excitement in Osaka

During a secret outing today while I shirked my Chaperoning duties I ventured into Osaka from the Suburbs where our Choir rehearsals have been taking place. I was in search of the Osaka Peace Museum, which ironically chronicles war, WWII in particular. Although I had forgotten what it was like to be alone in a foreign country without any understanding of the language I went out armed with a map and determination if not stubbornness. I was also willing to never reach my destination, because all the while I would still be in Japan. Needless to say I got lost and frustrated, all my own doing... but somehow I did manage to reach the initial desired destination.
In the mid afternoon I ascended the stairs of the Osaka metro, up three levels and into the cold. Even the light, fall and dim, was cold. Out onto a nearly abandoned sidewalk along the South end of Osaka Castle Park. I walked, as the sign instructed two minutes West and without noticing I came upon the Peace Museum. I paid the 250 Yen admission fee, got my ticket from the vending machine (everything can be acquired from a vending machine here in Japan) and proceeded into the exhibit. I was the only person in the entire museum save the staff which consisted of the guard at the door, the two women at the counter and the man polishing the floor in the hallway. It was a startling experience to be the sole visitor. But the very first placard gave me viable evidence as to why:
It is the responsibility of the Japanese people to know and admit to their role in the atrocities of the second world war and to be leaders in the struggle for world peace.

it said something like this, but a bit more eloquent. This is the only time and place I have seen in writing or otherwise any form of admission or acknowledgment of the crimes of the Japanese during WWII>. And this is perhaps a reason Japanese citizens are not pouring in. However, I enjoyed the solitary space to experience the exhibits. It was not until the second exhibit that I was even mildly stirred. I am a teacher and student of History, this part in particular, so I have heard a lot before. However, the power of this place... the images, the simple statements translated from Japanese as the captions of the photographs and the video time lines brought me to a point of tears and held me there for nearly an hour and a half.

the third exhibit was a more modern history and was an array of issues today. Child soldiers in Africa, tactics used in the Arab-Israeli conflict and others. it was more than i could integrate... for I knew any moment there would be a time when I would again walk out into the cold air of the park, make my way down the naked street and into the bustling subway where young and old Japanese, fashion misfits and prim school girls rushed from one task to another, from one shop to the next. The dichotomy of experiences was traumatic. And to return to the school to hear the sweet choral voices... I needed another day to simply absorb that emotion... that rush and that ache ...

other adventures too, yet not appropriate to combine them. More postings to follow... eventually, if we survive another day.