Sunday.
As in, a weekend.
At one of Japan's most popular tourist
spots for Japanese tourists.
Oops.
OK, so Kyoto is probably more popular,
but is also spread out. This is ONE place. At the top floor fo the
main tower (I mean, if you're gonna come you gotta go to the top,
right?) is maybe 40ft on a side.
Ok, so I didn't do the math.
Let me start at the beginning.
Himeji-jo is the oldest castle in Japan
that is still original. Everything old here is made out of wood, so
it's pretty unusual for a structure to last many centuries. Usually
something is “from” 740-something or 1120-whatever, but was
actually rebuilt three or four times since then, in the original
style or even at 2/3 size (which happens quite a bit, actually). But
this castle isn't a reproduction, it's been standing as is since the
early 17th century. It's very beautiful, and has been the
backdrop for many movies.
We did this as a day trip from Kyoto,
so we got on the train recommended by the fractional English of the
Japan Rail ticket booth agent. It's about 1 ½ hours away. We
got on our train. 2 ½ hours later, we arrived. Hmmm.
OK, not to be perturbed we join the
swirling masses at the train station, and follow the herd up the road
towards the castle. At each crosswalk along the way there are two
crossing guards. And I do mean EVERY crosswalk. There was a
crossing guard for the alleys. Really, this should have been a
warning, but we just found it cool – crossing guards for grownups!
The sidewalk here is wide, so even with all the bicycles and evryone
else it doesn't feel crowded.
“Oh look, the castle!” I exclaim
at the first glimpse through the trees. Susan puts on her best 'I'm
excited too' smile and says “Yup! Are you excited?” The green
man comes on the crosswalk sign, bored security guys in uniform hold
their orange sticks sideways across the road, the herd moves forth.
I almost moo, but figure the locals wouldn't get the joke.
There is a street market, we get
distracted. Mmm, bi hunks of chicken on a skewer. Mmm, ice cream.
Mmm puff balls filled with cherry-blossom cream. Mmm puff balls
filled with squid. Yuck! Not what I was expecting. Susan eats the
rest of the squid-skewer. It's a nice role reversal. Usually, I get
allocated the job of human garbage disposal. See, there are no
trashcans here. It's a really, really strange paradox – there is
no litter anywhere, and the country is clean as a whistle, but
finding a trashcan is a nightmare. Evidently everyone either eats
their garbage or the rumors that they carry their trash home at the
end of the day is true. (Breaking chronology, I was in the bathroom
at a Noh thearter a few days later and the sign actually says, in
English and Kanji, “Please take your garbage home with you”
Imagine going to the opera and being told thank you for your support
of the arts, now please carry your used kleenex in your pocket,
because trash is charged by the pound).
Ok, across the moat, and through the
gates, winding past fortifications from which samurai arches would
have rained hellfire on any army foolish enough to challenge their
leige lord. Sadly, we learn the castle was never attacked. Part of
why it is still standing, I suppose. But after walking through it I
can sympathize – this place is impregnable. It's also huge, the
outer moat is gone now but is roughly two kilometers from the keep.
The inner moat enclosed a small city of samurai; each with a house
and garden. They could have withstood a seige effectively
indefinitely, with sources of fresh water and food enough. I start
to point out the advantageous positioning of the bridge, which does
not cross the moat straigt-on, but at a steep diagonal, allowing more
archers and musketeers to basically broadside any attackers from
behind and atop the walls. Susan is looking at the flowers.
OK, in truth the gardening is also
quite beautiful. But more striking than anything is how the cultural
differences of men and women still exceed the differences between
American and Japanese. I'm standing in a mass of grown men who have
all, simultaneously, been transported to their childhood. We all
look with a little envy at the 6 year olds running around with their
plastic swords. If nobody was looking...
About half-way up the tower I try to
explain the murder-holes to Susan. Gesturing as I speak, “you open
the hatch like this, and then drop stones or boiling stuff on the
attackers trying to climb the walls”. Susan nods in comprehension,
but the little Japanese woman (who can read the Kanji sign explaining
all this), “Ahhs” and smiles with sudden understanding. Every
male in the place has a pretty good idea of how to stage a fighting
retreat through the rings of defenses, using feignts and the secret
passageways to overextend, cut-off and flank advancing enemies.
Countless hours of military science we study as kids that goes
wasted...
So, we walk up and up, through the
defenses, past the gates and walls, and into the bottom floor of the
keep (the main tower for you Y-chromosome challenged readers out
there). This too could provide a pretty good last redoubt, with huge
spaces for storing provisions, arms and ammunition. Each floor is
linked to the next with a steep staircase topped by heavy wooden
doors the open vertically. I would not want to be the guy trying to
climb these under duress. Hell, I kinda don't like climbing them now
(ankle still hurting) – is there an escalator in the house.
But before we can go in, and imagine
ourselves as marauders or stalwart defenders making a desperate last
stand, we have to take off our shoes. I just can't explain the
entertainment value of a major tourist attraction that has two full
time staffers handing out plastic bags so that people can carry their
shoes around with them.
At about the third level we hit a dead
stop. A mass of people has formed a queue to get up to the next
floor. It's long, but moving. We stand around and try to fill ten
minutes with a close examination of the paintings done by some
ancient onetime resident of the castle... Oh look, a book listing
all the samurai of the 13 so and so who was the 7th sone
of so and so and yada yada. Susan is still smiling, god bless her.
OK, they let the next group up to the
next floor. Bottleneck averted. Except the next story is the same
story... Oh look another sample of mediocre art that is really
old...
Up an impossibly steep staircase, and a
very low head clearance and we are – at the second to the top
floor. Which has nothing to see, since they just want you to wait.
The line to climb up to the next floor winds two or three times
before this last staircase up. We're packed in like sardines with
young'ins and teenagers and grown-ups. But everyone is very patient,
and get this, there are no ropes or anything designating the line.
We're coiled like a snake, waiting for them to let us up, since it
goes in batches. When the doors open, and the next 40 people can go,
everyone winds along. Not one teenager or urchin cuts ahead, which
would be oh so easy to do. Everyone just waits their turn.
Now, I'm pretty excited. It probably
took us an hour to wind through to the top floor, it's a lot of time
on to be on your feet and wth nothing but squid-balls in my stomach
and being surrounded by a hundred or so of my best friends in their
socks, I'm a little woozy. We climb past the final defenses, to the
inner sanctum, home of the Daimyo himself! And what do we see – a
bunch of other tourists in their socks looking out the windows at the
view. Susan is still smiling, what a gal! OK, actually, it was
kinda cool. The view was great, there was a little shrine where the
dais used to be, and some of the detail work in the construction was
more ornate and gilded.
Back down, and a brief walk through the
gardens, but we both need food and a rest. Then back to Kyoto (found
a faster train this time) and the next morning we're off to Koya-san.
