10 january

On the way to Hiroshima, we got on the wrong shinkansen. It DID went to Hiroshima, but it was a "Nozomi" train. You can read here: Super-de-luxe train wich is forbidden for J-railpass-holders. The first stop we jumped out, doing so, avoiding a big fine the conductor wanted us to pay (helped by the sentence: "Wakarimas sen" (I do not understand)).
In Hiroshima we instantly took the tram to the peace-park and museum. Once we got of the tram an old man came to us. He told us his story that on August the 7th 1945 (the A-bomb fell on the 6th)he came looking for his father and his brother. He never found them,... And still, the story was a little bit breath-taking, but it's real intensivity reached us when we visited the peace museum.Bottles melted into eachother, sand melted into trinitite, the shadow of people marked into stone forever, the ripped clothes of a young studend, the tricicle of an almoust 4 y.o. kid,... the stories of survivers,...It was an incredible emotional experiance. The beautifull part is that it wasn't accusing America, it was just telling the message, or even better the warning; "See what misery war can bring, especially nucleair weapons". Only to bad one American was to stupid to understand that message and noted in the guestbook a defence and a justification for the bombing.
Tom and I went to a sandwich-bar (some more healty food for a change :oD ) and another local adressed us. She was the owner of the fish-lab bar called Wako. She invited us to come over to her bar, because she had other foreign friends (Australian, American and Canadian) she wanted us to meet.
picture: Hiroshima peace museum, a ripped shirt of an 13 y.o. student