BEIJING, CHINA – “SHOW ME THE MONEY”

As alluded to in US car ads trying to amp up the image of a vehicle brand long considered a little too staid and boring, “This is not your Dad’s Buick.”  And so it is with Beijing.  The Chinese capitol is no longer the land of Mao jackets, proletariat workers, a zillion bicycles, Chairman Mao’s “Little Red Book,” jingoistic anti-American rants, concrete block low-slung apartments, and minimalist diets.  The city of 23 million has definitely stepped up to the plate with the legendary swagger of Casey At The Bat.

Sure, it is still huge.  Pollution is a stinging (and growing) problem.  Traffic is nasty, with 6 million cars on the road in this locality.  But vehicles are modern.  Major boulevards are ten lanes wide and well maintained.  Shops are plentiful and offer everything you might seek out in London, Paris or Milan.  The architecture is imaginative and modern.

Most of all, there is a relaxed sense of freedom.  Not political freedom, mind you.The Communist Party still has a monopoly in that sphere.  Elections such as they are still remain illusions.  But there is freedom to travel for visitor and residents alike: to walk where you choose, to take a taxi to your destination of choice without guide or accompaniment or permit, some employment mobility, and a relaxation of the heavy-handed Marxist-Leninist dogma that hung over Chinese society for too many years.

Residents have the money to dine out.  They wear western clothes.  They spend too much time on their cell phones like everybody else.  They parade around with tablets, taking photos of everything in sight, including pix of friends and relatives taking photos of each other (they may even outdo the Japanese in this regard).  They have leisure time.  They are now relaxed, approachable, and comfortable being citizens of the world.

When it comes to communism, many can hardly be bothered these days.  Most are too busy thinking about improving their job prospects, their latest consumer purchase, meeting up with friends, or how they can start a business.  It is all about the money these days in China.  When subtly asked about communism and ideology as part of their lives, they shrug: “Oh, that …”

In fact, I heard with more than a bit of levity that the government is threatening to increase the dosage of official Marxist-Leninist propaganda on public airwaves because the Chinese have become “too soft.”  This relaxed state of mind has led to the need for a crackdown on corruption related excess -- economic bounty unfairly distributed -- a periodic purge cycle that is hardly unique to China, except for the executions which are the preferred means of handling these problems.  China remains a bit behind in this arena.

My first stopover (on the way to the Great Wall of China) is the Ming Tombs.  This is a collection of imperial mausoleums built by the Ming Dynasty Emperors (1388 to 1644 AD), collectively known as the “Thirteen Tombs of the Ming Dynasty.”   It is located 40 kilometers northwest of Beijing, on the southern slope of Tianshou Mountain.  The site was chosen by the third Ming Dynasty Emperor Yongle (reigned from 1402–1424) based on the principles of Feng shui.

Yongle (the Emperor’s dynastic title: his birth name was Zhu Di) was responsible for moving the capitol of China from Nanjing to Beijing, and then arranging the layout of the city.  He provided for a number of other landmarks and monuments there, including a massive royal palace in 1420 now known as The Forbidden City.  The tombs (as part of a number of other sites around Beijing, includng Qing Dynasty Tombs) have been designated as a Unesco World Heritage Site since 2003.

Feng shui is a Chinese philosophical approach to harmonizing an object with its environment.  It is classified under physiognomy (appearances established through formulas and calculations). The feng shui practice relates architecture to "invisible forces" that bind the universe, earth, and humanity together.  This concept is known as qu (“chi”) in Chinese mythology.

Feng shui has widely been used to orient buildings -- usually spiritually significant structures such as the Ming Tombs but also dwellings and public structures, such that a suitable site and orientation could be determined by reference to prominent local features.  These include bodies of water, stars, mountains, passes, and compass headings.

According to site selection principles dictated by Feng Shui, bad spirits and evil winds descending from the north needed deflecting – thereby dictating that a shield shaped tranquil valley with quiet fields of dark earth and calm waters covering 40 square kilometers would be selected as the final resting place of the Ming Dynasty Emperors.

At present, only three tombs are open to the public. Zhu Di’s tomb (called Changling) remains the largest and most accessible. There have been no excavations of any tombs since 1989.  Plans for additional archeological research and further investigation of tombs have discussed but have been impeded by past events.

The only Ming tomb to have been excavated was Dingling ("Tomb of Stability”). It is the burial site of the Wanli Emperor, Zhu Yijun – the 13^th Ming Emperor and one with the longest reign.  His remains the only intact imperial tomb of any era to have been excavated since the founding of the People’s Republic of China, a situation that has resulted directly from the poor fate of Dingling’s attempted excavation.

