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Anyway, Nijo-jo.
I went there because it was an easy walk from the hotel, and I remember it as being quite spectacular. Which hasn`t changed, of course. Nor was the weather any different from the last time I was there; it was spectacularly hot. Thank all the gods for the ever-present Japanese vending machines, else I`m certain I would have keeled over. For a few minutes as I was walking, I was seeing scintillating shadow-stripes on the multicolored brick walkways where they did not in fact exist.
You have to cross a moat to get to Nijo-jo. The moat is wide, the mossy green shade of stagnant water, but when you look over the wooden railing of the wide stone bridge, you can occasionally see the dark shapes of carp swimming below. The wall of castle side is stone, huge grey-brown cut blocks that slant in a steep wall out of the water. On top of that is another wall, white, capped with dark tile.
After passing the moat, there`s a massive gate to go under on the other side. The form is what I`ve come to expect, the iron-studded wood door swung back on its ponderous hinges, the white-painted works around it, the dark tile roof on top. On the other side is an expanse of hot gravel, with a gaurdhouse off to the right and elegant pine trees to the left. Another wall rises around the palace, just as high as the first.
I pity the poor soldiers who once had to assault Japanese castles. It must have been hell. And Nijo-jo`s hardly the worst of them (it was more palace than anything else); Himeji`s a bloody maze of fortifications. Jeez.
In any case, following the broad walkway around the corner of the enclosure, another gate is set into the wall. This one is thatched, not tiled, but is far more impressive. The roof on the gate is curved upwards in the center rather than peaked on the ends, and the lintels are capped in elaborate gold filials. Gilded woodcarvings decorate the inside, once brightly painted but now faded: leopards and dragons, phoenixes and cranes, blue deer with golden antlers and spots, all playing among peonies and chrysanthamums.
The palace enterance is framed by the gate across an expanse of gravel, and is of a similar construction, with similar decorations. The roof is broader, of course, but the walls rise only as high as the walls that surround it. The shade of the expansive enteranceway is a welcome releif after the hot sun and the dust. Of course you take your shoes off-- sandals, for me, and the wooden steps were both rough and delightfully smooth to my bare feet.
Nijo-jo is famed for it`s "nightengale floors"-- the broad boards squeak when you step on them, caused by a facet of their construction I will explain if asked, but which is unromantically technical. Besides providing a pleasantly musical accompaniment to the tour, they also served a practical function; it`s virtually impossible to sneak around that place. Not that it would be possible anyway. First, though expansive, the construction is quite simple, the rooms large and rectancular, the hallways straight and wide. There is no furniture, and hence nowhere to hide. Unless you`re a guard, of course. Small closets intended to be occupied by said gaurds are pointedly placed in every room the shogun was likely to be in.
Every room is floored in tatami mats, naturally, and the screen walls are elaborately painted. One room has a motif of pine trees, another is decorated with exotic leopards and tigers, another with wild fowl. The shogun`s chambers were all mountains and forests in relaxing sepia and white rather than the gaudy gold leaf of the audience and receiving chambers. Elaborately carved wooden panels covered the expanse above the painted screens, and also lined the top of the hallways, allowing light to pass from one room to the next.
Even so the hallways were dim, and the rooms likewise. One room had lifesize models of the people who might have been in the castle, the shogun before his retainers. Their outfits were elaborate, their faces frozen in pale masks of adoration. Each bore a crest on his back; this one two birds, that one three commas, another interlocking leaves, all based on a circle pattern. Their trousers and sleeves trailed a good two feet behind them from where they knelt on the floor. I heard one Japanese man tell the Americans he was showing around that they were dressed that way on purpose, to make it more difficult for them to attack the shogun. They all had their swords, but it would indeed be difficult to attack any man while tripping over one`s trouser legs. So if that was the reason for it or not, it was nevertheless effective.
Like all palaces, Nijo-jo is built to impress, and it does. I no longer find it so perfectly exotic as I did at first-- ah, the voice of experiece-- but it`s still amazingly beautiful, from the painted ceilings to the plain wooden hallways.
Outide is a garden, lazily draped around a small pond. It too is elegant, with a small waterfall in one corner, and three islands connected by natural-looking stone bridges. As I stood there, watching, a small crane landed on one of these bridges and stood there preening and shaking out its wings, its long neck impossibly flexible, its legs as delicate as the ribs that supported the paper screens.
