Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park

Listen for a moment. Gravel crunches under passing feet. Somewhere a school group is singing softly, and the wind moves through the trees along the river. Small bells hang from the memorials, and the paper cranes rustle in their glass cases. For a park in the middle of a modern city, it is surprisingly quiet. People here tend to lower their voices without being asked.

You are standing on a narrow strip of land between two rivers, the Motoyasu and the Ota. Today it is lawns, paths and memorials. Before 1945, this was the Nakajima district. It was a crowded commercial neighbourhood, full of shops, homes, temples, cinemas and narrow streets. Families lived above their businesses. Children played by the water. Almost nothing of that neighbourhood remains, and that loss is the reason this park exists.

At 8:15 in the morning on 6 August 1945, an American bomber dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima. It was the first nuclear weapon ever used against a city. The bomb exploded in the air, several hundred metres above the ground, very close to where you are now. The heat and the blast destroyed most of the city centre within seconds. Fires followed. Tens of thousands of people died that day, and many more died in the months and years afterwards from injuries and radiation.

Look across the river to the north. You will see a ruined building with a bare steel frame where its dome once was. This is the Atomic Bomb Dome. It was built as the Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall and completed in 1915. A Czech architect, Jan Letzel, designed it in a European style that stood out among the wooden houses of the time. The building was used to exhibit and promote local products.

Here is something many visitors do not realise. The dome survived partly because the blast came from almost directly above. The force pushed down on the walls instead of sideways, so some of the structure stayed standing. Everyone inside the building died. After the war, people argued about the ruin. Some wanted it removed, because it was too painful to see. Others wanted to keep it as a warning. In the end, the city decided to preserve it. In 1996, UNESCO listed it as a World Heritage Site.

After the war, Hiroshima was rebuilt as a city dedicated to peace. A special law in 1949 gave this direction official support. The park itself was designed by the Japanese architect Kenzo Tange, who later became one of the most influential architects of his generation. His plan is simple and very deliberate. He placed the main buildings and memorials along a single straight line, running from the museum, through the cenotaph, to the dome.

Walk towards the centre of the park and you will find that line for yourself. The Memorial Cenotaph is a low, curved arch of concrete. Its shape follows the clay house models found in ancient Japanese tombs. Stand in front of it and look through the arch. The Peace Flame appears in the middle, and beyond it, framed perfectly, stands the ruined dome. It is one of the most quiet and powerful views in the city.

Under the arch is a stone chest. It holds a register with the names of people who died because of the bombing. Names are still added each year, as survivors pass away. The inscription on the cenotaph is often translated as: let all the souls here rest in peace, for we shall not repeat the evil. The sentence does not say who made the mistake. People still discuss that choice, and many feel the words speak to all of humanity.

The Peace Flame burns in a pool just north of the cenotaph. It was lit in 1964. The plan is that it will keep burning until every nuclear weapon on Earth has been destroyed. Look at the base around the flame. Its shape suggests two hands, with the wrists together and the palms open to the sky. Many visitors stop here longer than they expect.

Not far away is the Children's Peace Monument. At the top, a bronze figure of a girl holds up a large crane. This memorial is linked to Sadako Sasaki. She was two years old when the bomb fell. Ten years later, she developed leukaemia and died in 1955. During her illness she folded paper cranes, following a Japanese belief that folding a thousand cranes can bring a wish to life. Today, schoolchildren from Japan and abroad send millions of paper cranes here every year.

As you walk, you will notice smaller memorials among the trees. There is the Peace Bell, which visitors are welcome to ring. There is a grassy mound that holds the ashes of many victims who were never identified. There is a memorial to Korean victims, many of whom had been brought to Japan as workers during the war. Each stone tells a different part of the same story. Some trees in the city also survived the bombing, and local people care for them as living witnesses.

At the southern end of the park stands the Peace Memorial Museum. It is long and raised on concrete pillars, so you can walk underneath it. Inside, the exhibits are direct and personal. You will see torn school uniforms, a melted lunch box, and stories from survivors. Many visitors find it very difficult. It is worth giving yourself time afterwards to sit in the park and rest before moving on.

Every year on 6 August, the city holds a Peace Memorial Ceremony here. A bell rings at 8:15, and the whole city pauses for a moment of silence. That evening, people float paper lanterns on the river beside the dome. Each lantern carries a message for someone who was lost. The small lights drift slowly downstream in the dark water.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment. Look at the river, the green lawns, and the cyclists crossing the bridges. A busy city lives all around you again. The ruined dome stands only a few minutes' walk from the shopping streets. As you walk on, notice how close the ordinary life of the city is to this place of memory. Hiroshima has chosen to keep both of them side by side.