I had to be back in Tokyo Sunday evening, a five hour train ride from Hiroshima. So what did I do at 9 am on Saturday morning? I decided to add a stop on my way to Hiroshima -- Himeji -- the site of what is generally considered Japan's most beautiful feudal castle -- so I bought a ticket ... and had to wait.
Unfortunately, Himeji is a local stop and the Shinkensen system is primarily made up of limited trains, so it was a long wait until the next train -- about an hour.
After making sure I knew where to be when the time came I took my breakfast to the waiting room and was met with a very exciting sight.
I had definitely made a concerted effort to forget about everything going on back in the states while I was in Japan. (Everything that is, except California Golden Bears football, #2!) The playoffs had started before I realized that the Mets had completed their monumental collapse and the Rockies, their miraculous finish. At this point, though, I was ready for a little taste of home and 45 minutes of the Angels getting knocked around the park pretty much hit the spot.
Forty-five minutes later, I arrived in Himeji, dropped my suitcase in locker and embarked on the ten minute walk to the castle.
It was a beautiful site -- and only spending about 45 minutes there, it's hard to imagine anything different -- but the stop didn't seem to offer much else. It was quite beautiful, though.
Of course, it's always fun to have reminders of places where you just don't fit in:
Yes. That's a door.
Unfazed, I made it through the tiny door and headed back to the train station ... and got an ugly reminder that making reservations is a good idea. The next train to Hiroshima was full. Worse, the one after that only had room in the smoking car. That was bad. People didn't even smoke that much -- but the car just reeked of years worth of cigarette smoke. Before I even boarded the train, I could smell the smoke the moment the door opened. Note to self -- reservations -- good idea. Lesson learned, right? Right?
So I arrived a couple hours later than I planned, checked into my Ryukin, dropped off my bags and headed to the ferry to try to make a late trip to Miajima. I was too late.
But, I did get a lovely view of the Inland Sea at dusk:
In what proved to be a common theme during my trip, when winging it didn't work out, it usually turned out for the best. Unable to set sail, I headed back to the Peace Memorial Park to take in the monuments.
The Monument with the A-Bomb dome in the background.
The Monument with the museum in the background.
The A-Bomb dome.
In search of some companionship, I headed to the local Irish Pub, Molly Malone's drank some Guinness and hung out with a couple of Aussies who played for the local professional rugby team. We were joined by a large group of very friendly (and very drunk) fellows from the Kiwi Navy.
After a number of beers and a couple of soccer matches, I headed back to my hotel, put on my yakuta and enjoyed a spot of tea before bed.
The next morning I was up early and off to the Peace Memorial Museum. It was a somber experience. It didn't take long for the sobbing to begin. Perhaps I'm a bit hard hearted, desensitized by movies and video games or just an insensitive bastard, but I was there for a good twenty minutes before it really started to get to me. The seemingly endless stories of children whose sandals or school bag were found, while they never were.
From there I took a quick trip to Miajima to see the floating torii.
While there, I enjoyed this absolutely fantastic treat:
A fried fish cake, with little potato bits, wrapped in bacon!
And then it was off to the train station ... where I hadn't made a reservation. It wasn't a big deal -- I just had to make a quick transfer in Okayama ... no big deal. But I really should have learned my lesson and made a reservation. Fortunately, I only got a little lost in the train station when I got back to Tokyo.
The next day I was scheduled to take a quick train to the airport and get back on a plane headed America. As I was waiting for the train, I couldn't help but think, 'I don't want to go, but I'm really sick of waiting for this damn train.'
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