along to the ship’s boarding ramp. 

The idea of a pleasant, late afternoon stroll along the shore front, before the ship’s departure, was immediately abandoned.

Managing the move

There’s nothing like the challenge of packing up and moving on to the next stage of the journey.

There’s nothing like this challenge to make you wish:

a)      You’d never left home

b)      The case you have should be twice the size

c)        Why the hell is it not possible to be like Dervla Murphy and travel with a notebook and six pencils and maybe a handgun to ward off evil-doers?

Of course it’s the much anticipated three weeks at sea that decided most of the contents of said suitcase.  And why on earth would I need a larger one when I can barely lift the one I have?

The dining room at the hotel was packed each morning and today I discovered the reason. A great variety of food, Western and Japanese and everything I tried was delicious.  With my possessions finally jammed into the case and backpack, I make a last minute excursion around the nearby streets where I made the discovery that a building I was certain would be a place of culture was nothing other than a pachinko parlour.  Shock!! Horror!!

I find these treasures growing in a narrow area beside a  tall building.

And then I find this - I can scarcely believe my eyes.  It's not one of my favourites.

And near the hotel, the back of a house where space is at a premium and plants are potted.

Finally, I stand on the station platform waiting for the shinkansen, my possessions gathered around me and the requisite bento box purchased and ready for lunchtime on the train. 

Settled into my seat with the case jammed into the space between my knees and the seat in front, I sit back to take in the passing scenery and demolish the contents of the bento box.  Most of the seats in this car were taken by Japanese business men, using the train time to catch up on lost sleep.

Not for them the wonder at the hoped for, but not expected, sight of Mt Fuji, which appeared as the train drew closer to Yokohama. Excitement!!   The remainder of the passing scenery was the usual mix of commercial, industrial and residential buildings with smaller areas of agricultural land, some of which appeared to be tea plantations. 

Mt Fuji

Shin Yokohama station was the setting for much walking back and forth, looking all about and sometimes walking in circles. I could have avoided all this if I had studied the train lines map more carefully. I was on the correct train when I left Shin Yokohama – I couldn’t get out the map to verify it while I was strap hanging and case-herding on the train. With a little bit of help from my friends, new found friends at ticket barriers and information boxes, I made it to Kannai station.

On the last leg; all I have to find is the Yokohama stadium, it’s huge and it must be nearby.   I’m rescued by a kind man, who no doubt thought if I didn’t stop spinning around in every direction in an effort to find a recognisable land-mark, I would fall to the ground.  Pointed in the right direction, I was soon walking by the stadium.  

Massed tulip beds near Yokohama Stadium

Alongside this huge building was a magnificent display of tulips, a sight to lift my drooping spirits.  Ever onwards and past a very inviting bar, where I could easily have paused and rested over two or ten beers.  At last, Osanbashi Pier and the ship and the formalities of checking in then opening the door to my home for the next three weeks.

What bliss, to thrown myself down on the bed and rest my weary legs and know I do not have to pull that goddam case anywhere for the next three weeks.

Lines, tickets, shopping and the Bamboo Grove

Every day is a revelation.  And a challenge.

Kyoto Station is a place where you can arrive by train, book into a hotel, shop at supermarkets, specialty shops including those at the high end of the market, eat a variety of Japanese food, see a movie and view the city from above, all without ever leaving the station.

Asty Road, an arcade within the station precinct has a wonderful variety of shops; especially pastry shops.   The challenge is to return the next day and find the exact shop that has those irresistible pastries.  Beyond my capabilities, I quickly realised.

Lines are commonplace in busy areas such as Kyoto station and the first line today was at the rail ticket vending machines.  There is a sanity preserving red button on the machine; when pressed, this button comes up with the ticket buying process in English. With the usual couple of false starts and dark mutterings, I master the situation and after that buying a ticket is easy-peasy.

The ever-smiling man who answers all bus service questions at the bus station advised taking the train to the Inari shrine.  Good advice; the trains get there more quickly and run more frequently than the buses.  Following the crowd, one of my rules of thumb for travel in foreign cities, I soon found the shrine entrance and after sauntering around the entrance buildings I joined the long, long line of people making the pilgrimage through thousands of  torii gates.

Entrance to the Shrine                  Shrine detail






The Inari Shine is a popular place for both domestic and international tourists and I spent some time in the forecourt area before venturing off  on the walking trail.

The Worship Hall

Along the torii trail.

The day was warm and foolishly I started without any water.  I had to quit before the half way mark, a very good idea when I look at the map of the complete walking tail.  After my stopping point the trail becomes very steep and it would have been beyond my capabilities. At this point I made a mental note to buy a walking pole, to help with balance.  Especially when walking over uneven terrain surrounded by people walking in the same direction and as many coming from the opposite direction.

On the way out of the Shrine grounds I considered this somewhat irreverent idea - a shrine to Pepsi.

