Senshokaku is a surprise in a shipyard city: a wooden Western-style guesthouse of 1904, built by Mitsubishi on the hillside above its Nagasaki shipyard so that foreign clients and dignitaries could stay in comfort while ships were built and launched below. The house, with its verandas and clapboard walls, looks out over the harbour, and from here the owners could watch their vessels take shape. Today it is part of the Sites of Japan's Meiji Industrial Revolution, which UNESCO recognised in 2015, and it is a reminder that heavy industry in Japan was as much about hosting and diplomacy as steel plate.
Nagasaki is a city of hills. Houses climb the slopes in terraces and the lanes between them are steep, narrow, and sometimes only wide enough for a scooter. Riding here means low gears, careful braking and plenty of looking around corners. The old streetcars still rattle through the flat parts, and you share the lane with them. Be gentle with a loaded bike: the climb up to Glover Garden or the Oura Church is short but steep, and parking is limited.
The city's history is layered. For over two centuries, when Japan was closed to most foreigners, Dutch traders were confined to the small island of Dejima in the harbour, and this made Nagasaki the country's window on the West. Portuguese missionaries arrived earlier, and a hidden Christian community survived the long ban. The atomic bomb fell on the city on 9 August 1945, and the Peace Park and the museum are quiet, necessary places that deserve a half day.
Nagasaki is also a good place to eat. The local plates are champon, a thick noodle soup, and sara udon, and the Chinese influence from old trade ties is strong. Castella, the sponge cake the Portuguese brought, is sold everywhere. Fuel is plentiful on the roads out of the city, though less so in the centre. Obita and Togitsu, to the north, have easy stations. Come in spring or autumn, when the humid summer has not yet made the hills a trial.