Rarity: Parcly’s trip from this point will focus on cities over remote areas. The wild countryside, with its high hills and whispering winds, will still feature in her itinerary, but rather less so than the shopping streets I love.
 
Parcly Taxel: I hate shopping the way you do it! I’d rather draw up a list in my mind and tick it off on-site as soon as possible. The wide variety of other items is so confusing as to hurt my eyes!
 
Rarity: Hold your horses, dear. Let me explain a bit of Nagasaki’s history.
 
In a much earlier time, around Mistmane’s, the shogunate effectively ruled all of Japan, with the emperor/empress as only a nominal head. As a protectionist measure against the wealth of other seafaring nations, the sakoku (鎖国) policy was enforced, which restricted foreign trade to a carefully chosen set of ports and prevented general movement of ponies in or out of Japan.
 
Sweetie Belle: And Nagasaki was the designated port for the Chinese and Dutch, the latter of which imparted much scientific knowledge to the Japanese, such that when sakoku ended they were ready to grow into a world power.
 
Parcly: Our room, as it lay on the top floor, had a magnificent view of downtown Nagasaki. Breakfast buffet was served in the basement, with tablecloths and spacious passages to lighten up the occasion – I left one square of my “boxed platter” unoccupied, seeing how I stuffed myself the previous day.
 
Spindle: As spirits of ice and the winter, windigos prefer staying at high altitudes, only swooping down on a hunt for ponies. With my stabiliser Parcly I embarked on just such a hunt here, but for this city’s wonders instead.
 
A shuttle bus took us downwards from the Baishokaku to Nagasaki Station, picking up passengers from affiliated hotels along the way. A sizeable proportion of those passengers were tourists to Japan like us, for said hotels offered much the same amenities as one in, say, Manehattan or Griffonstone.
 
Parcly: Local residents rely on a tram service rather than a subway to get around, given the relatively small population, so we bought a day pass and scurried off to the defining location of Nagasaki – the park and museum built around where the atomic bomb was dropped.
 
Queen Chrysalis: Peace is the overriding theme of both atomic bomb museums, here and at Hiroshima (which Parcly visited two years ago). Entry is through a spiral ramp, “winding the clock back” to the time of the bombing, and then various fragments of objects left after the total devastation are presented. Clocks are stopped at 11:02, the time of the explosion, while photographs taken soon afterwards detail the first responses and long-term effects.
 
It is a misconception that the bomb did all the damage. It immediately released a huge dose of gamma rays, inducing radiation sickness and some deaths; an even larger fire then burned the rest of the city to ashes, aided by a preponderance of wooden buildings.
 
Spindle: The museum was easy to locate, yet Parcly was still unsure of where the hypocentre monument stood, a marker she considered more important. A security guard showed her a bridge leading there, a triangular column alone and centred in a circular terrace. Chrysalis bowed down in front of it as a mark of respect, Parcly did the same and the two embraced in a hoof bump.
 
Parcly: Like Hiroshima, the peace park of Nagasaki stretches for a good distance around the museum, featuring the usual donations and statues and cranes. Once we had finished our tour, we hitched the tram back to Dejima (出島), which in the time of sakoku was an island keeping Dutch traders isolated from mainland Japan (reclaimed land has since encircled it).
 
Spindle: Nopony was lining up at Dejima’s admissions gate, seeing as three factors had aligned: it was winter, it was a Monday and it was drizzling. Cold emptiness permeated the nearby wharf, while a trot down Chinatown looked no brighter despite the nearest tram stop serving as primary interchange of the network.
 
Pinkie Pie: As expected, all the Hearth’s Warming preparations were taking place indoors. Parcly refreshed herself with buns and pastries of varying types in the food court of Nagasaki Station, its atmosphere calm and warm from ponies moving through life slowly…
 
Parcly: My eyes started swirling from the steady motion of heads and the clopping of hooves. I wanted to sleep, but Spindle flash-froze my heart, compelling me to get up and explore the restaurants on a higher floor, then head back out on the trams again.
 
Spindle: My impression of the tram network was that its rolling stock had not been replaced wholesale in a long, long time. When still, a car let external sounds inside, which could be other trams running or traffic lights beeping. As soon as the driver announced he was going to move, the squeal of steel wheel on steel rail and self-sustaining vibrations dominated the noisescape, interrupted by clinking bells and blaring horns.
 
Parcly: We changed trams to wind up at Meganebashi (眼鏡橋), the “spectacles bridge” that only looks like one because of a central pillar. By itself it was only a mild curiosity, but some distance upstream lies a heart-shaped rock in the embankment and more ponies were looking for it, hoping to throw a coin or two and make a wish (as evidenced by the large quantities of coins in surrounding crevices we found). I just moved on, knowing I could grant my own wish at any time as a genie.
 
Rarity: Now is the time those misty sweethearts really went shopping on the Bellenade!
 
Sweetie Belle: Oh, just shut up… they didn’t like it walking past spinning lights and banners. It was just an inconvenience they put up with en route to Shianbashi (思案橋).
 
Parcly: Unlike many other public transport systems, Nagasaki’s tram network charges a flat standard fare (130 yen for adults, 70 for children). When we boarded at Shianbashi, evening rush hour was also revving up; the citizens really love taking the tram for its low cost and honest, no-frills experience. We alighted at Zenzamachi (銭座町) and had a slice of pear cheesecake as “high tea”.
 
Spindle: A small argument broke out between me and Parcly over where to visit next. I fed on her hot-headedness, creating a light snowstorm around the two of us, while darkness swept over the city. In the end we figured we had visited as much as we could, so we took the shuttle bus from Nagasaki Station back to Baishokaku and did some stretching routines. My body, maellable as it is ethereal, elongated and I became an ittan-momen (一反木綿).
 
Parcly: We went downhill to a Sukiya restaurant near Nagasaki University. The vast majority of customers there were students hanging out after lectures, and I loved my hot pot beef bowl like they loved their own orders. Finally I showered in the Baishokaku onsen, looking out on a city that truly rose from the ashes.