Hiroshima and
Nagasaki Itinerary

Before 1945, the two cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki had very little in common. Hiroshima was a bustling, rapidly modernizing city, spurred by its militarist importance following the first Sino-Japanese war in 1894. Meanwhile, Nagasaki, after over 200 years of operating as Japan’s only connection to the western world during the Edo period, enjoyed a rich mix of cultural exchange. The two cities differ greatly geographically as well, with the flat river plane of Hiroshima contrasting sharply with the mountainous hills of Nagasaki. If not for the events of World War Two, there would be little reason to group these two cities together.

However, that all changed when the Americans chose their strategic targets in 1945. Both cities, regardless of their previous differences, were destroyed in the same devastating way, an act that has forever connected Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

 From the ashes of the atomic attacks, both cities have returned, and even flourished, due to the love and determination of the surviving residents and their descendants. It’s hard to believe today, in the 21st century, these thriving cities were once the victims of the most powerful bombs the world has ever seen. While visiting both Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it’s important to remember the trails of the past while celebrating the vibrancy of the present.

Thanks to its Shinkansen (bullet train) station, Hiroshima is easily accessible from all of the major international airports in Japan. The station itself is modern and convenient, and easy to navigate. If you’re traveling with more than light luggage, you can utilize a delivery service to have your luggage sent ahead to your hotel, freeing up your day for unencumbered exploration.

First things first, after a long trip on the train I was ready to eat! The most recognizable food in Hiroshima is their style of okonomiyaki. While okonomiyaki is often associated with Osaka, Hiroshima style sets itself apart with the addition of fried noodles to the classic, savory batter.

I visited Hiroshima Okonomiyaki Monogatari Ekimae Hiroba, an okonomiyaki theme park located a three minute walk from Hiroshima Station South exit. Lined up one after another, you’ll find more than a dozen okonomiyaki shops to choose from. The staff were incredibly warm and welcoming—such a refreshing change from the typically polite but distant service I often experience in Tokyo. At the place we chose, my okonomiyaki was cooked right before my eyes on a sizzling grill and served fresh off the heat, topped with a perfectly fried egg. The generous layers of cabbage, noodles and meat created a mountain of savory flavors that was both tasty and super filling.

Since I’d sent my luggage to the hotel from the station, I was free to head straight to the Hiroshima Memorial Park.

Visiting this place is deeply moving. It’s hard to believe that this quiet, green space was once Hiroshima’s bustling red-light and entertainment district, until everything changed in an instant.

Walking there feels like walking on bones, the memory of the tragedy is embedded in the earth itself. It felt rather eerie, despite the sunlight bathing the white, open grounds. The landscaping is calm and serene, but there’s an unmistakable, lingering heaviness in the air. I felt both sadness and a strange pull toward this space.

I felt especially moved by the statue of the young girl holding a crane. She’s inspired by Sadako Sasaki and the thousand cranes she folded in hope.

Sadako was just two years old when the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. Although she wasn’t injured in the initial blast, she developed leukemia in seventh grade due to radiation exposure from the bomb. After hearing about the story of the 1000 paper cranes from a friend, she spent her final days in the hospital folding cranes. According to the legend, if a sick persons folds 1000 paper cranes, they will recover. By the time she passed, she’d folded well over a thousand cranes. To honor her memory, her classmates and others touched by her story raised money to commission a sculpture, as a gesture of remembrance passed from one generation to the next.

If you’re interested in learning more about the history and meaning behind these places, you can also join the free guided tour offered by the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum.

I didn’t take any photos inside the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum (official site). It didn’t feel right. Some places ask for silence, and this is one of them. The exhibits were emotionally overwhelming, letters from children, burnt school uniforms, blackened lunch boxes.

Still, I’m grateful I went. As difficult as it was to walk through, I believe everyone should visit at least once in their life.

One of the most meaningful parts of my visit was attending the Hibaku (survivors of the atomic bombings) Experience Lecture. It’s held in the special exhibition room on the basement floor of the East Building, and I was surprised to learn that it’s free and doesn’t require a reservation. They even offer an English session once a day, so make sure to check the schedule before walking through the exhibit.

During this 45-minute session, survivors of the atomic bombing, or their family members, share firsthand stories: what life was like before the bomb, what happened on that day, and how they’ve continued living ever since. What shocked me most was how many survivors spoke about carrying deep guilt simply for surviving, while their friends, classmates, and families were gone in an instant. First hand accounts of history give a unique insight that can’t be replicated even with the best exhibits, so I encourage everyone to join.

