Naruto, eat your heart out

For my penultimate day, I decided to travel to Iga Ueno, famous home of the Iga ninja clan, on the logic that this timing would let me escape Japan quickly if I inadvertently angered them. While Iga is one of Japan's two greatest ninja schools, its actual location is in a small, unassuming town in the middle of Japanese countryside, achieved via a long and tranquil train journey with many changeovers.

Flat plains, with impressive hills in the background, characterise the Japanese countryside. They make for beautiful views from the train window.

Upon arriving in Iga Ueno (did I mention the many changeovers?), I was promptly issued with a helpful map by the nearby tourist information office worker, and learned that, apart from the Ninja Museum, the town was also home to its very own castle. Or, to be precise, an exact all-wood reconstruction thereof made by a concerned citizen in 1945. The Japanese really are amazing people in some ways.

 

Iga ninja are taught basic capture and retrieval techniques from a young age.

After evading the deadly child ninja, I discovered the Iga Sightseeing Guide Group, a bunch of English-speaking volunteers present for no other purpose than to introduce Westerners to the wonders of Iga Ueno. I was very impressed, and let Tsuuji (physics teacher by day, ninja scholar by weekend) guide me around (though, in the event, I could gather most of what was going on with my own Japanese anyway). He first led me to a ninja show, where ninja re-enactors (some of them with professional TV careers, others aiming for them, and at least one stuntman) demonstrated ninja weapons and techniques in a simultaneously very cool and occasionally humorous way. It is one of the biggest regrets of my life that I didn't have enough memory in my camera to video the whole thing, because all the coolest bits happened too fast to photograph.

Of particular note was the highly enthusiastic sound man, who possessed an excellent sense of timing, such that every sword blow was accompanied with a "swish" or a "clang", and all the combat was punctuated with comically exaggerated noises (mitigated by the fact that the actual fighting looked amazing). I particularly loved the group's sense of humour, from the man whose fake wig was sheared off by a katana blow, only to reveal an even more fake bald patch, to the one who ended up with a blade stuck in a...very inappropriate place, and rewarded the kid who pulled it out for him with a free brochure. And, of course, there was the experience of entering the ninja training grounds, only to be met with the "light-hearted chase sequence" theme from Naruto (one reader at least will know it as the Ramen Delivery Theme). I love it when it feels like the universe is doing something "just for me".

By the way, there was no effective way to photograph this, but the sharpness of the katanas was demonstrated in the traditional way, by soaking straw mats in water until they attained the toughness and consistency of a human neck, and then effortlessly slicing them into shreds. If you ever wondered what those yellow cylinders are that swordsmen practice their slashes on: now you know.

Check that grouping out. The shurikens were thrown in a one-two-three sequence, from a distance you wouldn't believe. Incidentally, shurikens were a poisoned last-resort weapon, so a ninja would only usually carry one (unlike anime).

A ninja scabbard has a long ribbon affixed to it. By placing the scabbard over the end of the katana, and guiding with the ribbon, a ninja can scope out unlit rooms for traps or unseen guards, and get the first strike if necessary. (by the way, if a ninja gets the first strike, no second strike is needed)

 

Travelling ninja would employ many disguises while gathering information, including as entertainers. This one is effortlessly juggling four sickles - commonly available farming tools in rural Japan.He could also embed them several inches into a hardened straw mat from long range.

 

Another trick involves rolling a coin around the top of a parasol. Naturally, the handle contains a deadly blade.

Having paid witness to the revelation of ancient ninja secrets and somehow survived, Tsuuji and I moved on to the star attraction - an authentic ninja house. It is believed to have been used for gunpowder-making, as gunpowder technology was the most closely-guarded secret of medieval Japan, and the ninja its greatest experts. It is designed with both easy escape and swift disposal of invaders in mind, with many false walls, hidden exits and observation rooms, weapons caches and the like. Though only a two-floor house (one floor to an onlooker from outside), it contains enough ninja know-how for a small citadel. Incidentally, now that it works as a museum, all features are helpfully explained with (initially concealed) English signs.

 

Note the abalone shells on the roof - apart from preventing fire and bringing good fortune according to superstition, they also reflect sunlight to blind anyone attempting to spy on the house from a distance.

