Castle!

J112.1 Sunday August 12th (part 2)

Right, where was I? Ah, the katana shop. Every time I'm in a store that sells weapons, I have that fantasy. You know the one; where ninjas or robots or something bursts in? Yeah. They just burst in the glass and demand the deed to the store or something. Then you say some witty one-liner and grab the nearest sword and just go to town.

...

Yeah...I totally do that. It's the kid in me.

Anyway. After I got done drooling over th beautiful swords, I decided to check out the castle. It is huge. Seriously, it must cover a square kilometer at least. I approached it from its south-west corner and snapped a few pictures. A young Japanese woman was there, too, but thanks to the large hedge separating the parking lot from the castle's moat, she couldn't get any good pictures. She looked at me as I took my shots, and I saw the question in her eyes. In partial Japanese I offered to help her take a few pictures. She accepted, grateful.

Hers was a nice camera. Film, with a good zoom/focus lens. I wish I knew more about cameras, honestly. I'm an okay amateur photographer, but my knowledge of the technology doesn't extend beyond the most basic technical aspects. I got three shots for her, doing my best to stand on tip-toe above the hedges.

As I proceeded to purchase my ticket, I was stopped by another person in need of photography assistance. He was a Canadian gentleman of Middle Eastern decent. He said his parents came from Iran, but you couldn't have told it by his accent. He sounded like he came from middle America. He wanted me to get some shots of him at the castle's gates. I got a few good shots of him and we wished each other well.

Nijo castle was amazing. The gates were massive wooden things, about a foot and a half thick, set with broad bands of iron and copper. The hinges were as big as my torso, and had twisted due to the combined forces of time and gravity. I don't know if they still turn or not.

The castle's walls were equally massive. They weren't walls in the classic sense of the word; they were more like hills made of stacked stone. They sloped from bottom to top in a deceptively steep curve. Japanese stone walls are build with all the stones being tilted at a 45 degree angle. Rather than a typical, Western "brick" pattern, the stones look like diamonds. This denies easy footholds to any would-be climber.

The castle's grounds were open to the public. Most of the buildings one could enter, but a few were sealed off. The grounds are divided into two sections. The first was the shogun's main palace, a diagonal stretch of connected buildings where the shogun lived and held court. This area also contained most of the castle's gardens. The second area was a castle-within-a-castle design, built atop an artificial hill. It was the redoubt in case the lower castle fell to attackers. It too had gardens and defenses, but much more spartan compared to the opulence of the lower grounds.

I walked past the first inner wall and saw the shogun's palace. The entry hall had been converted to a shoe station; visitors cannot wear shoes whilst in the castle. Tall shelves held dozens of pairs of shoes, and mine occupied an empty slot quickly. I walked into the cool interior of the castle, and into the past.

The castle retains most if not all of its ancient construction materials. The support beams are massive and exposed, blending in with the interior decor. The corridors and hallways of the palace skirt the "outside" of the structures, leaving the middle of the structure for rooms and halls. Every room was divided from the halls and its neighbors by hand-painted silk and paper sliding doors. All of the doors sported exquisite paintings from grand master painters. Pastoral mountain scenes filled with trees and birds lurked in the dusty shade of the rooms, glittering despite the darkness. Actually, the castle was surprisingly well-lit, despite the lack of modern lighting. All of the corridors had super-thin paper windows, blocking the view from the outside, but not the light.

The coolest thing, though, had to be the nightingale floors. A nightingale floor is a rather cleaver trick of architectural design. The floorboards of the castle are pivoted in the middle of the floor by a tiny amount. Not even half a centimeter, for the most part. Where the ends of the planks meet the walls, a carpenter drives a nail at a specific angle and smooths the wood where the two touch. The effect of all this is a quiet, but noticeable, squeak or chirp whenever someone steps on the floorboard. Not every plank is constructed this way, maybe one out of every three or four, and it's a random pattern. This was an excellent way to guard against intruders, because the noise caries well in the quiet of night.

It was kind of neat, too, because there were so many people. One person sounds like a lone bird, chirping happily away by itself. With dozens of people walking around, though, it sounded like a flock of birds talking.

Visitors couldn't walk into the rooms themselves, but the corridors went everywhere, so there was nowhere in the castle you couldn't see. Upon exiting I walked through the gardens to the upper keep, marveling at the water and stones. The garden ringed a modest pond. In the center of the little body of water was a round island, similar in appearance to a turtle swimming just beneath the water. Slabs of rock were laid from the pond's shore to the island, providing foot bridges for access. The paths were sealed to visitors, but the view was lovely.

The upper keep was nice, but nothing like the lower castle. I climbed one of the higher walls via some steep steps and was treated to a nice view of the city. Kyoto is ringed on three sides by mountains, and the scenery can be quite breathtaking. I walked down and then along a big path ringing the inside of the castle's walls. I got some much-needed liquid refreshment at some vending machines located along the path.

Coming back to near where I began my trip to the castle, I ducked into a small building where more of the beautiful, ancient paintings were on display. It was air conditioned, a mercy given the day's relentless heat, and I enjoyed a few minutes just looking at the wall paintings. The artistic technique is very different from western art. It has some aspects of illumination, but there's a more realistic feel to the paintings. Detail is exquisite and precise. Very amazing. The little museum also had some artifacts recovered from a dig on the castle's grounds. Pots, coins, arrow heads, that sort of stuff.