Orizuru Tower, while providing a great view of the city, also has a symbolic power. It’s named after the paper crane (orizuru), a symbol of peace. From up there, you can look out at the city while folding a crane to add to the tower’s glass wall, a gesture that feels both personal and collective.

What struck me most wasn’t just what I saw, but what I knew: that this peaceful, green city was once a burned ruin. Seeing it from above, it’s hard to imagine the devastation. But maybe that’s the point: to witness how far Hiroshima has come, and how a city can rise again.

After my short trip to Miyajima, I went to my accommodation for the evening: RIHGA Royal Hotel Hiroshima. Since it’s close to the Peace Park, it’s a great location for exploring the city. The view from this hotel is incredible- you can enjoy taking in the city from the bar/lobby (which is free, unlike the observation deck in Orizuru Tower), and the rooms have great views as well.

Since I’d sent my luggage to the hotel from the station, I was free to head straight to one of the most iconic parts of the prefecture. Miyajima, the beautiful town located on Isukishima, an island just off the coast of Hiroshima City. To get there, take the San-yo line train from Hiroshima station to Miyajimaguchi station. From Miyajimaguchi, it’s about a five minute walk to the JR Ferry port. The ferry schedule changes depending on the day, but they run frequently, and the ferry ride itself is only 10 minutes. Make sure to check when the ferries stop running in the evening, so you don’t accidentally get stuck!

Getting off the ferry and landing in Miyajima is like taking a trip to another world- the smell of the ocean and the greetings of the local deer that rule the town make it feel like you are stepping back in time. While Miyajima was also affected by the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, it escaped most of the damage, so many of the buildings in this town are older than you’ll find on the mainland.

It was crowded as I walked down the harbor to see the iconic floating torii gate of Isukushima Shrine. While beautiful, I felt antsy to get away from the crowds and find someplace a little quieter.

I wandered up the hills of the island to Daisho-in one of the most important temples in Miyajima, with a history dating back to 806 AD when it was founded by the monk Kukai (Kobo Daishi), the founder of Shingon Buddhism in Japan. The atmosphere changed completely, and I was greeted by the silence of this zen temple.

At first, I was surprised by the sheer number of small stone figures—hundreds of them scattered throughout the temple paths. These are Jizo statues, guardians of children and travelers, each with a different expression, posture, or offering. Some wore knitted hats or bibs left by visitors, adding a personal, almost playful warmth to the serene surroundings.

I only visited Miyajima for a short time, but you can easily spend a whole day exploring this town. There are also hotels and other accommodations on the island should you wish to spend a longer visit.

For more places to visit in this area, check out my other recommended places in Hiroshima.

While there isn’t a direct train to Nagasaki from Hiroshima, the journey to Kyushu is picturesque. The change in scenery you’ll observe on your journey to Nagasaki really highlights the contrast between the two cities.

From Hiroshima station, hop onto the Sanyo Shinkasen to Shin-Tosu station. At Shin-Tosu station, take the limited express train to Takeo-Onsen station. From Takeo-Onesen station, you can board the Nishi-Kyushu Shinkansen to Nagasaki station. While there are a few transfers, the whole trip only takes less than 3 hours.

Arriving in Nagasaki, you’ll notice how the topography differs from Hiroshima. Because of the protection of so many mountains, unlike Hiroshima some parts of Nagasaki were protected from the 1945 bomb. Thankfully, this means some original buildings from before the war survived and can still be seen today.

As mentioned before, Nagasaki was Japan’s connection to the outside world during the isolationist Edo period. After the country reopened in the Meiji era, Nagasaki was an even more bustling hub of international exchange, which can be seen in the area’s architecture and food culture.

I joined a Peace Park Tour which helped contextualize the memorials located around the park. The tour was very moving, and I prayed that the use of nuclear bombs will never be used again.

At the heart of Nagasaki Peace Park stands the massive Peace Statue. The iconic statute is of a man seated, one hand raised to the sky, the other extended in peace. His closed eyes look like they’re holding both prayer and pain. Nearby, the Fountain of Peace quietly flows, built for the victims who died crying out for water. I stood there for a while, reading the final words of a young girl etched on the stone. Around the park are statues from around the world, gifts from other countries as symbols of peace. It was a reminder that this hope isn’t just for Japan, it belongs to all of us.