Finally, my journey brought me to the museum section, accessible through a hidden underground passage from the main house. Here, extensive dual-language notices accompanied the greatest collection of ninja equipment in the world (allegedly) as well as extensive information on the history and life of the ninja.

 

Examples of the various classic ninja disguises, from priest to farmer to entertainer. For example, priests often wore long-brimmed hats which could helpfully disguise one's face, while entertainers' musical instruments could easily be replaced with concealed-weapon ones (which, remarkably, could still make the desired sounds).

Blue Peter presenters, hang your heads in shame as the Iga ninja turn four ordinary sickles and a rope into a perfect grappling hook.

 

An arsenal of ninja lockpicks. Similarly-sized implements also existed for sealing doors to prevent guards from entering.

Portable sconces could be quickly wedged into walls to provide illumination.

 

Classic ninja claws, useful both for climbing and for combat.

 

The ninja katana, unlike a samurai katana, has a straight blade in order to penetrate samurai armour. Note also the square hilt - this can be used to turn the sword into a stepping stone for wall-climbing. Afterwards, the ninja retrieves it using the ribbon attached to the scabbard, and no evidence remains.

 

Pursuit-slowing caltrops could be made not only from metal, but also from a certain easily-available kind of plant.

 

Shuriken come in a great variety of shapes and sizes, allowing for individual customisation and...yeah, I have no idea why there are so many kinds. This set doesn't even scratch the surface.

Did I mention that the ninja were Japan's elite gunpowder experts? Such was their prowess with rifles, pistols and a grand variety of grenade-type tools that after their information-gathering and assassination services were no longer called for in more peaceful times, they effortlessly made the transition into marksman corps.

 

But ninja do even guns in style. The above knife is actually a ready-to-fire pistol.

 

A very brief sampler of anti-ninja defences used in samurai houses.

 

A ninja lantern, stabilised so that the candle remains upright no matter how you hold it. 

 

Yes, ninja lunchboxes long predate Naruto merchandising  Their shape was curved so as to stick close to the ninja's body.

 

In case you ever doubted that ninja were incredible in every possible way.

 

It is reassuring to know that I have the ideal build for a ninja. Now if only I actually had strength and fitness too. And someone to train me. By the way, did you know all ninja were vegetarian?

The tree of ninja history encompasses many unexpected sources, including the mysticism of mountain hermits and Sun Tzu's The Art of War.

After an exciting and action-filled chase sequence which I am sadly unable to describe here, I escaped the ninja's domain with my photos (which include many secrets I have not posted on this blog). Thereafter, a charming woman from the Sightseeing Group, whose name I have sadly forgotten (it ends in "ko", but that goes for 70% of Japanese women), guided me around Ueno Castle.

As castles go, it was pretty but ultimately underwhelming. After the fascinating history of Osaka and the towering grandeur of Himeji, it was...just a castle. Still, it had a few decent items of historical interest.

Ueno Castle moat. Ninja scale this sort of thing before breakfast, as light exercise.

The castle itself. By now you will have noted a number of structural and aesthetic similarities.

This sacred helmet bestows upon its wearer the terrible power of the usagi or Japanese rabbit.

Samurai armour, heavy and many-layered but ultimately highly effective against anything short of a ninja. Actually, it begs the question of why samurai and ninja blades differ, given that both were designed for use on samurai.

Samurai helmets were the obvious way to identify one's liege on the battlefield, as well as handy status symbols.

The jitte, though used by ninja among others, became popular during the Tokugawa era as policemen's batons due to their usefulness in disarming swordsmen.

 

This tiny thing is a full-size carriage, of the sort used by travelling nobility. I can't believe anyone can ride it without intense claustrophobia.

 

A rare close-up shot of the elusive Mystery Castle Fish. 

Formal clothing belonging to the castle's masters. Note the family crest, a vital part of Japanese formalwear to this day (kimono-wise, at least).

 

Bonus Japanese gargoyles decorated the castle parapets.

 

Medieval noblewomen's hair decorations.

View from the top of Ueno Castle. I love views from high places, as I may have mentioned before.

