Hiroshima’s pride

Hiroshima’s pride

Hiroshima city.
A particular place in southern Japan, to visit, however, preparing yourself emotionally and spiritually. A place where silence reigns supreme and says everything about its past, its experience, the present and the future to come.


From roads as wide as an Italian highway to small streets which for the Japanese are of normal size but which for us Italians is
equivalent to a highway. I came across, with my travel companion, what is a resilient, silent, respectful city.


I remind you, when you enter the city of Hiroshima it is like entering a place of worship, of life experience even if you have not lived it but which make you live from the moment you set foot in that great city rebuilt over the years’ 50, getting off the Japanese fast train, or the shinkansen. Train that we can only admire for the great technology installed inside. Not to mention the precision of the times that the Japanese people set with absolute records.


I open a small parenthesis to tell you one day at the Osaka station the Japan Rail staff apologized for 30 seconds late.


Initially you think it’s a small provincial town. Take a walk through the streets of that spiritual city. You realize after twenty minutes of travel that is not as small as a provincial city. You decide to take a bus that takes you to the central area of Hiroshima. In all respects the heart that pulsates with pain but pride.


The epicenter of that atomic bomb that resulted in so many deaths. So many deaths that the raw Hiroshima highlights you well by hissing with the wind “look what you have done”.

And it is precisely from the epicenter of the resilient Hiroshima that a somewhat emotional, spiritual, conscientious tour begins. That examination of conscience that lets you think of so much cruelty is little humanity that the so-called human being has. A skeleton of the only building left standing. Of those brick on the ground with dust and plates.

Those rubble left there after so many years spent as a symbol of human cruelty.


The epicenter.
The walk continues over a bridge and up to the Hiroshima museum. Japan is known for Manga culture. To signal a danger, “attention” signals are not used as we do here in Italy, cartoons are used. That explain the danger with cartoons.


Cartoons out, but so much human sense and redemption in that museum, so raw and so real as to be able to glimpse what is
the post-explosion and what is left after … Nothing.


It is necessary, when going to Japan, to make a stop even for one day in Hiroshima. But don’t think of thinking you can have fun. In Hiroshima you enter on tiptoe. In silence. As if a child is sleeping and everyone, out of respect and love, passes close by in silence and delicacy; listening to what he wants to tell you and emotionally feeling what the city has gone through.


One day, in the continuation of the walk, is enough to visit what is the world monument to the deceased of the nuclear bomb.
That fire that is always lit, that flame that makes it clear to the whole world that in Japan it does not stop even with catastrophes
of this kind

To try to lighten what is the day to how emotionally cloudy it is above all the period of the year, the so-called cherry blossom,
in Japanese called Hanami.
We are between the end of March and the beginning of April and, by consulting the weather boards for all railway stations.
We decide to visit half of Japan following what is the cherry blossom, it is at that moment Hiroshima was in the heyday of the bloom of white, pink and fuchsia cherry trees.


For Japan, Hanami is a very important holiday. And as for all self-respecting parties, the Japanese community gathers in most of the parks, large or small they can be, to have a meal in their bento (typical Japanese lunch box dispenser) in the company of friends, relatives and colleagues under the cherry trees. Large trees that cover most of the park and create a magical atmosphere.


This is a good way to lighten the day in Hiroshima in late March, with a spring in 2017 so bursting that it is surrounded by pink, white and fuchsia petals of beautiful cherry trees.
We too, to identify ourselves with Japanese culture, have eaten our sushi purchased in the many vending machines located in
stations all over Japan.
This was the day that, with my travel companion, we dedicated to a piece of history that is sometimes forgotten but that I would like to remember

Madia Lanza

Have any Question or Comment?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Share This