It was an overcast morning in Japan when my mom and I woke early and headed to Kyoto Station, where we boarded the next Shinkansen train heading southwest towards Himeji, a town of about half a million located in Hyogo Prefecture.
We arrived about 45 minutes later and after a coffee at the local konbini, then set out on the 10-minute walk along the city's wide streets towards the UNESCO World Heritage Himeji Castle, the largest in all of Japan, which was impossible to miss.
Himeji Castle is probably the most famous castle in all of Japan, and one of the country's most spectacular examples of feudal-era Japanese architecture.
The castle's origins date back to 1333, when it was built by the governor of the no longer extant Harima Province. It changed hands many times, and was expanded and fortified repeatedly over the centuries, most notably in the early 1600s by Ikeda Terumasa (who was granted the castle by none other than Shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu himself), who transformed it into the grand fortified complex that stands today.
When the feudal system was abolished in 1871, the castle was designated for use by the military and became an army fort for a time. Today, it plays a huge roll in Japanese pop culture and has been the premier filming location for tons of Japanese ninja films (as well as for the James Bond movie You Only Live Twice).
Though much of Himeji Town itself was destroyed during the Second World War, the castle was miraculously spared when a firebomb struck its roof but failed to detonate.
It has stood for nearly seven centuries, withstanding even natural disasters like the Great Honshu Earthquake of 1995. Local lore says that when the earthquake hit, even a bottle of sake left in offering at the castle's shrine remained upright. It's become a symbol of Japan and one of its most iconic landmarks.
The castle, one of only a handful of Japan's original pre-war castles still standing to this day, is believed to be lucky and protected by the kami, or spirits.
Himeji Castle is officially called Hakuro-jō, or the "White Heron Castle", because of its brilliant white exterior, very expensive to maintain in the past, which supposedly resembles a water bird taking flight over the hills of Himeji.
We wound our way up the long path leading to the hilltop castle. Unlike Nijō Castle in Kyoto, which was more of a villa, Himeji Castle was very much built as a defensive fortress. Beyond just its easily defensible hilltop location and thick stone walls, one of Himeji’s most famous defenses is its network of winding paths leading up to the main keep.
Attackers would have to navigate a series of sharp turns and switchbacks all while under fire from defenders above. The path deliberately forces attackers to circle the keep counterclockwise, exposing their unshielded right sides to defenders’ arrows and gunfire.
We removed our shoes and entered the castle itself, stepping barefooted upon the smooth wood floors. The inside of the castle is sparse and functional, with plain wooden beams, walls lined with weapon racks, and dark, militaristic chambers. It's a far cry from the highly decorative golden murals painted on the walls of Nijō Castle.
Himeji Castle is six stories tall and set atop Himeyama Hill, and offers an incredible vantage point from which to spot any approaching enemies well in advance. Its outer walls contained villages, pastures, and workshops. It was meant to be self-sustainable in order to withstand a siege if necessary.
Legend has it that the castle's master architect, Sakurai Genbei, who had overseen nearly a decade of the construction of the beautiful and formidable fortress, became obsessed with the idea that the castle was leaning slightly to one side. Struck by shame at the thought of his masterpiece having even a single flaw, the architect threw himself from the highest point of the castle holding a chisel in his mouth as a symbol of his craft.
One of my favorite features of the castle are the shachi, mythical tiger-headed fish used atop the castle towers as a talisman for fire prevention.
The upper level of the castle is home to a very small Shinto shrine dedicated to the osakabe, or guardian spirits, of the land on which the castle is built.
The shrine is not large nor is it particularly impressive, but its position within the castle itself is very unusual. I wonder if it's sort of a symbol of the idea that the castle needed protection, not just against soldiers, but against spiritual threats as well.
We exited the castle, down the steep wooden stairs and through the winding path back to its grounds.
As we were leaving the castle grounds, we passed by the unassuming Okiku's Well, the site of one of Japan's most famous tales. Kaidan, or ghost stories, are very popular in Japan, and Sarayashiki, or "Manor of the Dishes", is one of the best known.
The Edo-era folktale is a story of broken trust, and tells the story of Okiku, a young servant working in the local village. Acording to legend, the advances of the samurai Aoyama Tessan were rejected by Okiku and to punish her, he hid one of ten valuable heirloom dishes and accused Okiku of losing it, a crime punishable by death. The story says that she was thrown into the well to her death and that even to this day, her spirit returns each night counting the dishes from deep below within the well, “one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...”, starting over again and again but never reaching ten.
After touring the castle, we called a cab and returned to Himeji Station to board the bullet train on towards our next destination: Kobe.
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