By coincidence, or perhaps fate, I visited Nagasaki on the 9th of the month. Every month on this day, survivors and their families gather at Peace Park to ring the memorial bell and remember what happened. That morning, I stood quietly among them, listening as the bell echoed across the hillside.

I even met Dr. Tomonaga Masao, a hibakusha and doctor who has dedicated his life to nuclear disarmament. He witnessed the event first hand, and has studied the long term medical affects of the atomic bomb. Just hearing him speak, standing in the same city where he once saw the sky burn, was a moment I’ll never forget.

I left that conversation deeply moved—his words lingered with me as I continued walking through the city. One of the places I stumbled on was Suwa Shrine. Perched high on a hill and reached by a long stone staircase, Suwa Shrine offers a peaceful view over Nagasaki.

Thanks to the surrounding mountains, the shrine was protected from the atomic blast and remained largely intact. Climbing the 277 stone steps to Suwa Shrine is a quiet journey in itself, but once you reach the top, you’re rewarded with a great view. From this vantage point, you can look over Nagasaki’s hills, layered rooftops, and the shimmering curve of the harbor. You can see how the city is cradled by mountains; ones that once shielded parts of it from the worst of the atomic blast in 1945. Suwa Shrine itself was protected by Mount Tamazono and escaped major damage, unlike the rest of the city center.

Just by chance, I was also able to receive the JR Kyushu collaboration goshuin (御朱印) — a special seal stamp offered only between June 13 and October 30, 2025. It’s good to keep an eye out for limited time events.

Not far away, at Sanno Shrine, the story was different. The atomic bomb struck just 800 meters away, and the grounds were devastated. But one torii gate, now known as the One-Legged Torii, miraculously remained standing on a single pillar. The other half was blown away by the blast. It leans slightly now, like it’s bowing under the weight of history. Behind it, two camphor trees that were scorched and split by the heat somehow survived and are still growing today.

After visiting Suwa Shrine, the contrast was overwhelming. The contrast between the two shrines made the reality of the bombing more tangible. History wasn’t something in a museum—it was right there, in stone and bark.

If you need a break from the emotional weight of history, Nagasaki also offers comfort in quieter, more everyday moments—like sitting down for a warm meal. One of the city’s most iconic dishes is champon, a hearty noodle bowl with roots in the Chinese immigrant community. It was first created in 1899 by Chin Heijun, a chef who wanted to provide an affordable, filling meal for Chinese exchange students. His creation—stir-fried vegetables and noodles in a thick, savory broth—soon became a local favorite.

Champon is so iconic here, they even sell champon-flavored candy drops. Don’t ask me what they taste like—I've never had the guts to try one! Maybe you’ll be braver than me…

If you’re vegan or just looking for a lighter option, here’s a tip: Nagasaki’s famous noodle dishes, Champon and Sara Udon, are now available in fully vegan versions for the first time ever. You can try them at Pavé, the stylish restaurant inside ANA Crowne Plaza Hotel Nagasaki Gloverhill. It’s a delicious way to enjoy a local specialty—no meat or seafood needed.

The cultural exchange didn’t stop with savories. Castella, a cake originally from Portugal, was brought to Japan by Portuguese missionaries as gifts. The cake, known as Pão de Lo in Portugal, was introduced to the Japanese as “Pão de Castela” or “bread from Castela”. The name stuck and castella cake became another quintessential food of Nagasaki. Even today, castella is a popular sweet to serve to guests.

Nagasaki is full of layers: its international port history, quiet hillside shrines, atomic memory, and more. I haven’t even started on its deep connection to Christianity, which would take a whole other article to explore.

If you’re looking to experience the city on a deeper level, here are a few hands-on activities that stayed with me:

When we ran to fly them, mine lifted slowly, wobbled a bit, and then finally caught the wind.

Later, I found out that kite flying here isn’t just a children’s pastime—every spring and autumn, adults gather in the hills to fly hata and engage in aerial "kite battles." They even coat their strings with powdered glass (vidoroyoma) to try and cut each other’s threads mid-air. It’s surprisingly intense… and so much fun.

Despite their differences in geography, atmosphere, and history, Hiroshima and Nagasaki are forever connected by the weight of what happened in August 1945.

One became the site of the world’s first atomic bombing, and the other, just three days later, became the last. The people in both cities live not only with memory, but with responsibility.

They’ve rebuilt their homes, reopened their hearts, and remembered the past. Not to dwell in sorrow, but to make sure it never happens again.

There’s a phrase I heard in Nagasaki that has stayed with me: