travel
Japan, part 4:
Nagasaki and The Pacific
collected petals in my backpack
It is the first time I am seeing the Pacific. Lenny is standing on top of a fence, looking far ahead, and I climb up the next post. His hands are wide apart, one – holding a camera, while another is catching air in its palms. I feel mild trembling as I am trying to do the same – the ocean is so close and so distant, all at once, that spreading your arms wide open feels liberating. It is wonderful how life brought me here now, to the right bottom corner of my regular map location, - I catch myself thinking as I pick up the next red petal from the ground. We cross the trees, still empty from the recent winter, open, vulnerable to the weather and the strong wind we are experiencing.
– Funny how they have the vending machines even in the middle of nowhere, right? – I say, grabbing my already beloved coffee from the bottom shelf. It is a pit stop building on the side of the road, with the regularity of the bricks framed by a curved roof.
– Funny how they have the vending machines even in the middle of nowhere, right? – I say, grabbing my already beloved coffee from the bottom shelf. It is a pit stop building on the side of the road, with the regularity of the bricks framed by a curved roof.
As we walk through the forest, we pass a small shrine, reigning in the ultimate silence of civilization, embraced by the wind, the melody of unpolluted nature. I wonder how many people see that shrine. Probably not many, I think as we walk on. Lenny is walking with a bamboo stick he found on the side, joking around, fencing. We see settlements down in the mountains, the blooming cherry trees, the sea. Once we reach the top, we see a small concrete pavilion and a bell, Lenny rings it loudly, the deep sound merging with the wind. On our way back, I carry watercolor in my hands as it is still drying; my backpack is filled with fallen flower buds I am hoping to bring back home – how naïve! At dusk, we board the bus back to Nagasaki, sharing a serene conversation about life and friendships.
In Nagasaki, our hostel is stereotypically Japanese: a capsule hostel, tranquil and quiet, where we are making dinner to finish the day right. We know that tomorrow a Shinkansen awaits us at 6 o’clock in the morning: we have to go back to Saga; still, for now I am here, on the upper level, next to the bookshelves kept by the hostel, which I immerse myself into reading. This day is imprinted, engrained in me, as I think of it as one of my most favourite days of 2023.
I believe Nagasaki became the best-loved memory of my journey. Three of us – Tigo, Lenny and I, are running from a pouring rain to hide under a car to wait it out, laughing. Mountainous yet urban, gray yet colorful, cloudy yet…cloudy – I find Nagasaki especially beautiful and authentic. It is not inherently traditional yet not fully modern, and to me has a feeling of a “just a Japanese city” that I cherish. We explore it diversely: from the tram that we take to go to the Atomic Bomb Museum, to the walking alongside water and buses. Every minute spent in the city feels significant: the Atomic Bomb Museum preserves history, revealing the devastation of nuclear war and the lasting scars caused by the US bombing in World War II. We stay in silence as an underground memorial rises to the sky, illuminating the memory of those who have not survived. At night, we explore the narrow streets and stay close to the water, seating on the concrete floor, chattering.
I never imagined I would go to Japan that soon – yet, this opportunity appeared suddenly, as a most treasured gift of the year. I had to leave Japan more abruptly to prepare and have my art exhibition planned long time ago, so on 27th of February I catch the train to Osaka airport, for the last time observing Japanese landscapes. There is an infinity of things to write about this journey: architecture, art, feelings, all-the-shopping-I’ve-done-in-Tokyo, Lenny and I playing go at a bar in Kyoto. Yet, Kyoto and Tokyo are the places that have always gained attention when it comes to Japanese most visited destinations – hence, I will keep them here as photo memories, in my mind always revisiting the service I’ve seen in a Kyoto temple, with the sound of a dong leaving me, I believe, profoundly transformed, and mildly dizzy. I want to believe that my connection to Japan is not over, and shall continue over time, despite not taking the half a year exchange opportunity I had in Kyoto. I hope to keep my connection with Japan alive, weaving its aesthetics into my architecture projects.
Writing these stories down gave space to nostalgia, to move to that point in time and serenity I experienced in the moment. As even now, two years later, I vividly remember daily details, this tranquility is still within me, and I believe, shall always stay as a part of this Japanese transformation.
Writing these stories down gave space to nostalgia, to move to that point in time and serenity I experienced in the moment. As even now, two years later, I vividly remember daily details, this tranquility is still within me, and I believe, shall always stay as a part of this Japanese transformation.
