The beautiful sadness of Nagasaki.
Traveling has been an integral part of my existence for over six years now. I have become one of those people who feels most at home suitcase in hand and camera at the ready. This was not exactly what I intended when I graduated, but nonetheless it has become who I am and defines a large chunk of how I have shaped myself.
I am lucky.
I am grateful.
Lately, I have been looking for an outlet where I can share how I truly view the world that I spend most of my time exploring and, at the same time, alleviate that niggling voice in the back of my head that tells me that I am taking it all for granted. It's the notion that I should somehow document my experiences to give weight to what has become 'normal' that drives me to start writing.
So here I am, ready to share.
Nagasaki presented itself to me quite easily as a good place to start, the reason being that it is a city that has taken me through a huge range of emotions in the mere 2 days I have spent there so far.
It is my first and, as of yet, only experience of Japan, so the first time I set foot on Japanese soil felt like ticking off a major life goal.
Nagasaki greeted us with glorious sunshine and crisp, clean air. Perfect weather for a January day. I had of course planned most of my day based on what must be done when you visit anywhere with such an earth-shattering past; I had my museum tickets at the ready.
The Atomic Bomb museum was never going to be a particularly pleasant experience, but I was unsure how I would personally react to being faced with the harsh reality of the tragedy that befel Nagasaki on the 9th August 1945.
Most predominantly, I felt the unquestionable injustice in the fact that it will forever be the innocent that suffer in times of strife. My incredulity at what humans are capable of doing to each other, I guess, was formed purely as a product of my own naivety. I prayed for the souls who were lost, and prayed that I may be fortunate enough to never experience such suffering.
Upon leaving the museum and the adjacent memorial (seen in photo) I felt the calm and peaceful recovery that Nagasaki has made since 1945. It is not merely bricks and mortar that has been relayed. You feel as you walk the streets that the city has refused to allow the Atomic Bomb to define it. Peace literally hangs in the air. There is none of the frantic hustle and bustle that plagues urban society elsewhere in the world. Instead, the streets are quiet, dignified. Even the traffic is respectful, and not a single horn made a sound the entire day. Nagasaki radiates elegance, and this was the impression I took with me on the rest of my days' travels.
Exploring the backstreets and residential areas, you can engulf yourself in tradition; from the architecture of every home, to the hidden gardens and graveyards woven into the heart of the city.
My heart was stolen that day, and remains so even now. Writing this post has given me the chance to sit still and return to that particular moment. I remember now how I felt, I remember what I learned and have re-awoken a memory that could have faded away as we move on to the next adventure. For now, my niggling notion that I have taken something so special for granted has receded. I can move on with confidence and look forward to further reflection, right here in my own little corner of the internet.
Until next time,
Lilly-Jane
