Takahisa parked his car in an underground car park a short walk from the main entrance to the Himeji Castle grounds. We emerged back on the surface via an elevator at the edge of a trail of tents and street stalls that made up Himeji's Sunday market. Takahisa explained these were becoming increasingly popular in Japan. The castle grounds were already crowded with visitors who mainly strolled the network of paths, but many like us took advantage of the lawns where one of the best views of the castle could be had, and thus one of the best photographs. As we reached the kiosk I insisted I pay for both of us. After all, it was I who had requested a visit, and I wondered how many times Takahisa had been duty bound to take guests to the castle before. "About four times," Takahisa revealed, so I guessed he wasn't looking forward to the visit quite as much as a first time visitor would. His familiarity was in fact a massive boon, for as I purchased the entry tickets, Takahisa was making arrangements to have an English speaking guide take us over the castle. A notice in the ticket booth window announced an 'English speaking guide available', but as Takahisa concluded his request, it was turned around to say 'Sorry - no English speaking guide available'. In fact, within a minute we were joined by three guides. The senior guide, Yasutaka Komoto, explained the two people accompanying him were trainees, so as a party of five we moved through the West Bailey. While Himeji Castle itself was constructed as a defensive building, the West Bailey buildings were created to provide accommodation, and the building's most famous incumbent was Princess Sen, who married Tadatoki Honda, the son of Lord Tadamasa Honda. Removing our shoes at the entrance and carrying them in a polythene bag supplied for the purpose, we followed Yasutaka through the long passages past carefully aligned loops for firing at would be attackers, and drop holes for dropping rocks and scalding water on them. As we progressed further through the complex, beyond servants rooms, we reached the Cosmetic Tower where the Princess and her husband lived. As we neared, the rooms became more impressive in size. "These are where the Princesses personal servants lived, but 'servants' is not the right word, I don't know the right word in English," Yasutaka explained. "Ladies in waiting," I suggested, the words fresh in my mind from recently visiting palaces and castles in Britain, and Yasutaka excitedly repeated the term to the two trainees, who wrote it down. Donning our shoes as we re-entered the bailey, Yasutaka explained how the castle precinct was designed using perspective to lure any enemy into the wrong route for access, where they could be trapped and killed. The eaves of the buildings were fascinating and Yasutaka pointed to different roof tiles used by the lords who constructed or rebuilt parts of the castle, decorated with their family crest. While the castle itself is built of timber and white plaster, the castle stands on a huge stone foundation with concave curved buttresses designed to withstand pressure and even earthquakes. Stone used in this foundation, in the defensive walls and in the reinforced gates was purloined from whatever sources could be tapped into. There are stone coffins, stone lanterns and even millstones used as part of the construction material. One of Yasutaka's trainees told me the inspirational story of the peasant woman who contributed her one and only small millstone to the fifteenth lord of the castle, Hideyoshi Hashiba. According to legend, the story spread, and people donated so much stone in response to her sacrifice, that the walls were quickly completed. Yasutaka questioned Takahisa as we visited the kitchens, well house and food storehouses for rice and salt. From the type of questions I had asked, he'd decided I was not a normal Australian or American tourist who might have a more limited knowledge of castles, and was curious to know more about me. Takahisa explained that history and archaeology were special interests of mine and I was returning to Australia from Europe, where he believed I had spent some time visiting historic buildings. Himeji Castle itself is inspiring and beautiful. It is nicknamed the White Heron Castle because of its white walls which are covered with white plaster and its inspiring look. Like other surviving Japanese castles, Himeji Castle is built of wood, not stones, and so fire prevention was very important. As well as the fact that the white plaster has fireproofing capabilities, it was also considered to be a strong reinforcement. Therefore it covers both walls and almost every outside structure from eaves to pillars. The main tower is 46.4 meters high. While from the outside it appears to have five floors, in fact it has six, another devious ploy to fool any would be invader. The castle began by the construction of a fort by Norimura Akamatsu, the ruler of Harima District (Himeji region) in 1333. Later in 1581, a three-storey castle was built by Hideyoshi Toyotomi when the country was in a state of continual conflict. In 1601 Terumasa Ikeda, son-in-law of the Shogun Ieyasu Tokugawa, started rebuilding the castle into a main tower with three small towers, since Himeji was a very important defensive position for the Tokugawa shogunate government. It took Ikeda eight years to complete the reconstruction. As we climbed the staircases from floor to floor, past secret rooms where a small army could surprise invaders that had managed to breach the castle defences thus far, we passed an impressive model of the timbered structure. Between 1956 and 1964 the entire castle was taken to pieces, panel by panel and beam by beam, so that the key support timbers could be replaced, and this model was used as a key for rebuilding. To completely dismantle and then rebuild such a building is awe inspiring. That there was a castle to dismantle is also some sort of miracle, for Himeji Castle was never invaded and damaged by warfare; and while many of Japan's ancient historical sites were damaged or destroyed by allied bombing raids during the Second World War, Himeji Castle fortunately remained unscathed. Our tour of the castle over, we thanked Yasutaka and his two trainees and made our way from the castle grounds past an impressive moat crammed with large and hungry carp which were being fed by visitors. As it was time we ate, Takahisa suggested I try soba noodles, a thin brown buckwheat noodle that is very popular in Japan, and a restaurant specialising in such dishes lay just across the road. The Japanese while enjoying udon and soba noodles hot, also enjoy their noodles cold; and Takahisa's choice for us both was a cold soba noodle dish where the noodles were served on a bamboo mat with a cold broth for dipping. Almost opposite the restaurant, lay