The eleven hour flight from San Francisco to Tokyo passed surprisingly quickly. Somewhere over the Pacific, I spent much of the time engrossed in Tokyo Phoenix, a documentary about the city’s repeated destruction and rebuilding through earthquakes, fires and war.
We arrived late and left for Hiroshima early the next morning. I was looking forward to riding the Shinkansen.
The train swiftly crossed 300 km/h, but it never felt aggressive. Elevated tracks and tunnels made space for wide curves. It felt like it was designed to make speed feel ordinary.
Mount Fuji appeared on the right. Cameras came out. Even the locals paused to look out and reminisce.
First intimate view of the city of Hiroshima was during our walk to the Peace Memorial Park from our hotel near Hiroshima station. The city was quiet and peaceful and the architecture felt modern and sleek.
One of the fondest memories of this visit was trying okonomiyaki cooked on an iron griddle built into the dining table. The meal itself felt slow and deliberate, the kind that makes you stay longer than you planned.
Standing in Hiroshima, there was a quiet sense of resilience in the city present in a way that is hard to put into words, but easy to feel.