Digging began there in 1956, after a group of prominent scholars advocated the excavation of Changling (Zhu Di’s larger and older tomb). Despite winning approval from the highest levels of the Communist Party leadership, this plan was vetoed by archaeologists because of the rank and public profile of Changling. Instead Dingling was selected as a trial site to pave the way for eventual excavation of Changling. Excavation of Dingling was completed in 1957, and a museum was established in 1959.

The excavation revealed an intact tomb with the skeletons of the Wanli Emperor and his two empresses.  Included were thousands of remnants of silk, textiles, wood, and porcelain.  There was however neither the technology nor the resources to adequately preserve the excavated artifacts. After several disastrous experiments, the extensive collections of silk and other textiles were simply piled into a storage room.  Sadly, it was subject to repeated leakage of wind and water. As a result, most of the artifacts severely deteriorated, necessitating replicas to be utilized in the Dingling museum instead.

Political pressures that had created hasty preparations for the excavation ensured documentation of the process and findings would be inadequate.  Mass political movements sweeping China which resulted in the Cultural Revolution of 1966 soon ensured all archaeological work would be stopped.

One of the key advocates of the Dingling project became the first major target of the Cultural Revolution and was “denounced.”  Fervent Red Guards then stormed the Dingling museum, dragging the remains of the Wanli Emperor and empresses to the front of the tomb, where they were posthumously also denounced and then burned. Many related artifacts from Wanli’s reign were also destroyed.

It was not until 1979, after the death of Chairman Mao Tse Tung and the end of the Cultural Revolution, that archaeological work was allowed to continue and an excavation report on Dingling was finally prepared by those archaeologists who had survived the turmoil.

Lessons acquired from the Dingling experiment have led to a new policy of the Chinese government not to excavate any historical site except in the case of natural disaster. In particular, no proposal to open an imperial tomb has been approved since Dingling, even when the entrance has been accidentally revealed (as occurred with the Tang Dynasty Qianling Mausoleum, famous for its above-ground statues and subterranean murals). The original plan to use Dingling as a trial site for Changling was completely abandoned.

Overall, the Ming Tombs are an impressive complex.  Zhu Di’s Changling Memorial is a place of beauty and calm repose.  The most impressive feature is a massive walled mound which constitutes the actual burial site, located behind his Memorial Hall (called the “Hall of Eminent Favor”).  The size of a city block, this natural appearing and now-wooded peak was actually built up from flat ground, one basketful of earth after another with the accumulated efforts of thousands of laborers over an extended period of time. The actual exact burial spot of Zhu Di within this artificial hill remains unknown.

I also had occasion at Changling to be reminded of Zhu Di’s trusted eunuch, Admiral Zheng He.  Before his passing two years ago, my Father had given me a copy of British author Gavin Menzies’ controversial book: “1421: The Year China Discovered The World,” in which he asserts that the fleets of Zheng He visited the Americas 70 years prior to Christopher Columbus in ships three times larger thanthe Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria.  Menzies claims the same Chinese fleet circumnavigated the globe a century before the expedition of Portugese explorer Ferdinand Magellan in 1522.

On some early European world maps used by navigators such as Columbus and Magellan, it appears that someone had charted and surveyed lands then unknown to the Europeans. Who could have charted and surveyed these lands before their 'discovery'?

In the book, Menzies concludes that only China had the time, money, manpower and leadership to embark on such expeditions.  He claims that from 1421 to 1423, the fleets of Zheng He discovered Australia, New Zealand, the Americas, Antarctica, and possibly the Northeast Passage,

circumnavigated Greenland, tried to reach the North and South Poles, and circumnavigated the globe.

Although the book contains numerous source data, critics point out that it lacks supporting Chinese references for voyages beyond East Africa, the location acknowledged by professional historians as the limit of the fleet's travels. Menzies bases his theory on original interpretations of academic studies, minority population DNA findings in the Americas, archaeological discoveries, and ancient maps.

Knowledge of Zheng He's discoveries disappeared, according to Menzies, due to Mandarin bureaucrats of the Imperial Ming court fearing the costs of further voyages would ruin the Chinese economy (Zheng He had at least seven lengthy voyages with very large and expensive fleets). He conjectures that when Zhu Di died in 1424 and the new Ming Dynasty Emperor Hongxi forbade further expeditions, the Mandarins hid or destroyed records of previous expeditions to parlay further expense.

Among maps cited by Menzies in his speculation about Zheng He’s accomplishments is one recently found at the U.S. Library of Congress by an academic, detailing the fleet explorations of Mongolian (and Chinese) Emperor Kublai Khan. The documents clearly show North America. Menzies believes the maps (which were supposed to have undergone carbon-dated), are from the late 13^th century.