Himeji Koko-en a cluster of nine Japanese gardens constructed in 1992 to commemorate the one hundredth anniversary of the establishment of Himeji municipality. The gardens make use of the former site of where Nishi-Oyashiki (the Lord's West Residence) and other samurai houses associated with Himeji Castle, once existed. All of the gardens are designed with rock, water and appropriate plants to emphasise the traditional essence of the Edo period, some with specific seasonal plantings. Several mud walls with roof tiles divide the gardens into their separate themes and were built as replicas of the original walls located there. The water gardens were the most impressive to my way of thinking, because they were packed full of beautiful waterfalls, ponds and rapids, with many of the waterways harbouring large ornamental fish. There were interconnecting pathways leading across the streams via attractive bridges to new surprises and features such as lookouts and niches. Takahisa said he was a little disappointed. The gardens needed more time to develop to their full potential, he suggested. The gardens were certainly suffering from a lack of rain and relied on rain. It had obviously been unseasonably dry because there were no facilities in the gardens to provide the plants with a soaking other than through natural rainfall. The flower garden in particular was a bit of a let-down as we could only find one flower in bloom. One garden, 'Cha-no-niwa', the garden of tea, had an elaborate tea house, where visitors could enjoy an authentic tea ceremony. Takahisa asked me if I would like to experience the tea ceremony and I politely declined. I dislike the taste of tea at the best of times and had already tried green tea and found it even less palatable. Attempting to keep a polite smile on my face while drinking green tea would be tempting fate, and I was determined not to provide an opportunity which might portray my behaviour as offensive. Our final objective for the day was Engyoji Temple which stands on Mt Shosha to the north-west of Himeji. Parking at the foot of the mountain, we took a cable car up the steep mountain side to Niomon the gateway to the complex, where we sounded a beautifully cast gong that resonated with a deep boom, to alert the gods to the fact we were coming. Engyoji Temple was founded over a thousand years ago in 966 by Shoku, a holy Buddhist priest, who received special spiritual enlightenment from Monju, the god of wisdom and intellect. It was on Hakusan, a part of Mt Shosha, that Monju divulged to Shoku that anyone who climbed the mountain would be purified both in body and spirit. This belief soon spread and many people climbed Mt Shosha to beg for divine favours. The holy leaders Kazan and Goshirakawa visited Engyoji Temple to be instructed by Shoku. The Emperor Godaigo also stopped there on his way back from Oki Island. Faith in Mt Shosha increased and prospered rapidly, and so did its reputation as a training centre for priests. The temple is in fact a complex of many buildings some distance from each other located among the primeval forests of Mt Shosha, that generate a very sacred and peaceful atmosphere. While the forest is reputed to be at its best in spring for the wonderful cherry blossoms and autumn for the colored leaves, on a hot summer's day such as the day we visited, the cool shelter of the forest was superb. From Niomon our path climbed to Maninden, the main building among those in the complex, passing dozens of small bronze images representing each of the temples appointed as pilgrimage sites in western Japan. Maninden is dedicated to the goddess of mercy, and while envisaging a celestial nymph worshiping a cherry tree, Shoku was reputed to have been inspired to carve a statue of the goddess of mercy standing on the tree. After that, the building was added. Unfortunately, after surviving for nearly a thousand years, the old building was burnt down in 1921. The construction of the present building was finished in 1932. Engyoji Temple is the twenty-seventh of the thirty-three temples, and even today, thousands of pilgrims visit Maninden to worship and to receive a stamp indicating they have visited Engyoji as part of their pilgrimage. We arrived at Maninden just in time to escape a short afternoon downpour, enough to freshen the air and the forest, but not enough to cause us inconvenience. There were a number of pilgrims receiving their visitor's stamp from an officiating priest, and purchasing and lighting candles in the same way Christians might. In a corner of the temple sat a large wooden Buddha with parts of its body well worn with human touch. It is believed that if you have an affliction, touching the corresponding part of the wooden Buddha will affect a cure. Following the path beyond Maninden past terraces of small Buddha statues dedicated by parents to their still-born children, we arrived at the great auditorium Daikodo. The original building was constructed in 986 at the behest of the holy leader Kazan, who named this temple Engyoji at that time. The auditorium was once the main building on Mt Shosha and was famous as a training centre for priests. The present building was constructed at the beginning of the fifteenth century but like most has been dismantled and reconstructed. Alongside stands Jikido, a priest's training centre and boarding house, and Jogyodo, a training hall where ceremonial music and graceful dances are performed. We returned to Niomon via an alternative path that featured a graceful bronze Buddha and passed several pilgrims on their way to Maninden via a more gentle approach. At Niomon a couple of families were being taken on a tour of the complex by appropriately clad guides who enacted an approach to the temple as might have been experienced in ancient days, complete with less than friendly spirits who might delay the traveller. Beyond Niomon on the way to the chairlift, we paused at murals depicting a story composed by one of Japan's most famous poets, Izumi Shikibu. Izumi Shikibu was the daughter of an eleventh century Japanese provincial governor who cut a conspicuous figure in court literature. With more than fifteen hundred poems attributed to her, she is said to be the most gifted poet of her day. Of particular relevance to Mt Shosha is Izumi Shikibu's supposed encounter with the priest Shoku Shonin on Mt. Shosha, and speculation that the relationship was more than spiritual. For a brief moment as we descended Mt Shosha in the cable car, the view westwards was lit by glorious pink and amber tinges of light that spread its tendrils over the rows of distant hills. It was a brief but amazing spectacle, one that passed too quickly behind a mountain spur as the cable car descended, for me to capture on camera.
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