Himeji

It is still raining heavily when I leave the subway and I wonder what that means for my planned excursion to Himeji to see Japan’s most impressive feudal-era fortress: Himeji-jo. I decide to risk it, and jump on the shinkansen to Himeji. The rain is just easing off when I arrive at Himeji but it’s a bit of a grey day, so not ideal aesthetic conditions for viewing the ‘white heron’ castle. Upon arrival at Himeji, it’s easy to decide which way to go as the main street - Otemachi-dori - leads right up to the castle, which I can just about make out in the distance.

The kilometre walk from the station provides uninterrupted views of the castle, known as the White Heron because of the shape of its donjon. The countless souvenir shops are an intrusion, but I focus on the end of the street, at the monstrous structure. As it looms larger in the distance, I recall countless images from samurai films that used the castle grounds and, of course, where James Bond trained to be a ninja in You Only Live Twice. Again, I feel like I’m leaving modern Japan behind and returning to an older time, but instead of the philosophers and monks of Kyoto, it’s a time of warriors and castle keeps, of sieges and feudal lords.

The castle was never captured and, as it towers above me, it’s easy to imagine why not. It’s quite a climb to the top and there are plenty of little alcoves and platforms from which defenders could fire arrows or pour boiling oil. Slightly incongruous is the West Bailey building, which acted as the Princess Sen’s quarters during the mid-seventeenth century and has a much more comfortable appearance than the utilitarian castle, with its gun racks and hanging samurai armor. The view from the top of the castle is spectacular, even on such a grey day, and the forbidding, misty hills provide a taste of what might have made a sentry shiver as he kept watch from the walls so long ago.

Presented with such a massive structure, it’s hard to notice the details, but almost every stone of the castle has a story to tell. Successive daimyo (lords), often had problems finding stones for their castle expansions and in some places you can see their imaginative solutions, such as using coffins and grave stones or - in the case of more popular lords - millstones donated by the general populace.

As I work my way back down the zigzag path from the keep, I marvel that, while the surrounding area was devastated during World War II, this fortress remains to tell us its long and - thankfully- continuing story.