Another map cited by Menzies is known as “The Harris Map.”  It was discovered 30 years prior to Menzies’ book in a curiosity shop in Taiwan by missionary Dr. Hendon Harris. This map looked to be ancient, written in classical Chinese and depicting what to Harris was again clearly North America. It was a map of Fu Sang, a legendary land of Chinese fable.

Fu Sang is to the Chinese what Atlantis is to the West -- a mythical land that most don't know really existed, but for which tantalizing evidence exists to maintain popularity for the idea. The map the missionary discovered showed that Fu Sang was located exactly where North America is. Even more amazingly, some of the features shown on the map of Fu Sang look a lot like geographical features unique to North America (including the Grand Canyon).

Other maps have also surfaced. Menzies points to one in particular as definitive proof that the Chinese had already explored the world long before the Europeans ever set sail in the Age of Exploration.  Known as the “1418 Map” for the date it was supposedly published, this etching clearly shows all of the world's oceans, all seven continents, and is correct in shape and form -- including the Potomac River adjacent to Washington, D.C.

Menzies believes that not only had the Chinese already explored the world before Columbus and other European explorers, but that it was with Chinese maps that the Europeans were able to circumnavigate the globe. Armed with the 1418 map as his leading evidence, Menzies notes plenty of other artifacts that point to Chinese pre-Columbus visitation of the Americas.

Menzies and fellow proponents of the “1421” theory have documented discovery of ancient Chinese coins at eight different sites in the Pacific Northwest of the US.  Off the coast of Big Sur (Calif) artifacts of pre-Columbus Chinese jade have been unearthed from a riverbed and the sea floor. Similar finds have been encountered off the coast of Florida. Also near Big Sur, massive donut shaped rocks known to have been used by the Chinese navy as anchors have been found in Drake’s Bay.

The world famous Great Wall of China is not a continuous wall but a collection of wall sections that often follow the crest of hills on the southern edge of the Mongolian plain. Known as the "Long Wall” in China, it extends about 8,850 kilometers along its primary course which roughly mirrors the modern southern Mongolia border.

The Chinese were already well familiar with the techniques of wall construction by the arrival of first unification under the Qin Dynasty in 221 BC. Prior to this time, leading back to the 8^th century BC and the Warring States Period in Chinese history, the states of Qin, Wei, Zhao, Qi, Yan and Zhongshan all constructed extensive fortified barriers to defend their own borders. Built to withstand the attack of small arms such as swords and spears, these relatively primitive walls were made mostly of stamped earth and gravel between board frames.

Qin Shi Huang conquered all opposing states and unified China for the first time, thus establishing the Qin Dynasty. Intending to impose centralized rule and prevent resurgence of feudal lords, he ordered destruction of some wall sections that divided his empire along its former state borders.  These were replaced by by a higher, stouter wall which connected remaining east-west sections to protect against raids from Xiongnu people to the north (1400 years short of Genghis Khan and the formation of Mongolia).

Transporting the large quantities of materials required for construction was difficult, so builders always tried to use local resources.  Mud and clay bricks from the mountains were used over hilly terrain, while rammed earth continued to be utilized in the plains. Few records survive indicating the exact length and course of the Qin Dynasty walls. Most of them have eroded away over the centuries.

Later, the Han, Sui, and Northern Dynasties all repaired, rebuilt, or expanded sections of the Great Wall at great expense to defend themselves against northern invaders.  That was not the only expense, however. The human cost of the project has been estimated at hundreds of thousands (if not up to a million) worker lives to build the Qin wall alone.

   

The major construction of what we know as the “modern” Great Wall began in the Ming Dynasty. The Ming fortifications were established in new areas from the Qin walls. They were up to 8 meters high, 5 to 9 meters wide at the base, and from 3 to 4 meters wide at the top (wide enough for marching troops or wagons). Wall exterior materials were upgraded to kiln-fired bricks and dressed cut stones.  At regular intervals, guard stations and watch towers or signal towers were also established.

A comprehensive archaeological survey using satellite technology has determined that the Ming walls measure 8,850 kilometers. This is made up of 6,259 kilometers of actual wall, 359 kilometers of trenches and 2,232 kilometers of natural defensive barriers such as cliffs and rivers. A separate archaeological survey found that the entire wall with all of its branches measure out to be an astounding 21,196 kilometers.

Since the Great Wall was discontinuous, Mongol invaders had little trouble breaching the barrier by traversing around it, so the wall ultimately proved unsuccessful and was eventually abandoned. Additionally, a policy of mollification during the Ch'ing Dynasty (aka Qing Dynasty, 1644 – 1912, which saw China expand to three times the size of the empire during the Ming Dynasty) that sought to pacify Mongol leaders helped to limit the need for the wall.