I went there because it was an easy walk from the hotel, and I remember it as being quite spectacular. Which hasn`t changed, of course. Nor was the weather any different from the last time I was there; it was spectacularly hot. Thank all the gods for the ever-present Japanese vending machines, else I`m certain I would have keeled over. For a few minutes as I was walking, I was seeing scintillating shadow-stripes on the multicolored brick walkways where they did not in fact exist.
You have to cross a moat to get to Nijo-jo. The moat is wide, the mossy green shade of stagnant water, but when you look over the wooden railing of the wide stone bridge, you can occasionally see the dark shapes of carp swimming below. The wall of castle side is stone, huge grey-brown cut blocks that slant in a steep wall out of the water. On top of that is another wall, white, capped with dark tile.
After passing the moat, there`s a massive gate to go under on the other side. The form is what I`ve come to expect, the iron-studded wood door swung back on its ponderous hinges, the white-painted works around it, the dark tile roof on top. On the other side is an expanse of hot gravel, with a gaurdhouse off to the right and elegant pine trees to the left. Another wall rises around the palace, just as high as the first.
I pity the poor soldiers who once had to assault Japanese castles. It must have been hell. And Nijo-jo`s hardly the worst of them (it was more palace than anything else); Himeji`s a bloody maze of fortifications. Jeez.
In any case, following the broad walkway around the corner of the enclosure, another gate is set into the wall. This one is thatched, not tiled, but is far more impressive. The roof on the gate is curved upwards in the center rather than peaked on the ends, and the lintels are capped in elaborate gold filials. Gilded woodcarvings decorate the inside, once brightly painted but now faded: leopards and dragons, phoenixes and cranes, blue deer with golden antlers and spots, all playing among peonies and chrysanthamums.
The palace enterance is framed by the gate across an expanse of gravel, and is of a similar construction, with similar decorations. The roof is broader, of course, but the walls rise only as high as the walls that surround it. The shade of the expansive enteranceway is a welcome releif after the hot sun and the dust. Of course you take your shoes off-- sandals, for me, and the wooden steps were both rough and delightfully smooth to my bare feet.
Nijo-jo is famed for it`s "nightengale floors"-- the broad boards squeak when you step on them, caused by a facet of their construction I will explain if asked, but which is unromantically technical. Besides providing a pleasantly musical accompaniment to the tour, they also served a practical function; it`s virtually impossible to sneak around that place. Not that it would be possible anyway. First, though expansive, the construction is quite simple, the rooms large and rectancular, the hallways straight and wide. There is no furniture, and hence nowhere to hide. Unless you`re a guard, of course. Small closets intended to be occupied by said gaurds are pointedly placed in every room the shogun was likely to be in.
Every room is floored in tatami mats, naturally, and the screen walls are elaborately painted. One room has a motif of pine trees, another is decorated with exotic leopards and tigers, another with wild fowl. The shogun`s chambers were all mountains and forests in relaxing sepia and white rather than the gaudy gold leaf of the audience and receiving chambers. Elaborately carved wooden panels covered the expanse above the painted screens, and also lined the top of the hallways, allowing light to pass from one room to the next.
Even so the hallways were dim, and the rooms likewise. One room had lifesize models of the people who might have been in the castle, the shogun before his retainers. Their outfits were elaborate, their faces frozen in pale masks of adoration. Each bore a crest on his back; this one two birds, that one three commas, another interlocking leaves, all based on a circle pattern. Their trousers and sleeves trailed a good two feet behind them from where they knelt on the floor. I heard one Japanese man tell the Americans he was showing around that they were dressed that way on purpose, to make it more difficult for them to attack the shogun. They all had their swords, but it would indeed be difficult to attack any man while tripping over one`s trouser legs. So if that was the reason for it or not, it was nevertheless effective.
Like all palaces, Nijo-jo is built to impress, and it does. I no longer find it so perfectly exotic as I did at first-- ah, the voice of experiece-- but it`s still amazingly beautiful, from the painted ceilings to the plain wooden hallways.
Outide is a garden, lazily draped around a small pond. It too is elegant, with a small waterfall in one corner, and three islands connected by natural-looking stone bridges. As I stood there, watching, a small crane landed on one of these bridges and stood there preening and shaking out its wings, its long neck impossibly flexible, its legs as delicate as the ribs that supported the paper screens.
