Nagasaki

Nagasaki occupies a narrow harbour with hills rising steeply on both sides, and the whole city is stacked up those slopes in terraces reached by lanes, staircases and, in places, a public lift. Walking it is the point and it is genuinely hilly; a day here involves more climbing than the distances imply, and comfortable shoes matter more than an itinerary.

The layers are historical as well as physical. For over two centuries, when the country was closed, this harbour held the one licensed opening — a small artificial island where Dutch traders were confined, with a Chinese quarter alongside it. What grew from that is still legible in the street plan: a Chinatown that is one of the oldest in the country, hillside residences built by foreign merchants after the ports reopened, and churches in a city where practising the faith was a capital offence for generations. Reading the place in that order, from the water upwards, makes far more sense of it than a list of sights.

The Nishi-Kyushu Shinkansen runs from Takeo-Onsen to Nagasaki, but it is not yet connected to the rest of the network, so arriving from Hakata means a limited express to Takeo-Onsen and a change — around an hour and a half in total. Nagasaki Airport is on a man-made island about 45 minutes from the city by bus. In the city, the tram network is cheap, frequent and reaches nearly everything including Dejima and the Peace Park. Gunkanjima requires a licensed boat tour booked in advance. Huis Ten Bosch has its own station. The Goto and Tsushima islands need ferries or short flights.

Three days. Nagasaki City needs a full one — the atomic bomb museum and hypocentre park, the harbour, the hillside of churches and the Chinese quarter, plus the night view from the mountain above the city, which is the one nearly everyone remembers.

Day two goes to Gunkanjima, the abandoned coal-mining island in the harbour, which is a boat trip of a few hours and cancels in rough seas. Or to Unzen, a volcanic hot-spring town about ninety minutes east.

Day three is Huis Ten Bosch or, better, the Goto Islands or Hirado in the far west, which is where the hidden Christian communities survived two and a half centuries of prohibition. That is the real subject of this prefecture and it takes a ferry and a night to reach properly.

Fukuoka to Nagasaki is about ninety minutes, which makes a two-day version feasible from there.

Two very different stories are told here, and visitors routinely try to fit them into the same afternoon. One is the long account of contact and suppression: the traders, the missions, the persecution of Christian communities who kept practising in secret for generations, and the churches built once that was finally permitted. The other is 9 August 1945, and the museum, the hypocentre and the park north of the centre that address it.

They are in different parts of the city and they ask for different states of mind. The atomic bombing sites in particular are not a stop between other stops; the museum is detailed and unsparing and most people need somewhere quiet afterwards rather than a lunch reservation. Give that half of the city its own morning, keep the harbour and the hillside for another, and if you are here in early August be aware that the anniversary is a solemn civic occasion and the city will be observing it rather than hosting you.

Nagasaki is mild and maritime — January highs near 11°C and snow rare — but wet, with heavy rain in the June rainy season and typhoon exposure from August into September. Summers are humid above 32°C. The peace ceremony falls on August 9. Kunchi, the city's autumn festival with Chinese and Dutch influences visible in the dances, runs October 7–9. The Lantern Festival covers Chinese New Year in late January or February and is the most crowded week of the year. Gunkanjima landing tours are cancelled frequently in high seas, so allow a spare day if the island matters to you.

Champon was invented in the 1890s at a Nagasaki Chinese restaurant to feed students cheaply: noodles, pork, seafood and vegetables cooked together in a milky broth. Sara-udon is its crisp-noodle sibling. Castella, a dense sponge cake, came with Portuguese traders in the sixteenth century and the old Nagasaki bakeries still cut it thick with a sugar crust on the base. Toruko rice puts pilaf, spaghetti and a pork cutlet on one plate, which is roughly the city's whole history in miniature. Goto udon is hand-stretched with camellia oil.

Nagasaki City runs on trams — cheap, frequent, and reaching the museum, the harbour and the church district. No car needed there, and the city is built on hills steep enough that walking between quarters is harder than it looks on a map.

Beyond the city, a car helps for the Shimabara peninsula and Unzen, and is essentially required for the western coast and the routes to the ferry ports. The islands themselves need a boat and then a rental at the far end. Note that the harbour boat to Gunkanjima cancels in rough weather with some regularity, so build a spare day around it rather than making it the last thing you do.

August 9th is the anniversary of the bombing and the city is given over to commemoration. The Kunchi festival in early October is spectacular and fills every room.

The practical seasonal warning is the sea: the Gunkanjima boat and the island ferries cancel in wind, which is most common in winter and during typhoon season in late summer. If the island is the reason for your trip, come in spring or autumn and leave slack. Summer in the city is hot and steep, which is a worse combination than either alone.

A first visit is the city, and it should be given proper time. Nagasaki was Japan's only window on the outside world for over two centuries, which is why it has a Chinese quarter, a Dutch trading post on a reclaimed island in the harbour, and a hillside of Catholic churches. The bomb museum sits alongside all of that. It is the most layered city in Kyushu and a day is the minimum.

A second visit is the islands. The Goto archipelago and Hirado in the west hold the churches built by communities that kept a hidden form of Christianity alive for two hundred and fifty years without priests, and several are UNESCO-listed. Getting there means a ferry and staying means a night, which is exactly why almost nobody does it. The churches are small, working parish buildings rather than monuments, and several ask that you notify them before visiting.