Once Mongolia became a battleground between competing Russian and Chinese interests in the 17^th to 19^th centuries and parts of southern Mongolia were absorbed into the Chinese Empire the need for a wall dissipated altogether.

Other purposes of the Great Wall historically have included border controls, imposition of duties on goods transported along the Silk Road, regulation or promotion of trade, and control of immigration/emigration. The path of the Great Wall also served as a transportation corridor.  All told, it was built in its various forms over a 1900 year period.

My own experience with The Great Wall was somewhat frustrating.  I arrived in the heat of summer, on a Sunday during a school holiday, in miserable humidity at the Badaling Section outside Beijing.  Pictures I’d seen of only four to five people every 100 meters were far from my reality.  What I encountered was more like a stairwell during a fire alarm.  People, more people, and their children were jammed hip to hip.  To top it off, they were all armed with metal-ribbed umbrellas, which were thoughtfully placed at eye level to blind relatively taller Westerners like me.

The views from The Great Wall were as advertised.  Simply incredible.  Who could have imagined Mongolian cavalry ever being able to ascend these relentlessly cascading hills?  Then the thought of building a massive wall on top of the steepest ridges possible overwhelms your sensibilities.  How did they get supply wagons here?  How did they get troops up on a timely basis?  Where did their water for mortar and to supply workers come from?  Many similar questions persisted in relation to this wondrous spectacle.

The Chinese themselves are friendly and even polite, yet highly inconsiderate at the same time.  Narrow stairways and passageways were often blocked by families taking a meal together and usurping the only seating opportunities available along the wall – ascending steps – so that transiting from one section to another became very difficult.  Therefore, given an option, I think it best to visit during the fall or spring.

JAPAN – FROM MIYAJIMA ISLAND TO KOBE ON A MUCH NEEDED LARK

Despite Japan putting its best face forward to make the most of a tragic situation, Hiroshima can still be a bit of a somber place.  Not so with nearby Miyjima Island.  This day retreat is the perfect escape from the self-imposed solemnity one feels while touring and trying to fathom the gravity of a single moment in time –“the A-bomb flash”—and its soul crushing aftermath.

Half an hour away by tram and then another half an hour’s journey by light rail brings the visitor to the mainland Miyajimaguchi Ferry Terminal.  From there it is a placid ten minute glide over to the island along the Inland Seto Sea.  Fresh off the boat, you are treated to a steady parade of jugglers, friendly food vendors (the island specialty is oysters on the half shell, and broiled conger eel over rice), and deer.

The deer are fearless.  You are warned about them often.  A sign reads:  “The deer on Miyajima are wild.  They may eat paper and cloth.  Please pay attention and keep an eye on your personal belongings – especially tickets and souvenirs as the deer might eat them.”  The sign fails to warn you that the deer are also lushes.  I am victimized in two separate moments of carelessness, failing to properly guard separate glasses of red wine while admiring the surroundings.  I don’t think they let a single drop hit the ground.

Some modernization has taken place on the island, but Miyajima is what you might expect a Japanese feudal village to look like once artisans and merchants have displaced the samurai warriors.  The island is considered one of the three most scenic spots in Japan.  Its crowning glory is the Itsukushima Shrine, which is separated in to two features and has one defining characteristic: the contrasting presence of its surroundings as a means of illustrating and highlighting the UNESCO World Heritage site (1996). 

The shoreline feature, much of it on stilts to accommodate tidal shifts, is composed of a primary shrine, a drama stage, music halls, and smaller shrines.  Eighteen buildings in all make up the complex, first built in 593.  It is framed in the foreground by changing water levels and their reflection, and in the background by the deep green forested slopes of sacred Mt. Misen -- an object of worship going back to ancient Japanese times.

The real object of visitor devotion lies about 200 meters immediately offshore from the tidal pilings of the shrine.  It is a single massive vermillion O-torii gate, 17 meters tall and 24 meters in width.  Its two main pillars are made of natural camphor wood, and its four supporting pillars are made of natural cedar.  The original goes back to the earliest days of the shrine, but the latest version (8^th edition) was constructed in 1875.  It weighs 60 tons, and stands under its own weight.

Very few objects (no matter what their size) command their setting like this enchanting masterpiece of understated historical architecture.  It has the power of the mysterious sentinel obelisk from Stanley Kubrick’s famous 1968 film “2001: A Space Odyssey,” yet without its intimidation factor.

At low tide, tourists flock around its six wooden pillars sunk deep into the sand just to bask in the comforting vibe given off by its solid presence.  The gate has a definite spiritual sanctity about it.  Many place prayer notes or coin offerings within creases in its cylindrical columns.