Back at Kyoto station I applied myself to the serious business of buying a ticket for the bullet train which will take me to Yokohama tomorrow.  Happily it is a painless process (apart from the cost!) and I didn’t have to do battle with a vending machine.  Instead a young lady from JR assists me and now I am set to take the shinkansen from Kyoto to Yokohama, just after 11 am tomorrow.

Late afternoon and I am on another train to the Bamboo Grove, after a misstep where I get off the train one stop too early I eventually find my way to the Bamboo Grove using the usual method of tagging along behind a group.  This method almost failed me as it was quite a walk to the grove and the people ahead were fast walkers.

As a result I approach the main area from the wrong direction but I discover a cemetery (below)

 and groups of girls dressed in beautiful, traditional Japanese costumes, having fun and thoroughly enjoying themselves (below). 

The Bamboo Grove is a fascinating place to visit, even when it is quite late in the day.  The sound of the rustling bamboo and the clicking of the stems as they sway in the wind is the soundscape to the walk.  The Grove is open 24 hours a day, but I do think it might be an eerie place to visit at night.

My very ordinary offering of a Bamboo Grove photo - compared with this

I also discover the scenic train and rue leaving my visit until so late in the day.  Quite by accident I see the scenic train passing by as I walk back to the Bamboo Grove proper; it seems I have missed a great opportunity to see something else by train.  There is more to the scenic train than first meets the eye, as you will discover if you click on this link.

Another good reason to spend more than four days in Kyoto.

         

Kyoto by bus and foot

Following on from yesterday’s unfortunate, unexpected and permanent camera malfunction (not the actual words I applied to the situation, let me assure you) my first task for the day was a familiarisation course. Without going into the mind-numbingly boring details, let me tell you this took time and a considerable amount of temper to get to the place where I felt I had at least a slim idea of how I might manage my ‘new’ camera.

This time loss meant the day’s schedule had to be re-set and it was later in the morning when I bought an all-day bus and underground rail ticket and set off for the bus station on the far side of Kyoto station. By some miracle I left the bus at the right stop, walked up a long incline in the hot sun, found an ice-cream stall and crowds of people and eventually the temple I had circled on my map.

All this happened more by accident than design.

The temple I had circled on my map was the Silver Pavilion and it is not silver at all.  It was the intention of the Shogun, Ashikaga Yoshimasa to have the structure covered in silver leaf but his dream was derailed by the Onin War in the mid-fifteenth century. 

So today there is a plain, unadorned temple surrounded by moss gardens and a striking dry stone garden.  In spite of the many visitors, it was a lovely garden to walk through and the green mossed areas provided a strong contrast in colour and form to the blinding white of the dry, landscape gardens.

Dry Stone Garden

Walking through the moss gardens

Leaving the Silver Pavilion behind, I returned to the Philosopher’s Path.  It was my intention to find a place to walk in Japan, in the time available to me, and this path was the only one I could find within easy distance of Kyoto. It’s far from a hike but still provided a place to stroll along beside an inner-city stream and admire the remnant cherry blossom and other lovely early spring flowers. 

Rhododendrons

Left:  The path                   Right:  The view

Successfully finding the bus stop and returning to the inner city, I detoured to the Gyoten Gardens. These are the gardens surrounding the Imperial Palace at Kyoto.  Not gardens strictly speaking, more in line with the idea of an open parkland with large grassed areas, groupings of trees and wide gravelled paths.

These gardens cover quite an area and offered a quiet place for walking or sitting, a contrast to the rumble of traffic outside the garden walls. A place whose quiet was only disturbed by occasional loudspeaker announcements, warning persons (children) that touching the Palace walls is forbidden, never mind attempting to climb upon them!

                                     

            Palace entrance gate - note line in foreground, made through the gravel by cyclists

      Palace building detail


I walked along by the river for a while as I headed back to the hotel, using the bus at the end of the journey as my feet were starting to feel more than a little tired.

While I am wishing I could spend more time here in Kyoto, there is so much I would like to see, I am very, very pleased I made the decision to at least spend a few days here.

Journey to the far distant and the not-so-distant past.

My first full day in Japan sets a cracking pace; an early start, a quick breakfast and waiting in the grand foyer of the New Miyako Hotel while throngs of foreign tourists mill about and trolleys piled high with luggage are wheeled out to the bus loading bay.

Our small group is shepherded across the road to Kyoto station by the JR representative to wait for the arrival of the shinkansen.  It’s all so easy when you have some-one to oversee a new experience, alleviating any uncertainty and concerns at not getting something as simple as the ticket barrier process right.  

The sleek white train glides into the station, the platform gates slide open, we file onto the train, find our seats and settle back for the two and a half hour journey to Hiroshima, where our guide will meet us.

The train speeds along; we pass houses set shoulder to shoulder against their neighbours, multi-storied apartment blocks in the usual beige, grey or fifty shades of brown and in Osaka modern, commercial high rise glass towers dominate the landscape.  Between tunnels, there are brief glimpses of sunshine, tortoiseshell tiled roofs, coastline, wooded hillsides and television aerials by the thousand.

