12. Nagasaki

Diamond Princess slipped quietly into the Port of Nagasaki under cover of darkness, the city lights flickering against the early morning sky. It was a shame, really — Rob is usually first on deck for sail-ins, camera in hand, soaking up that first glimpse of a new destination. But Nagasaki chose to reveal herself slowly, wrapped in shadow and drizzle.

After a light breakfast — and a brief pause while a passing shower tapped against the windows — we headed ashore. The local trams, wonderfully old-fashioned and full of character, trundled us through the city like something from another era. When the rain grew heavier, we made an unscheduled stop to buy two umbrellas — a small but necessary investment for the day ahead.

Our first major stop was the sobering Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum. Nothing quite prepares you for it. The photographs, personal belongings, and twisted relics from that devastating day nearly 80 years ago are deeply moving. It’s not just history on display — it’s the stories of ordinary families whose lives were changed forever.

Near the entrance, thousands of brightly coloured paper cranes hung in long strands, symbols of hope and peace for the future. We bought a single paper crane as a quiet, heartfelt reminder of our visit and of Nagasaki’s enduring message to the world.

From there, we walked through the rain to Nagasaki Peace Park, home to the striking Peace Statue. The statue’s raised arm points to the threat of nuclear weapons, while the outstretched hand offers peace — a powerful and thought-provoking image. Surrounding it are memorials from countries around the world, each standing in solidarity with the survivors.

By now the rain had turned relentless, so we gratefully ducked into 102 Café for warmth, cake, and a moment to regroup. Sometimes travel isn’t about racing between sights — it’s about sitting still long enough to absorb what you’ve experienced.

With umbrellas battling the downpour, we caught another tram back towards City Hall and wandered along the Nakashima River pathway. The riverbanks were lined with colourful artwork, and we admired the series of historic stone bridges, including the famous Megane Bridge — aptly nicknamed the “Spectacles Bridge” for the perfect reflection it casts in calm water.

Unfortunately, calm water was not on the agenda. The rain became torrential, and rather than soldier on soaked to the skin, we conceded defeat and hopped a tram back to the ship.

Nagasaki may have greeted us with grey skies, but it left a lasting impression — a city marked by tragedy, yet defined by resilience, remembrance, and an unwavering call for peace.

As if Nagasaki wanted the final word, the skies cleared just as we slipped our lines and eased away from the dock. Rob was straight up on deck — he wasn’t missing this one.

On the quay stood a children’s orchestra, uniforms neat despite the earlier rain, playing cheerful farewell tunes as we slowly drifted past. They waved banners, parents cheered from behind, and passengers lined the rails waving back. It was unexpectedly moving — such a simple gesture, yet so full of warmth.

As we made our way down the harbour and out into the estuary, we passed beneath the sweeping span of the Megami Bridge, its vast steel frame stretching high above us. Along the waterfront, shipyards hummed with activity — cranes towering, welders sparking, hulls taking shape in dry docks.

For Rob, it wasn’t just another scenic sail-away. Watching the yards at work brought back memories of his own years spent in shipyards around the world — the noise, the grit, the pride of seeing a vessel come together plate by plate. There’s something grounding about that kind of industry, especially after a day steeped in reflection.

Nagasaki had shown us its sorrow, its strength, and then, as we left, its heart.

 

11. Busan South Korea

The Diamond Princess slipped quietly into Busan before most of the city had stirred. By the time we made it to the upper decks, she was already berthed — another smooth arrival to start the day.

After breakfast we jumped on the shuttle bus into the city centre, ready to explore South Korea’s second-largest city. First stop was the sprawling Jagalchi Fish Market (often called Sindonga Market by locals). The sheer scale of it was staggering. Tank after tank brimmed with every imaginable creature from the sea — fish of all shapes and colours, wriggling octopus, enormous crabs, shellfish piled high.

 It wasn’t just a market; it was a theatre of seafood. Upstairs and along the aisles, small stalls invited you to sit down and sample the day’s catch. The smells, the chatter, the clatter of knives on chopping boards — it was gloriously chaotic.

From there we wandered into the bright, buzzing lanes of BIFF Square, famous for its connection to the Busan International Film Festival. Street food stalls lined the pavements, neon signs flashed overhead, and the whole area had an infectious energy.

A short walk brought us to Gukje Market, and if you can’t find it here, it probably doesn’t exist. Clothes, electronics, kitchenware, souvenirs — stall after stall packed with goods, vendors calling out deals, shoppers weaving through the narrow lanes. It felt wonderfully authentic and alive.

We paused for a quieter moment at Daegaksa Temple, one of the first Japanese Buddhist temples built following the 1876 Japan–Korea Treaty. Tucked away amid the urban bustle, it offered a peaceful contrast to the markets — ornate details, soft incense in the air, and a calm that invited reflection.

Then came the climb — thankfully via a series of escalators — up to Yongdusan Park. The first thing that commands your attention is the imposing statue of Yi Sun-sin, the legendary naval hero celebrated for defending Korea against Japanese invasions in the 16th century. Standing before it, you can feel how deeply respected he remains.

Nearby, we stumbled upon a colourful local performance — vibrant costumes, rhythmic music, and plenty of enthusiastic applause from the crowd. It added yet another layer of culture to an already full day.

Of course, no visit here is complete without heading up Busan Tower. In moments we were whisked 120 metres above ground. The 360-degree views were breathtaking — mountains on one side, the vast port on the other, and a forest of skyscrapers stretching endlessly towards the horizon.

Before heading back, we found a traditional rooftop café where local families were enjoying relaxed Sunday meals together. We kept it simple with a cold Terra beer, content to soak up the atmosphere and admire the beautifully presented dishes arriving at neighbouring tables.

Back aboard the Diamond Princess, we watched Busan’s skyline shimmer in the late afternoon light. The sheer number of high-rise buildings seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see — a striking blend of modern ambition and deep-rooted history.

Busan had delivered energy, culture, history and food in abundance — and we’d only scratched the surface.

10. The Kanmon Straights and Shimonoseki

On a beautifully calm morning, the Diamond Princess glided into the narrow waters of the Kanmon Straits — and what a spectacle it was.

This isn’t just any stretch of water; it’s one of Japan’s busiest shipping lanes. From the deck, we watched a constant parade of vessels: cargo ships, tugboats, ferries — all weaving and manoeuvring with impressive precision. Because of our size, we crept forward at a near crawl, especially as we approached Shimonoseki, where the straits narrow dramatically. You could almost feel the concentration on the bridge.

Both banks were alive with activity. Heavy industry lined the shoreline — cranes towering overhead, dry docks brimming with ships under repair, workers pausing to wave as we passed. It felt wonderfully real and unfiltered. We slipped beneath several vast bridges, each one framing the ship perfectly as cameras clicked all around us.

Once docked, reality hit — our berth was seemingly miles from civilisation. No charming harbourfront welcome here. So, we hopped on the ship’s transfer bus to Shimonoseki’s main station and set off to explore properly.

Our first stop was Akamajingu Shrine, a striking shrine with vivid red architecture and deep historical significance. 

Nearby lies the site of the Battle of Dan-no-ura, one of Japan’s most famous naval battles. Standing beneath the sweeping span of the Kanmon Bridge, with its impressive cannons and statues commemorating the conflict, you can almost picture the dramatic events that unfolded there in 1185.

After soaking up the history, we wandered through the streets of Shimonoseki, where the city proudly celebrates its most famous delicacy — fugu, or pufferfish. Statues of the quirky-looking fish pop up all over town, a fun and slightly surreal reminder that this is Japan’s pufferfish capital.

From industrial waterways to ancient battlefields and fishy mascots, Shimonoseki turned out to be far more fascinating than that distant dock first suggested.