At high tide, glassy waters mimic the orange casting of the gate and project it onto the calm surface of the Inland Seto Sea.  During this time, the gate appears to be free floating and completely unmoored from its surroundings.  The effect is especially stunning at night, as the towering gate is mirrored onto the inky waters, magnified in effect by shore floodlights.

The effect is similar to suddenly rounding a corner, and seeing a mysterious foreign object.  It would be about the same as soldiers of Troy 3500 years ago, wandering down to the beach and finding a massive wooden horse apparently left as an offering by departing Greeks.  Questions of who … what … when … where … and why come to mind, but without resolution.  For this is a creation that you feel more than anything else.

While the Itsukushima Shrine and O-torii Gate draw the lion’s share of attention on Miyajima Island, other sites add to the pleasures of strolling its manicured pathways.  Those include hiking trails to Mt. Misen, and a photogenic five story red pagoda perched just above the shrine.  Shopping for everything from chocolates, samurai swords, foodstuffs (with samples generously offered everywhere), ice cream, wines, crafts, souvenirs, and the aforementioned eel and oysters is omnipresent.  Food is expensive, but at least is available in varying sample sizes.

Once again the bullet train is my means of escape out of town.  I am on my way to Kobe (famous for its perfectly marbled and expensive beef), not a top-shelf pick for me as a destination, but necessary to visit a friend.  Randy Bollig and I have known each other since high school.  His brother Pete played running back with me on a high school championship football team. His step-father John Lamat was both my coach, and my art teacher.

Randy had previously provided me with one of my trip highlights on an arranged tour outside Kathmandu to an orphanage he generously donates to, and a secondary school he provides support for as well.  I have no idea what to expect from this visit.  I have no objective in coming here.  I don’t even know what there is to see or do in Kobe.  I just know we are going to have fun.  And so it goes.

After stowing my relatively lightweight kit at his residence, we head off by cable car to the summit of Mt. Maya and the Kobe Nunobiki Herb Garden.  The visit is supposed to offer a culinary sensory peak opportunity, but I am Irish and my sense of smell is blocked three-quarters of the year (which interferes with being a wine snob on the level I would most prefer) and don’t smell a damn thing.  We laugh about this.

Then laugh further upon ordering lunch.  We are ushered to seating at the edge of a huge plate glass window with a territorial view, but it is a monsoon outside and visibility is about three yards.  There is nothing outside to gush over.  We also amuse ourselves over knowing we have purchased one-way gondola tickets, and must walk the two-mile return trip in this god forsaken weather.  Neither of us really care.  It is good to catch up.

There are a few weather breaks along the descent.  This allows us to admire the twisting masonry reinforced trail as it wound down both sides of a verdant vine-covered gorge, numerous rain enhanced waterfalls, a collection of rope foot bridges, an ancient water powered mill and and reservoir, an observatory, and several small temples overlooking the city.

Once down in the flats, there are ample opportunities to wander the narrow streets and alleys of Kobe’s specialized shopping districts and scout a collection of questionable local bars and restaurants.  Translation: here was an opportunity at last to sample in earnest Japan’s foremost libation, sake, as well as famous Japanese beers such as Kirin, Sapporo, Asahi, and Orion.  I found none of them wanting.

It becomes easy to lose track of our progression from place to place.  Randy has a plan, but it is not exactly shared.  By the time we have had our first two pints, we are well into the backslapping stage and exchange of … well … randy jokes.  I am enjoying this repartee and do not notice him take the waitress aside for special instructions.  “Order what you like,” he advised me.  “Nothing will bother you here.  I’ll throw in a few local specialties.”

Five minutes later, the waitress returns.  She has a quivering lip and finds it necessary to bite down to keep from expressing emotion.  A tear or two escapes the corners of her eyes.  Others from the wait staff linger nearby, seemingly without purpose.  Randy is strait faced, trying to give the impression he is really just doing quadratic equations or recalling some oscure Haiku to pass the time.  I am enjoying the beer and the conversation and don’t really notice the food.  Nobody moves.  Necks gradually crane forward.  Couples at nearby tables soon are in on the act.

I reach down for my knife and fork, and start to cut into the two dishes.  And suddenly it struck me … what the hell … ? I am staring at a massive sausage, leaning at a jaunty angle over my plate. A spread of curly sprouts is placed at plate level around it.  A pair of meatballs strategically positioned at its base and assisted by an assortment of toothpicks to keep the meat erect left nothing left to the imagination.

