We moved away from Tokyo to 300 kilometers per hour and we arrived in Hiroshima after a couple of train changes. Yeray, Pablo and I had to get used to the landings that meant moving the camera crew. On this occasion Nacho Melero accompanied us, that had arrived in Tokyo from Spain to share our first steps, load what was needed and contribute a healthy point of enthusiasm in every corner. Nacho was from the beginning one of the people who believed in this trip. It is one of those types that make the problems of others and that infect the rest the illusions themselves.
With Nacho, as, had to move from station in station, Three camera suitcases with computers and objectives, Two tripods, THE ACCESSORIES Briefcase, a slider, A huge box with the multicopter, Three bags with clothes for each year and handpacked backpacks. That in addition to the camera and personal luggage of Nacho. More than a trip, It seemed a move.
More than a trip, It seemed a move.
We take a ferry and stay in a little hotel in Mikayima. We were on a tiny island south of Honshu, The main island of Japan. It began to rain but neither the water turned off the stamp of a monument that challenges the tides. The Mijayima Puert, depending on the time of day. His profile rules the beach in front of a temple that cannot compete with that camphor wood door built more than a century ago, so solemn that it perished that only through it can you enter Japan.
We take advantage of the time of the rising sun, When tourists continued snoring and monks began their prayers, To record Mikayima. We premiere the multicopter, A drone with a video camera capable of offering unpublished air walks for our eyes. The water covered the base of the door and we entered through it in a flush flight at dawn. We could go.
A back ferry, A train and a stubborn taxi driver about luggage placed us in Hiroshima. From the first park to the last pedestrian streets, The city seemed like a limbo. Not, It was not real, It couldn't be that women were bicycle shopping, that the terraces were full of couples drinking vanilla ice cream, that young people return the greeting with a smiling expression and that the sky was so blue. Not in the place where the human being lived the most frightening moment in its history, Atomic horror. A deaf flash in heaven, a sudden realizing that everything and one hundred sixty thousand lives razed by the expansive wave ended. The morning of 6 August 1945. Hiroshima disappeared and the world lowered his head of fear.
The water covered the base of the door and we entered through it in a flush flight at dawn.
Three buildings survived the debris plain survived: The Central Bank, The pavilion of commercial exhibitions of the Prefecture of Hiroshima and a Kimonos factory ... ah, and a poor tree. Tens of thousands of people later succumbed to radiation, to burns or the penalty of not having died. But Hiroshima was still Japan and in Japan the future is built among all, even mixing crying and ashes.
At least I thought about the group of schoolchildren visited by the monolith where the story was supposed to exploded, a 200 meters. We saw whole processions of children with uniform who left the classroom to meet the recent past, The one of his great -grandparents, alive or dead.
Next to the non -dome dome of the commercial exhibition pavilion, The most famous barbarism skeleton, A Children's Choir sang to La Paz. The scene shook me. The schoolboys looked straight ahead and without any fear of the rickety house, But in reality, more than the past, They faced the future. A teenage girl played with great ability a piano who was rescued from the city's shatters. The old piano sounded without sorrow, With the dignity of a survivor who has recovered his voice.
The old piano sounded without sorrow, With the dignity of a survivor.
In the Museo Memorial de la Paz, We were waiting for a girl named Kahori. He bowed his head as greeting and spoke to us with the eloquence of which he does not need to raise his voice. His grandfather - according to us- survived the explosion, But a tumor appeared shortly after and died after a few months.
We toured with it a museum that portrays extreme ugliness. Shred clothes, twisted crystals, MACABRAS DISASTER PHOTOS, Models of a dismembered city ... I felt that those walls housed the Averno.
But Kahori explained that this museum does not exist to condemn the war but to remember the importance of peace. While the phrase may seem like a somewhat sweetened argument for our cameras, the truth is that we do not feel in the whole city or a single grudge. American and Japanese flags wave together on the streets and in each song, and even in the sound of the bells with which he prays for those who died there, There is more reconciliation than suspicious.
We toured with it a museum that portrays extreme ugliness.
The mayor of Hiroshima, KAZUMI MATSUI, It has become a perfect ambassador to remember the presidents of the great powers to look at their city when they decide. A letter to Obama that is exhibited in the Memorial Museum shows the condition of universal consciousness adopted by the Japanese mayor.
I ended up to a certainty: Hiroshima is peace. It would be said that they have reinvented that word, that they have embodied her. It is not an intention worn by time, No here. Here peace is an unequivocal way of remembering that never again, that there are unrepeatable nightmares, that the world must learn from an old piano that sounds stronger than the very atomic bomb.
