Second of two parts
There's a bible lying in the street outside the church opposite the Sendai City Hotel on Bansui Dori, where I'm staying this Easter weekend. The pages are flicking over in the breeze, inviting me to pick it up and read a random verse. I begin to feel like I'm in "The Da Vinci Code II" and Tom Hanks is about to tap me on the shoulder as I slip it into my pocket and head back to the hotel.
"Sendai is called the City of Trees!" says rotund, jovial driver Morihiro Takahashi as the bus inches its way down a narrow winding mountain road. Crows — Japan's gothic scourge — swoop scornfully all around, and on one side is a steep drop that would mean certain death if the driver lost control.
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