 

The remarkable man who rebuilt the castle received paintings from some of Japan's most prominent artists as gifts. In particular, the painting of the full moon is worth several zillion yen if sold. Since the top floor was deserted, this picture was taken lying on the floor looking up, as my guide suggested. It was a deeply peaceful experience (plus I got to break unwritten rules and get away with it).

 

A friend of my guide's is a maker of this traditional style of Kansai pottery. Its organic imperfection is characteristic of Japanese aesthetics.

  

Apparently, shaping an item like this one takes minutes. Completing the baking and glazing process takes weeks.

And finally, some miscellaneous observations from my journey back:

This mural of a mysterious ninja train was hanging in the train station.

 

The money obtained from this vending machine is used to support the Kunoichi (female ninja), Iga Ueno's football team.

The train station platform. Residents really do take their heritage seriously.

 

Sadly, most of you will not be able to appreciate the weirdness of Cheburashka, Soviet Russia's hit puppet animation TV series star, appearing on posters encouraging quiet on public transport in rural Japan. Apparently, the series is still well-known here. And was that Japanese schoolgirl really in the original series?

 

On the topic of animation and sponsorship, here is Detective Conan from Case Closed promoting a clue-gathering trip to local tourist sites. If only other countries took their anime so seriously...

  

The less giant but oddly cute spiders of Iga Ueno say hi. I am starting to wish that there was a greater variety of indigenous wildlife for me to snap. Oh, but wait until the next instalment...

 

And finally, a profound philosophical statement on the non-existence of barriers in the face of true determination.

Next time on "All In The Name of Science": the sacred mountains of Buddhism, hot springs, and the journey's death-defying conclusion.

The castle where eternity dwells

Today, Himeji Castle. Said to be Japan's finest. I set out way too early in the morning to beat the crowds, only partially succeeded, and spent the whole day being totally exhausted. However, as castles go, it was pretty decent - I just wish I'd gone earlier instead of leaving it until what turns out to be Silver Week - a consecutive five days of rest during which the Japanese swarm over places of sightseeing interest.

This mysterious monument greets visitors leaving the station. There was an explanatory plaque, but anyone without exceptional vision would have had to stand in the middle of a busy road to read it. More on the Himeji nudity fetish later.

One positive feature of Himeji is that getting from the station to its star attraction is easy - they are connected by a huge and unmissable main street. On the other hand, said street is also criss-crossed by many roads, and traffic means it takes a while to traverse.

The Japanese excel at service, to the point where it can sound slightly creepy.

The main street is lined with a variety of statues and pieces of modern art. Here we see the return of Osaka's mystery fish.

Himeji Castle south moat. It is an extremely well-fortified castle, and guidance inside generally glosses over the fact that none of these features have ever been used in battle.

The castle itself, sometimes nicknamed "Shirasagi" or "White Heron" Castle for its beautiful white appearance.

Apart from general awesomeness, a key advantage to Himeji Castle is that it is one of Japan's few original historical buildings - it miraculously avoided both natural disaster and WWII bombing, and apart from basic preservation work is still in its original form. Really, much of what you see there speaks for itself, in terms of an overall feel as much as specific sightseeing spots. Conversely, try though those who run it might, its history just isn't that interesting - it was never besieged, and when it was conquered at the end of the Tokugawa era, it wasn't by conventional warfare. Ultimately, its timeline is little more than a long list of the people who lived there, and the ways they fortified it if they did.

The gate through which I entered. Note combination of practicality and aesthetics - this characterises Himeji Castle.

At the entrance to the West Bailey, a sign shows an edge of exasperation with ignorant tourists.

The West Bailey, with its wonderfully named "Cosmetic Tower" (a more thoughtful translation inside amends this to "Tower of Vanity", but too late) held the women's quarters, being built using the dowry of Princess Sen when she married into the family then ruling the castle. As one of the two key indoor sites, there was over half an hour of queueing just to get in - in the early morning. This, however, did not prepare me for what was to come later.

Inside, most of the bailey was occupied by the Long Corridor, which had windows and defenses on one side and women's quarters (mainly for ladies-in-waiting) on the other. It was quite repetitive, though the authenticity helped. A few rooms contained informative signs - there were queues to get in and out of these.

Himeji Castle roof tiles, each stamped with the family crest of the clan that had donated them.