“Why … you tool!” I burst out in laughter.  And with that the relief vent shot off the pressure cooker.  Waiters, diners and my transgressor all exploded in laughter.  Still they looked on.  I quickly gathered why.  The second dish was only a shade subtler.  How do I describe this tastefully?  It consisted of thin sliced beef, pinkish on the inside folds and arranged in a slit to appear as if a very welcoming female in heat.  A glob of white horseradish sauce pooled at one end gave the impression one plate had just had its way with the other.

“Don’t think I’m going to sample that one,” I muttered.  And to the amused encouragement of locals and visitors alike, we made our way out for dinner and really serious sake sampling.  My host maintained a deadpan face the entire way.

We capped the evening at a Japanese restaurant serving traditional dishes made right at the table by a kimono clad female chef in the sukiyaki style – combining thinly sliced beef with vegetables, tofu and vermicelli.  I substituted seafood, given that I don’t fancy red meat.

We added tempura, deep-fried in vegetable oil after being coated with a mixture of egg, water and wheat flour. Among the ingredients used to my preference were prawns, fish and vegetables.  Some horse trading was also done between the two of us of kaiseki ryori,  regarded as Japan's most exquisite culinary refinement. It generally consists of vegetables and fish with a seasoning base of seaweed and mushrooms (there are variations).

In between bouts of sake – ingested from large bamboo sections sliced at a severe angle at the spout end – we further sampled yakitori -- made up of small pieces of chicken meat, liver and vegetables skewered on a bamboo stick and grilled over hot coals.  The protein portion of our meal was punctuated with helpings of soba and udon, two kinds of Japanese noodles. Soba is made from buckwheat flour and udon from wheat flour. They are generally served either in a broth or dipped in sauce and may be combined with meat.

Randy finally cracked a smile and admitted to his involvement in the faux genitalia appetizers at our previous stop.  Let it never be said that the Japanese – or English profesors residing in Japan – do not have a sense of humor.  Upon hearing of this prank, Japanese business revelers letting off steam at a nearby table came over to share in my denigration.  It was all in good fun.

The dozen or so at the table took turns buying rounds (it is a Japanese tradition to buy a round for all, and hope that somebody after you reciprocates).  Several of the women at the table came over to offer themselves as temporary girlfriend rentals, leading to great howls and finger pointing from the men in their company.  I have no idea how any of them managed to stand, let alone walk when it came time to leave.  And by this means, I balanced out Tokyo and Hiroshima with the lighter side of Japan – a sphere I was not sure existed prior to Kobe and Randy’s hospitality.

One odd little incident occurred on departing Japan for China at nearby Osaka International Airport.  I always carry a Swiss army knife with me.  It had accompanied me through 34 countries this trip.  I made sure to always keep it stored in my checked bag.  So when it went through the x-ray machine, I was surprised to see it draw attention.  I was told to grab my gear, and go with airport security personnel to a police kiosk.  I was not told the nature of their concern.

The security personnel asked me what the implement was.  I was dumbfounded.  “This is a utensil,” I responded.  “Famous all over the world.  Corkscrew, screwdriver, knife, file, mini-scissors … Surely you have heard of a Swiss army knife before?” They were unimpressed.  One pulled out a ruler. 

“Your blade is too big,” he intoned.  “In Japan you can not have a blade bigger than 6 centimeters.  Yours is 6.2 centimers long.  We will have to make a police report.”  It did no good to argue that there was no way I could have known this limitation in advance.  Or that the knife was always tucked safely in my check-in backpack.  Or that everybody in the world knew these items to be a tool, and not a weapon.

“I am sorry.  We must make a police report.”  They kept the knife.  I do believe I got the last word, however.  As the paperwork was being prepared ever so properly and with a maximum show of proper etiquette, I casually mentioned being a travel writer.

“You know, this incident has left me with a very poor impression of Japan,” I offered.  Too bad, really, given that your government is in the process of begging travel writers at this very moment to say anything good that can possibly be written about Japan, given your recent tsunami and radiation disasters.  Think I’ll have to do additional research on that.  Describing your visitor hostility and lack of common sense will be a thrill.”

And with that several sideways glances ensued, a few bows were made in my direction, and the paperwork was carefully slipped into the trash.  Most problem solving in the long run, usually comes down to managing differences in perspective …

JAPAN –  HIROSHIMA AS THE CONSCIENCE OF THE POST-WAR WORLD?

The bullet train ride from Kyoto to Hiroshima takes only one hour and 37 minutes.  It is an amazing ride, almost numbing in its ease.  I have difficulty upon arrival finding a reasonably priced hotel, but that is an issue related to Freestyle Travel, and not a shortcoming of my perfectly behaved Japanese hosts.  I received help from a complete stranger in exchange for a meal, and thus got my introduction to “Hiroshima pancakes.”