Mickey our guide is waiting to meet us at Hiroshima station.  She leads us all to the waiting bus; with only one brief stop to look at the reconstructed 16^th Century Hiroshima Castle, we make our way through the city with its tramlines, six rivers and thousands of bridges to the ferry taking us the short distance to Miyajima Island. 

Hiroshima Castle

Time is limited on the island and we fit in a short tour through the shopping arcade (read souvenir shops) followed by a tour through the Itsukushima Shrine and the remainder of the time is ours to fill in as we choose.

The Itsukushima Shrine, registered on the UNESCO World Cultural Heritage List in 1996, is impressive structure not only from an historical perspective but also for its quiet beauty and an all-pervading sense of calm and peace.

The great Torii, which sets the boundaries between the spirit and the human world, stands out in the water, unless it is low tide.  We were there at high tide, when it looks as though it is floating on water.  It is a very popular site for photos; there was also a long narrow boat taking people out to have a closer look.

Photos above (left to right) glimpse of Torii Gate from Shrine - pagoda & Shrine - lamp & Shrine walkway.

Temizuya Water Pavilion. The place for the ritual purification ceremony, using the ladle to scoop water up and rinse each hand and then the mouth.  

A wedding party.  The bride was beautiful.  I threw all ideas of showing any  respect for the privacy of the wedding party and joined in the photo-frenzy with all the other onlookers!

Lunch, that all important time of the day, found most of the group seeking out whatever café took their fancy.  My choice was a café specialising in okonamiyaki, Hiroshima-style. The café was packed and some seats were reserved but I was lucky enough to get the last seat at the counter,  right in front of the cooking plate where you can watch your food being prepared and cooked.

Gotanda Shuji - the man making it all happen.

A close-up look at  the okonamiyaki as it cooks.

It's action stations on the business side of the grill, while on the other side the diners watch in anticipation of a tasty lunch.

After lunch there was some time to wander around and take in the sights or spend more time in the souvenir shops before we all gathered at the ferry terminal for the return trip to Hiroshima.

Deer abound on Miyajima Island and while I thought this one was very clever, opening a packet of snacks and eating them quick smart, it seems there is another side to the deer story.

In my final walk around I managed to find some blossom.  

The gathering dark clouds that had been working up to a rain storm turned on the water-works as we stepped off the bus at the Peace Park.  White handled, see-through umbrellas were handed out and we followed Mickey around by the A-Bomb Dome, listening and dodging puddles as we walked. Nearby is the spot marked as the hypocentre of the atomic blast and in the basement of a building close by, a man amazingly survived the blast, living until 1982. 

The A-Bomb dome,  Hiroshima

The Children’s Peace Monument is a statue of a young girl holding a folded crane and is said to represent Sadako Saskai, whose attempt to fold a thousand paper cranes in order to attain a return to health, inspired millions of people to send folded paper cranes with messages of peace to the Park.

Paper cranes at the Children's Peace Monument 

The nearby Peace Bell can be rung by visitors to indicate their wish for peace; the curved dome above the bell represents the universe and a step has to be negotiated in order to swing the rope which propels the log forward and strikes the bell.  Not easy for old, uncoordinated people…

With the rain becoming increasingly heavy we moved quickly towards the Peace Museum and joined the crowd filing through the exhibition rooms.  As we walked through the museum, our guide Mickey told me of her mother, who lived out of the city and had been visiting family in Hiroshima at that time.   She remembered nothing of the actual blast and seldom spoke about this terrible day except to say after she regained consciousness she made her way through the city to the port area and there were mountains of dead bodies everywhere.  When I saw survivor's drawings of the aftermath  in the main building, I realised how this terrible scene of death and devastation might have appeared to her.

A diorama depicting survivors of the A-Bomb show people, their clothes reduced to burned rags, the skin on the hands and arms peeling off and surrounded by fire and wrecked buildings.  It is a gruesome scene and one which has prompted much debate about how the horror affects children seeing this scene while visiting the Museum. Far less disturbing, but well worth visiting, is the audio visual display area where survivors relate their individual experiences when the bomb was dropped.  This is not a museum where you visit and go away with raised spirits. Quite the opposite.

 Outside the rain poured down in torrents, we hurried to the bus, dampened in body and spirit and our driver delivered us to Hiroshima Station. We said goodbye to Mickey, boarded another shinkansen. Night fell; monochromatic scenery flew by occasionally interspersed by bright, multi-coloured neon signs. At Kyoto Station our group stepped out onto the platform and dispersed into the night.

A very long day filled with a whole variety of experiences; beauty and calm, from hundreds of years ago and horror and destruction from relatively recent times.

Tulips in the Peace Park.  The very last photograph from my point and shoot camera before it quit working.