Singapore

From bustling Tokyo, we boarded a luxurious Singapore Airlines flight to Asia's tiniest city-state for the second leg of the Paul and Jen summer reunion trip. Singapore tends to divide public opinion along pretty even lines: people love it for its clean, rule-abiding, well-organised, educated population; people hate it for its clean, rule-abiding, sterile smallness. 

With a 30 hour stopover between Japan and our next destination, Malaysia, I'm not sure we had time to come to any definitive conclusions. Plus, in all reality, the only reason we came was to spend the night at the Marina Bay Sands. In an attempt to maximise our MBS time, we arrived late on Monday night and checked into a comparatively cheap (but still fairly expensive) private hostel room, a room without any windows. 

Pre-check in the next morning, we took to the streets of Little India and Chinatown. Much like Malaysia, Singapore's humble beginnings as a trading port make it possible to glance all of Asia's cultures in microcosm. In Little India you can eat lunch, worship in a temple and buy garlands down the same tiny side road: 

And then you step down another road in another part of town and the smells, sounds, sights (minus the spitting, it's illegal here, thank God; and the durian...durian is illegal to transport on the metro) could be China: 

At precisely 2pm, we dragged our bags to check in at the Marina Bay Sands. And from there, the details get a bit fuzzy. I mean, we checked out the view of part of the 50% of Singapore that's covered in parks and public gardens:

And then we toddled up to the infinity pool that spans the top of the 57th floor, connecting the three buildings in watery unity.  From there, we languished behind room key-access only security eating chips and drinking Singapore Slings. Half the pool was adult-only; the drinks arrived to your deck chair; the view from the edge made you feel otherworldly.

 

We moved from pool to chair to hot tub pods on the opposite side of the roof. The city loomed around us.

As the lights went down and the pool remained crowded, we decided to come up for air and hit the city, if nothing more than for the view we were currently a part of. 

This too, did not disappoint: 

The one downside to this very silver cloud happened to be my mismanagement of bookings. The next day, we were due on Tioman Island, a four-hour bus ride, border crossing and ferry away.  The only available bus left departed as 6am. So when I dragged Paul out of the world's most comfortable bed, I could feel the daggers in my back. Not that I blamed him.

Miyajima Island

From Peace Park in central Hiroshima, we spied a little canal boat with a sign boasting rides to Miyajima Island. And since I love a boat ride, we decided to see what it was all about.

As it turns out, Miyajima, a colloquial nickname for 'shrine island', is famous in Japanese lore. The actual name of the city is Itsukushima and it's apparently one of Japan's top three scenic sites. Home to a stunning shrine, a population of outgoing wild deer and the world's rice largest spatula, what's not to love? 

Bathroom signage!

Besides the giant wooden spoon, our first major encounter was with the wild deer. Warning signs across the island warn you in various languages that the deer eat everything--food, shoelaces, maps straight from your hand. They walk straight up to you:

Several times throughout the day we turned to hear the surprised shrieks of tourists who couldn't quite believe that the deer were so bold. It's very clear that the deer are in charge here. 

Because it seemed the summer for UNESCO World Heritage sites, we made our way to Itsukushima Shrine and the famous floating toril (flotation is tide dependent). The toril was the first thing we saw upon our approach and appeared as some kind of Moses-like apparition: 

Itsukushima Shrine itself floats at/above the water. The buildings are all open-air and connected by a series of wooden planks. Red is the predominant colour and various vantage points offer moments for quiet repose: 

Sake casings in the shrine: 

Looming in the distance of that shrine, lies several other religious buildings, pagodas, perhaps. 

But the humidity was rising and the elevation in places made walking something quite sweaty so we decided to head to the beach on the opposite side of town. This involved a mini-bus that, despite the scorching weather, was still 'out of season.' June is not beach season in Japan. The Japanese are a very rule-abiding people. This is how we found ourselves as one of three (Western) couples on a beautiful little strip of beach. Unfortunately the water was somewhat infested with jellyfish, which kept our swimming to a minimum. But it sure looks pretty:

Had we wanted to see it, Miyajima Island could have offered us a lot more: hikes up big hills; gorgeous food; shrine upon pagoda upon religious relic. We settled for a ferry and bus ride back to Hiroshima where we promptly hid from the heat. 

Hiroshima

In a city humbled by history, I did not expect to find such charm. Naive, yes. Because it's sometimes difficult to remember that in the midst of war, innocent civilians on both sides get caught up in a fight they did not start. But despite the effects of the atomic bomb, the city is very much one of modernity. Mazda's home is not far away, tiny little cocktail bars can be found on various floors of the city's low-rise buildings and the residents of this wide-laned city cycle, walk and drive their way to myriad destinations.

The centre of the city is bisected by a place called Peace Memorial Park, a green space dominated by over fifty statues and memorials commemorating peace, not just peace in Japan but all over the world.

Nearby, the Peace Memorial Museum is open to visitors. Wikipedia comments that: 'Be warned: a visit here, while absolutely worthwhile, will ruin your day. Allow plenty of time afterward to decompress.' This is absolutely true.

At its centre, the Atomic Bomb Dome, the epicentre where the bomb was dropped on 6 August 1945, lies as a stark reminder about the necessity of peace. Japan's post-war message is one of pacifism and that message became very clear throughout our time in the city. 

The Cenotaph for the Atomic Bomb victims lies within sight of the Dome. It carries the name of every known person to die from the atomic bomb, regardless of their nationality. Over the years it has been updated to included the names of the hibakusha, Japanese individuals who were directly affected by the atomic bomb and subsequently died of radiation poisoning, cancer and other diseases thought linked to the bomb. 

The Children's Peace Monument is filled with paper cranes, largely inspired by a little girl called Sadako Sasaki whose story, Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, I read in high school:

Paper cranes sent from children all over the world. There were cases and cases of cranes with messages attached to them:

But Hiroshima is much more than the 1945 moment in history. All across the city we were met with kind, helpful people who were busy getting on with their lives. Culinarily, we continued to eat excellent food. Okonomiyaki, the Japanese pancake we sampled in Tokyo, has two regional homes. The Osaka variation we'd already tried. But Hiroshima does it its own way and we queued outside a restaurant near the Peace Park for a local taste. 

Instead of making it ourselves, we were seated at the teppan (grill) at the front of the restaurant. Our chef flipped and fried his way into our stomachs. The Hiroshima version of okonomiyaki layers its ingredients instead of mixing them all together. Squid and shrimp was added to a generous layer of noodles, cabbage and a spicy sauce.

The final version was delicious but, in the end, it turns out we loved the Osaka version just a little better. Not that we told anyone.

On our final day, after a sweaty walk around Hiroshima Castle,

and in order to beat the heat, we ventured to Central Park Family Pool, a local community pool and water park. For a nominal fee, we were given a locker and proceeded to make lap after lap in the lazy river before warming ourselves on the pavement and jumping again back into the swimming pool. It wasn't fancy but it was fun.

Our final, final stop was a bar in the drinking district called Tropical Bar Revolucion. We followed the neon rooftop sign into a tiny lift and up to a bar that seated maybe ten people indoors, max. The charming bartender/proprietor informed us that it was Nobu's favourite bar and proceeded to pour us several rather strong mojitos before showing us pictures posing with famous footballers on his Okinawa holiday.

All in all we were grateful to have made our way to visit this tragic, beautiful city. Definitely important and more than meets initial expectations.