The Okonomi-yaki as they are called, are wonderful creations. They consist of flour batter fried into a thin pancake, and while the crepe is setting up it is laid over with spring onions, stir-fried cabbage, sprouts, squid, shrimp, scallops, buckwheat noodles, and Japanese herbs coated with lobster sauce.  They taste like a crunchy seafood tostada.

I settle in with my happenstance hotel finder over said pancakes, Caesar salad and Kirin beer and discuss Hiroshima’s present day claim as The Peace Capitol of The World.

This advocacy has come about as a result of being the target of the world’s first wartime use of a nuclear weapon when, on August 6^th of 1945, the American B-29 Superfortress Enola Gay dropped a single thermonuclear bomb (called “Little Boy”) which exploded 1800 feet above the city and caused one of the greatest horrors ever experienced in human history.

Over 70,000 people (the majority of them civilians) were killed immediately from the heat and explosive force of the blast.  They may have been the lucky ones.  Over 140,000 total were eventually lost to the effects of the bomb, with many of them lingering miserably before succumbing to burns, radiation sickness, infection, outright wounds, starvation, and drowning.  Yes, drowning …

The ten thousand degree flash heat of the bomb caused unprecedented medical burns.  Some victims were virtually vaporized, and remained only as shadows seared into concrete surfaces following the blast.  Some were turned into charcoal.  Tens of thousands had terrible burns over the majority of their bodies.

Many of them stumbled into local rivers for pain relief, and denuded of strength, could not survive the shock of the water and weakened attempts to extricate themselves from the steep banks.  The cadaver count under bridge abutments was mind boggling in spots.

I take a late night stroll down to the Nakajima District, location of the Aioi-bashi Bridge, a T-shaped target that was used by the crew of the Enola Gay as their “Ground Zero” aiming point in 1945.  The bridge survived.  Everything else for a four kilometer diameter around it did not.

About the only thing remaining to pierce the skyline after the blast was the concrete shell of the nearby Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall – now known simply as The Atomic Dome.  It remains the most famous landmark in Hiroshima (and was selected as a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1996).

At night particularly, this ruin only 160 meters from the hypocenter of the blast stands out in stark relief from its surroundings.  It is a quiet period when there are many fewer visitors.  It becomes easier at such times to hear potential ghosts.  Soft white floodlights illuminate its crumbling high-walled exterior, buoyed by steel reinforcement, yet buckling against time and an unimaginable blast wave long since departed.

It is lit from within by contrasting orange lamps.  One imagines this could be the residue of a deadly blaze which never really burned itself out … or is perhaps a kinder, softer flame that now symbolizes the hope for eternal worldwide peace.

Its signature steel roof girders, in the shape of a dome, are silhouetted against the night sky.  They look like the arched bony fingers of a Terminator robot clawing its way out of the abyss.  Or of a phoenix attempting to flap its way out of the ashes with barely restored wings.  In either case, it sends a message of renewal and rebirth: “Never again.”

Across the Motoyasu-gawa River along a snakelike projection of land leading to the city harbor lies the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.  Its primary features include a Memorial Cenotaph bearing the epitaph “Let all the souls here rest in Peace, for we shall not repeat this evil.”  The arched structure hovers over a bin containing the names of the deceased from the A-bomb.  It is said to act as a shelter for the souls of the victims.

Through the arch it is possible to see the Atomic Dome across the river.  Between the two is aligned a continuously lit Peace Flame, first ignited in 1964 and whose symbolic purpose is to console the souls of the A-bomb victims.  It is to remain lit until all atomic weapons on earth are eradicated.  Nearby are the ten Peace Gates.  The first nine are meant to represent the nine gates of hell.  The tenth is simply entitled “Hiroshima.”  Each of the ten is inscribed with the word “peace” in 49 languages.

Off to the side, is a Memorial Mound, a grass covered circular knoll containing the ashes of 70,000 unidentified victims of the bombing that were collected within a few days of August 6, 1945.  Closer to the Atomic Dome is the Children’s Peace Monument, a statue depicting a girl with outstretched arms and a folded paper crane rising above her.

It reflects the true story of high school junior Sasaki Sadako, who believed if she folded 1000 paper cranes she would recover from her severe radiation burns.  Like so many she did not survive, but thousands of cranes are sent from all over the world or delivered in person daily there in the young lady’s honor.  

Brief mention must also be made of the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum and the Hiroshima National Peace Memorial Hall.  The government built Hall seeks to mourn the victims of the A-bomb, and expresses the desire of the Japanese people to achieve long-lasting peace.

The Museum is the primary attraction of the park, displaying a substantial number of articles surviving the bombing.  Photos and memorabilia are included.  My only critique of this display is that it shows no recognition of a cause-effect relationship between Japan’s brutality as a colonial master and combatant, and the means chosen by the Allies to end in the shortest possible time a war clearly started by Japan.

