Komome
Komome means "Seagull" in Japanese, and that's just how this train traveled. A quick smooth start away from the station, swiftly winding and twisting it's way southward out of the city of Hakata, then rapidly stretching out toward the southern coast, gliding over rice fields and rivers, heading toward the sea...and Nagasaki. I pushed my seat back and stared out the window.
The quiet train allowed me to reflect on what a kick it is for me to travel. The farther away from home, the more exciting to me. The stranger the culture, the more I like it. The weirder the circumstances, the more I want it. But today my destination was Nagasaki. My carefree attitude to adventure had run smack into the emotional brick wall of Hiroshima two days earlier. It was sobering...and painful indeed.
To steal myself back from the heartache of such a great tragedy, I decided to avoid the museum and "Ground Zero" park this time, and to instead seek out what was vibrant and living in Nagasaki. To visit the beautiful temples, to taste the delicious exotic local eats, and to slowly drink in all the deliriously luscious life Nagasaki had to offer.
Anything but tragedy again.
I explored the dense warren of Nagasaki on foot all day, visiting quiet temples, lovingly cared-for shrines, wonderful restaurants and raucous bars all day. It was exhausting, but ever fascinating. Near sunset, I slowly began winding my way up the narrow streets, climbing ever higher up into the surrounding mountains.
As
the deep blue of night covered the sky, the full moon rose in a blaze
of light over my shoulder, lighting the spectacular city scene below.
For such a long journey, it was more then reward enough. My heart had
been healed in process.