Hiroshima was not what I expected. I don’t know what I thought I’d find there, but I suppose I thought there would be more physical evidence of the devastation of the A-bomb, even though it was half a century ago, outside of the scope of my lifetime. Instead, the town was a bustling metropolis of tall buildings, streets in good repair and people bustling to and fro, going about their daily lives.
Locals were proudly cheering on their local baseball team – the Hiroshima Carp – who are featured on the city’s sewer grates (imagine if Toronto’s sewer grates had the Maple Leafs or Raptors logos on them?!?!) even though the team lost to the Osaka Tigers yesterday in what looked to me to be a big game. There were a large number of signs and t-shirts saying “Let Peace Prevail On Earth”, indicating the city’s vigorously anti-nuclear stance, but other than that it could have been any other medium-sized Japanese city.
I did very little exploration in the town, just walked and walked, from my (excellent) room at Hana Hostel near the train station, across the river, into the downtown and then out the other side and into the Peace Park, where I cried at the sight of the Atomic Dome and the Children’s Memorial and the thousands and thousands of paper cranes. I was quite surprised at how tall the trees across from the Peace Park were; they looked more than 50 years old and healthy, but perhaps being at the epicenter of the blast meant they were spared incineration, like the dome.
On a lighter note, I also sampled the local cuisine. On my way back from the emotional excesses of the Peace Park and memorials, I avoided the drinking quarter, amusingly marked on the map as being “A bit of a dodgy area“, and paused at a store simply named Okonomi Yaki, after the food it serves (like naming a pancake shop “Pancakes”) and went inside for supper.
I was given a selection of crazy filling options for my Japanese pancake, but chose the simplest one to see what the dish was like in its basic form. My Hiroshima okonomiyaki had a crepe-thin tortilla-esque base made of flour, then a filling of shredded cabbage, fatty bacon and skinny soba noodles (making it a “modern” yaki), then a fried egg as the topping. I passed on the local fillings which included octopus, squid and shrimp.
You can watch the video of it being grilled below. My favourite thing was watching the whole process happen right in front of me, with scientific precision, and eating it straight off the grill using a combination of a metal spatula and hachi (chopsticks). My least favourite thing was the brown sauce on top; it had an odd, sour-sweet flavour that my palate just couldn’t warm to. With a tad more tang it would have been HP Fruity sauce and the dish would have been yumtastic, but it was way too sugary for my taste buds.
No way can I list all of the dozens of vending machine drinks I’ve had over the past 5 days, so I’ll just mention a few notable Potent Potables:
1. Aquarius Sports Drink (Coca-Cola product): Kind of like Pocari Sweat, but in a different PET bottle and with an odd, chemical aftertaste. Meh. Not recommended.
2. Asahi Ginger Draft: Beer, but with a slight gingery aftertaste. Weird. I no likey. Not recommended.
3. Kirin Fire Menthol coffee: Coffee, but with a slight minty aftertaste. Weird, but not in a gross way. Kind of tasty, actually. Recommended.
4. Minute Maid Morning Orange: Much like its sister beverage, the hated and loathed Morning Banana, this had an acceptable orange-y flavour, but all the texture and mouth-feel of vomit. Not recommended.
5. UCC Deep Master coffee: 50% something! Much darker and less sugary than most vending-machine coffee, it has a kick like a mule, but isn’t bitter. Quite nice, considering it comes from a can. Recommended.
6. Suntory Gokuri Peach: Black label, dripping peach, little heart after the logo. Sugary, but fruity. I like. Recommended.
7. Yakult: In tiny bottles or huge bottles, it’s all good. Milky-looking but lastes kind of tangy and lemony. Really unique and addictive flavour. I love it. Recommended.
Japan, like Canada, has both fresh produce at outdoor markets and packaged stuff at indoor supermarkets.
While in Kanazawa, I visted the Ōmichō-ichiba, which (for my Toronto audience) was like their local Kensington Market, except all inside a covered arcade and selling way more seafood.
I also visited the huge supermarket in the underground mall directly below Hiroshima train station, and did some field research there, to see what was different from our supermarkets at home. Sadly, my geeky internal monologue kept interfering with my scientific examination of the evidence at both markets. Here are my findings…
Also, childishly, every bucket of fish heads I see makes me hear that 1980s Dr. Demento song. You know the one I mean… “Fish heads, fish heads, rolly polly fish heads; Fish heads, fish heads, eat them up – Yumm! In the morning, laughing happy fish heads; In the evening, floating in the soup… I took a fish head out to see a movie, Didn’t have to pay to get it in… They can’t play baseball, they don’t wear sweaters; They’re not good dancers, they don’t play drums… Rolly Polly fish heads are never seen drinking cappuccino in Italian restaurants with Oriental women. Fish heads, fish heads, rolly polly fish heads; Fish heads, fish heads, eat them up – Yummmm!”
I digress.
My philosophy for eating unfamiliar, unlabeled or unappetizing-looking things on this trip has been “what’s the worst that can happen?” With the exception of fugu, generally speaking the worst that could happen is a few unpleasant hours spent in a bathroom or experiencing weird-smelling, strangely-coloured pee, but so far this trip *knock on wood* not even those unfortunate fates have befallen me.
I must admit, however, there are limits to my culinary sense of adventure. In the realm of meat, I’ve drawn the line at eating horse, and I still kind of gag at the thought of eating something while it is still alive and kicking. But I had to overcome this last cultural reservation when visiting Ōmichō-ichiba.
A very nice fishmonger saw me photographing his wares, and kindly offered me some VERY fresh baby tako. So fresh, it was still sort of writhing weakly. I gulped, but not wanting to seem rude, said “domo arigato!” and took a bite. I steeled myself to the task by thinking that I was saving the world from a potential future cthulhu, scourge of the seas and demon of the deep.
To rinse my brain from that experience, I stopped at a local sushi shop for some sashimi and to try a famous local dish called jibuni, made from boiled and seasoned duck and various vegetables. I am disappointed to report that I think the sushi chef gave me the crappiest cuts of fish because I was an obvious foreigner, as the sashimi wasn’t as fresh and luscious as I was expecting, given the proximity of the market. The duck was also mediocre; overcooked and mostly fat, very little dark juicy meat.
Supermarket: Hiroshima
I found the supermarket interesting, but a tad overwhelming. I think I finally cracked when I saw the green tea and white chocolate bagels. I mean, they were GREEN. I wanted to write Japan a concerned letter:
Dear Japan,
Re: Green Bagels – UR DOIN’ IT WRONG.
Sincerely,
M.
Here is a list of some things I saw in the Hiroshima supermarket that made me go “hmm”:
* Asahi “Style-Free” beer (totally without style!)
* Brown paper packages, tied up with string
* Asahi “Off” beer (it’s just… off. Eww)
* Green tea and chocolate bagels (as mentioned, terrible)
* Weird tomato jelly dessert balls, shaped like tomatoes (I know tomato is technically a fruit, but still…)
* Tomato liqueur (when did tomato become a flavour for booze??)
* Clear jelly in a box (“Honey, don’t forget to pick up clear jelly at the supermarket!”)
* Seedless raisin clusters *still on the vine* (they look mummified, it’s creepy)
* Creepy cow cream in a tube (probably just condensed milk, but the packaging is nightmarish)
* Bananas in clear plastic bags (why would you re-package bananas? Srsly?!)
* Kiwi Pocky (bought some to bring home; first time I’ve ever seen this flavour)
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