A little further down the path was the souvenir shop, which I stopped in for yet another drink. Hydration is essential to surviving the hot Japanese summer! I rested for a bit, drinking water and sports drink with equal aplomb, and checking out the shiny stuff, but nothing really leapt out at me. I consulted my map, wondering what to do next. By now it was already 3PM, and I noticed that the castle closed at 5PM, and I was worried that most of the other temples and shrines did the same. I figured Kinkakuji, the golden temple, was my next stop.

I calculated which bus to take and hopped on. Luckily, Nijo castle has a big bus stop, and the bus I wanted pulled up literally as I was walking towards it. I got off a stop early, accidentally, but managed to get some dinner from a conbini. I followed the crowd, always a good idea when you're not exactly sure where something important is in Japan, and found my way to Kinkakuji's entrance.

I followed the crowd in, paid for my ticket, and once again found myself taken somewhere very different than the normal world. Kinkakuji is a very old, very famous temple complex. Shrines and temples line the broad path leading to the main temple. From a small side path a group of monks and priests came walking, and they were kind enough to pose for a few pictures.

I followed the crowd until I saw the sparkle of gold through the trees. I readied my camera and turned the corner, and was struck dumb. Kinkakuji means "The Golden Temple" and I can tell you, that is no lie. Kinkakuji, the actual building itself, is a three-story Japanese-style pagoda. The two top floors are completely covered in gold leaf. The sun was setting quickly now, but even in the near-twilight the temple seemed to glow. The temple was built on a small outcrop of land into a medium-sized lake. The still waters reflected the temple like a mirror. The trees and bushes, the temple, the lake, even the native fauna, combined in a sublime display of Eastern aesthetics. It was beautiful.

It was also at this time that my memory card filled up. I went through what I'd taken that day, getting rid of my duplicate photos and those that were out of focus. I freed up about 30 pictures worth of space, but I was still worried. I needed to get a new memory card before too long.

I followed the crowd up a small mountain path, passing by more miniature shrines. Several points along the path were wish spots; small half-rings of stones surrounding a wooden bowl. If you threw a coin into the bowl, your wish comes true. The bowls were surrounded by a thick layer of coins, ranging from aluminum 1-yen coins to the nickel/copper 100 yen ones.

After a few more minutes of walking, and another gift shop or two, I was back at the entrance to the temple grounds. I wanted to try to visit one more place before everything closed, and there was a nearby temple that sounded cool. Ryoji was recommended by my students. It has famous zen gardens of rock and sand, and it sounded like a cool place to see. I started walking in the right direction. And kept walking. And walked some more. I finally came to the end of the side street I'd turned off onto, and found the temple. Closed for the day.

Sigh.

I turned around and began to contemplate what I would do for the evening. I had two options: one, go home via Shinkansen and sleep like the dead, or two, find a hotel and do it all again the next morning.

I started walking aimlessly. I found a small side street, this one back toward the heart of the city. I figured I would make my mind up on the bus ride to the station. It soon became obvious, though, that I was heading deep into a residential strip rather than a bus-serviced main road. Still, I walked, remembering the pleasure I often feel by just exploring Hitachi.

I came upon a small drinking party being organized. A tiny shrine was perched atop a pillar between two buildings. Before it lay offerings and incense, and in front of the shrine was a low table piled high with food and drink. The ladies guarding the party-to-be said it was a party in honor of the shrine's god.

That's just not something you see every day, folks.

Across the street from this party, and a little ways down, I found an electronics shop. They looked to be still open, so I figured I'd ask and see if they had any memory cards. The proprietor did indeed have some, but it took a while for them to find and then price them. I struck up a halting conversation with one of the store owners while I waited. Standard fare, really. I mentioned that I didn't have a place for the night, though, and that got a response.

The other shop keep came back with the memory card, but it was too small and too expensive for my needs. I politely declined, and was ready to head out the door, when they started helping me. They gave me directions to a big electronics store (Denki) in the city. They also helped me find a place to stay. They even gave me tea!

Now, realize that my recounting of this tale is brief, but the fact that these people helped me, a person they have never met before and will probably never see again for their entire lives, really touched me. They bent over backwards to help me find a place to stay that night. They called up a small Japanese Inn, the proprietor of which spoke pretty good English. She and I made arrangements and I made my way to the train station to get my bag. The bus ride down to the station and back up to the top end of town was very, very long, illustrating Kyoto's vast size. The map I was using made Kyoto look kind of small, but in reality it's massive.

By the time I got to the inn, a small place called Tani House (run by one Mrs. Tani) it was pitch black. I followed one of the four maps the small electronics store owners had given me. After a few turns I found myself on a gravel road, and before me was a cozy looking Japanese home with a sign hanging over the gate: TANI HOUSE. It looked like something out of a fairy tale; a small home tightly packed with stuff. The front yard sported a tiny pond and a babbling water pump. I met Mrs. Tani who greeted me and took me 'round the back to the private room I had requested for the night.

Realize that, essentially, Tani House was Mrs. Tani's house, and that she rented rooms out. I was taken to a separate set of rooms in the back of her house. The small building had two bed rooms and two bathrooms, linked by a common kitchen. Mrs. Tani made some green tea for me (wonderfully cool) and laid out some salted nuts and a tasty snack of mochi. She showed me around the place, turned on the AC, and left me to my own devices.

I relaxed for the first time all day, stretching out and delighting in the cool of the air conditioner. I turned on the TV in my room to see what was on, and found a fascinating program. It was a made-for-TV drama/biography about a famous manga artist, Shigeru Mizuki. The film alternated between the recent past, as Mizuki drew manga, and his tour in the South Pacific as a young man, which part of his manga was based on. It was quite bittersweet.

I soon felt the day's trials weigh on me, so I unfolded my futon and drifted off to sleep. It was hardly 10PM by the time I was unconscious.