The most telling monument of the entire park is a pillar on top of a turtle-shaped platform, which is based on the belief that souls of the dead travel to heaven on the back of a turtle. A crown inscribed with a pair of dragons sits on top of the pillar. It was not added to the park until 54 years after the most fateful morning in Japanese history.

The Korean Atom Bomb Victims' Memorial was first erected in Hiroshima on April 10, 1970 by the Hiroshima branch of the Korean Residents Union – at its own expense. It was only in 1999 that the Hiroshima city government finally allowed resident Koreans to relocate the memorial inside the Hiroshima Peace Park. Till then, the memorial had stood across the river at the foot of a bridge on a tiny corner lot.

The annexation of Korea as a Japanese colony in 1910 caused many Koreans to lose their livelihoods, and many of these were forced to come to Japan to find work. In addition, 634,000 Korean men were co-opted as forced laborers or requisitioned workers in order to resolve labor shortages in Japan. Over 10,000 females were also brought in later as “comfort women” (sex slaves) to provide companionship to Japanese troops.

At the end of World War II, there were approximately three million Koreans in Japan, and it is believed that up to 50,000 of them were eventual victims of the atomic bombing in Hiroshima – 20,000 of them as immediate fatalities on the day of the bombing. Afterward, Japanese dead were incinerated, but Koreans were left to rot in the streets.  “We are discriminated against even in death,” complained one Korean forced laborer.

One of the many subjects of resentment between Korea and Japan since has been the deliberate exclusion by Japan from treatment and benefits of the Korean victims, and especially those who chose to return to Korea. On the whole, only Japanese nationals have been qualified to receive full financial and medical support for A-bomb related ills.

Many of those afflicted by radiation sickness managed to return to Korea, but were unable to find work due to their bomb-related disabilities (in South Korea it is generally believed that the atomic bombings brought liberation and independence, so it has been difficult for A-bomb survivors to gain sympathy).  No specialized doctors or hospitals were available for A-bomb-related afflictions. Caught up in a vicious cycle of no cure, no jobs and no money, these Korean A-bomb survivors pitifully remained in financial limbo in their own homeland. 

Until 1990, the speeches of Japanese elites at the annual Peace Memorial Ceremony on August 6th never referred to the 20,000+  assumed Korean A-bomb victims, who comprised between 10-20% of the total population estimated to have been immediately killed by the bombing.  The reasons why are cryptic but easily explained.

In putting such emphasis on the Peace Park and its standing as the only target of a nuclear weapon during wartime, Japan has two objectives: one is to memorialize the victims and educate observers.  The other is to endow itself with renewed moral and diplomatic authority lost as a result of Japan’s aggressive excesses as a colonial power during 15 years of war leading up to 1945.

In positioning itself as a victim (and a unique victim at that), Japan employs a leveling tactic which in essence says: “Don’t look at details of what happened.   Look at the big story.  We are victims too.”  They ignore relativities such as how many more citizens were killed in Allied firebombings of Tokyo and other metropolitan targets than perished at Hiroshima, and Japanese atrocities such as the 1937 Genocide of Chinese at Nanking which alone surpassed the combined total fatalities of both Hiroshima and Nagasaki (which was hit with a second nuclear bomb three days later).

Recognizing Korean victims in the A-bomb attack would disrupt Japanese framing of “The Bomb” as a uniquely Japanese experience in suffering.  It undermines the playbook for sole victim status and forces Japan to examine its historical treatment of Koreans.  It would require explanation of: “And what were all those Koreans doing in Hiroshima (second most important Japanese military base) at the time of the blast anyway?”  Hint: they were not there voluntarily!  It further increases the need for Japan to recognize and apologize for its brutal colonial legacy.

This disingenuous approach to its past in favor of selectively posturing as a “Mecca of World Peace” has already cost Japan a permanent seat on the United Nations Security Council.  As the Chinese representative to the UN was quoted as saying: “A country unable to face up to its aggressive history should not be permitted to sit on a peacekeeping body.”

Let us smoke the woodchuck from the woodpile:  Just how much would Japan and Hiroshima specifically be positioning itself as a bastion of world peace, had it won or experienced stalemate in World War II?  Had Hiroshima not been the first city to experience the horrific effects of a nuclear bomb, would we be hearing the same pious pronouncements each 6^th of August on Japan’s unique responsibility to carve out a growing role for itself as a “Ban the Bomb!” leader and authority for world peace? 

We may never know.  But we may have already seen the answer to that.  Ask the Koreans how fair, caring and pious Japanese leadership is when not under powerful dominion or moral pressure themselves.