Nagasaki

On a whim, my friend Mervyn booked us tickets to Japan. The weather was perfect. There were no earthquakes. We had nothing else planned, for as long as we wouldn't tire ourselves too much. The last thing we wanted was to take a vacation from our vacation by the time we got home.

Nagasaki wasn't in our original plans; to be honest, we didn't have any. We spent a few days in Fukuoka, recommended by our common friend, Roger, who considered it his city -- until he spent an extended time for training in New York. 

Such was the spontaneity of our trip. Tired from clinic work, Mervyn, whom I've known for years -- from medical school, to internal medicine residency, and then to medical oncology fellowship -- craved for new perspectives. I suppose I did, too. A change of scenery was not the answer to our burnout, but it helped. 

We booked Shinkansen tickets from Fukuoka to Nagasaki. I believe our trip was on a Saturday. Balikan lang. I slept while sitting on a bench, lulled by the swooshing of quiet buses and cars. Merv left me to my nap, while he watched the grand finals of Tawag ng Tanghalan on his phone. That morning, we visited the atomic bomb museum. The atmosphere was heavy, but we felt that to properly honor the city we should pay respects to its history. 

"Ang sarap ng tulog mo, brother," Merv said. 

"Oo nga eh. I feel so refreshed. Sino'ng nanalo sa Tawag ng Tanghalan?" I asked. 

Merv must given me an answer, but I no longer remember the details. What I do remember is: we had nothing else to do for the rest of the afternoon, so we walked on, until we found a steep hill we eventually climbed. At the summit was a parking lot that would lead us to a pop-up weekend bazaar in a Shinto shrine. We ate ice cream under the shade. We felt like intruders, but we were welcomed. 

Surpise, surprise: Nagasaki was included in New York Times's annual list of 52 places to visit in 2026.

Unlike Hiroshima, which was almost completely obliterated by an atomic bomb in August 1945, the urban core of Nagasaki, America’s second target, was spared when the bomb missed its mark. This gives the city center a kind of sliding-door surrealness: This was all supposed to be gone, but somehow it survived. 

 You don't really plan for great trips. In a sense, they simply happen.