Honden

Clutching the worn map of Hiroshima, I traced my finger along Hondori, the bustling main street. It stretches from Hatchobori to the solemn Peace Memorial Park. Hondori, meaning “Main Street,” is more than just a shopping arcade. It’s a phoenix, risen from the ashes. The Honden, the main hall of a shrine, embodies this resilience. Hondori itself was once called Hirataya-cho. In the early 20th century, it flourished. Around 1931, the installation of lily-of-the-valley lanterns allowed shops to stay open late, illuminating the vibrant night life. But this light was extinguished in 1945. The atomic bombing decimated Hondori. The blast and ensuing fire left devastation in its wake. Yet, amidst the ruins, some structures stubbornly clung to existence. The reinforced concrete of the Shimomura Jewelers, with its iconic clock tower, was severely damaged, its walls tilting precariously. The Teikoku Bank building, erected in 1925, also partially survived, though its roof collapsed and walls crumbled. These skeletal remains stood as grim reminders of what was lost. But they also became symbols of hope. In the 1950s, Hondori began its remarkable rebirth. The shopping arcade we see today is a testament to the city’s indomitable spirit. Hondori now serves as a vital link between the Peace Memorial Park and the bustling commercial center of Parco department store and Hatchobori. The Honden, though not specifically mentioned in the aftermath accounts, is undoubtedly part of this resurgence. It stands as a quiet testament to the enduring power of faith and the human capacity for renewal. Hondori pulsates with life again. Streetcars clatter along the tracks, stopping at Hiroden Hondori Station. The Astram Line also connects here, its terminus a testament to the city’s modern revival. From the ashes of destruction, Hondori has blossomed anew, its vibrant present a tribute to the resilience of the past.