Nagasaki (長崎)

As far as cities go, Nagasaki remains something of a wonderful anomaly to me. Like a Rubik's Cube, I find that the more I fiddle with the distinct elements that define the location, the more they intermix.

Nagasaki is a city defined by multiculturalism - by religious tolerance and intolerance - by extreme tragedy - by peace. Keeping with the Rubik's Cube metaphor, try as I might, I cannot label the place with the "all red side" of tragedy, or the "all yellow side" of religion, or the "all blue side" of peace. Indeed, all these elements mix together and inform each other. Perhaps this is what made the city such an interesting and special place to visit.

Nagasaki was opened as a Portuguese trading post in 1571 and soon became the center for Christian missionary activities in Japan. In 1641, the adoption of a national ban on Christianity and the expulsion of the Portuguese changed the landscape of the city. The Dutch trading port and local Chinese settlement became Japan's only points of contact with the outside world.

Today, these different world cultures define and permeate many important sites around the city, all of which are now conveniently labeled as tourist attractions. Tourist sites include a Ming style temple built in 1629, traditional Dutch residences, a church built by French missionaries, and a proud (if not somewhat dilapidated) Chinatown.

The cuisine of Nagasaki takes cues from many world cultures as well. The local noodle dish "Champon" blends a mishmash of traditional Chinese and Japanese ingredients together in a milky broth. Also, one is hard pressed to escape sweet shops selling "castilla" or pound cake, which was introduced by the Portuguese in the 16th century. The less said about the bulbous eyed anthropomorphic pound cake-man character available on key chains and cell phone straps the better.

The issue of religion, spirituality, and ritual practice in modern Japan is a complicated and interesting one. So, please excuse me while I sneak out of the room in order to avoid writing anything more on the subject. If you are interested, a simple Google search will yield the results from many annual surveys that poll the Japanese public about their religious beliefs (or lack thereof).

To put it simply, as far as the Western religions of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam are concerned, there are very few practicing Japanese. I believe a recent Gallup Poll (2006), found that less than 06% of Japanese identified themselves as Christians.

That being said, Nagasaki was the most religious place I had ever visited in Japan, and I don't mean this purely because there was a church on every corner. For the first time in Japan, I was approached by missionaries. Twice to be exact.

The first group was a tag-team Christian duo featuring one American male and one Japanese male. As expected, the American opened up his bible and began to tell me about Jesus. My initial plan was to speak to him only in Japanese, but I soon realized this tact wouldn't work thanks to his annoying partner.

Whenever I'm approached by someone on the street, I always do my best to keep walking with purpose, even if I have nowhere to go. This way the missionary, Greenpeace volunteer, or particularly persistent Kleenex packet distributor is forced to walk in stride with me. They must keep up or give up. If you stop moving to address the person, you immediately open yourself up for a prolonged chat on the street corner.

Unfortunately, my second "ambush from above" occurred on the streetcar, so I had nowhere to flee. I was happily zoning out when two mildly attractive early thirty-something Japanese women inched closer to my train seat cushion, tapped me on the shoulder, and set a book in my lap.

My first thought was that they were deaf and that I was being asked to receive a decorative pen or pack of stickers for a small donation. Actually, they turned out to be Jehovah's Witnesses. I wish they had been deaf - it would have been easier to pony up the 400 Yen necessary for the sticker pack.

The first woman's warm, wide eyes and energetic pointing signaled that I was supposed to read what was written on the page in front of me. I don't remember much of what it said. I only remember that when I got to the phrase, "We may not speak the same language, but we...," I couldn't help but turn to them and say in my most energetic Japanese, "but we DO speak the same language!"

This action served to both frighten and intrigue the two women. It had the additional benefit of derailing their conversion car, as they subsequently became more interested in asking me why I spoke Japanese and what I was doing in Nagasaki.

I thanked them for speaking with me, but said that I already had a religion. Since it was Hanukkah at the time, I took the opportunity to ask the pair if they knew anything about the festival of lights. The resulting "doe in the headlights" eyes coupled with gaping mouths gave me my answer. I spent the remainder of my streetcar ride lecturing about Hanukkah to a pair of Japanese Jehovah's Witnesses. Did I mention it was Christmas Eve?

To me, this experience was Nagasaki in a nutshell.

B.E.W.