Clearly, the author of this explanatory notice was unfamiliar with the concept of a harem.

The door itself. Whether it was really meant to keep people out or in is anyone's guess now.

One of the rooms. They were all identical, and disappointingly bare - while this is more authentic in a way, I can't help feeling that just a little replica furniture would have done wonders for the atmosphere.

A hole for dropping rocks, arrows or bullets on the heads of opportunistic invaders. There were many of these, and they blended wonderfully with the overall decor - which is deliberate.

A shot of the inner castle grounds as seen from the Cosmetic Tower. It seems remarkably peaceful, and nice for walks.

A replica, based on extant paintings, of Lady Sen playing a game with a lady-in-waiting and bonus cat. Apparently, she was a smoker, and the records seem to indicate that she enjoyed her life in the tower.

Having finished my tour of that particular building, I gradually moved on to the main keep. When I say gradually, let me put it another way. When I come back to Himeji with my girlfriend, I will leave her at the entrance to explore, and start building an equally grand castle of my own, starting with the fundraising process. There is a good chance I will be done before she is. That is how long the queue for the main keep was around noon (never mind the lesser queueing inside). We are literally talking hours, and a number of visitors that any warlord would give his right hand to have as an army.

I passed the time by reading my Naruto manga with a dictionary, as well as chatting to two very kind Japanese women, Ayumi and Ritsuko, who had brought their children to see the castle. They even kept my place in the queue while I went to sit down on a bench next to said kids (which may or may not have saved me from falling where I stood; cumulative exhaustion plus hours of standing still = bad). I am rather embarrassed that, even though I spent approximately half of eternity in the line, I still didn't get even halfway through the manga.

The well above conceals a sad tale. A maid named Kiku, lover of one the castle's retainers, learned of a plot by the chief retainer to assassinate the castle's lord. She informed her lover, and the plot was foiled, but in revenge the chief retainer stole one of the castle's ten precious ornate dishes, and accused her of the crime. Being the person in charge, he then had her executed by throwing her body into the well. Ever since, castle residents reported hearing a woman's voice coming from the well in the dead of night, counting "one dish, two dishes, three dishes..." until at last her spirit was placated by enshrining her as a goddess in her own shrine.

 

Himeji Castle, towering view. Unseen below is a queue the very mass of which distorts time and space. Perhaps this is the key to the castle's remarkable preservation?

 

Inside the castle at last, one is reminded early on that warfare in Japan evolved over the course of the centuries. Guns and Christianity were the West's key early exports into Japan; of these, Christianity did not flourish.

 

 The castle is filled with tiny doorways leading into hidden rooms whence samurai could emerge to surprise invaders. In peacetime they doubled as storerooms which made use of every inch of the castle's space. You can judge for yourself how ingeniously they were concealed.

 I privately suspect that the reason for castles as a physical expression of political power over many hundreds of years had less to do with strategic value and more with the ability of warlords to enjoy views like this on a daily basis.

 This shrine was originally removed from the grounds to make room for the castle, but a variety of storms, earthquakes and other natural disasters soon persuaded the builders to replace it - now on the top floor of the keep. Needless to say, once the spirits were appeased, the disasters ceased.

 While the original design for a castle made out of matchsticks appealed greatly to the Imperial Treasury, fire safety regulations caused it to be relegated to Plan B.

 

Plan A, on the other hand, gives some sense of how far the castle's reach stretched beyond the grounds of the main keep.

 According to legend, the original builder of the castle was struggling due to lack of stone for materials, until a poor local woman donated her only millstone for the project, inspiring a wave of similar donations from the townspeople. The millstone is now part of this particular wall, but sadly it was not indicated as to which stone.

 This wall is notable for being made from oil and sand, rather than more conventional stone. It has stood for over 300 years, and is apparently tough as...well...stone.

 Every now and again, the linguistic limitations of the Japanese generate signs that are practically spiritual in their impact. A better example will come at Mount Hiei.

 

 An interior view of Himeji Castle. It loses none of its beauty close up.

 These 4th Century stone coffins were discovered as part of the materials making up the interior walls. I bet there are archaeologists who daydream about that sort of thing when they need cheering up.

 

The brave defenders of Himeji Castle's moat.

 Having been permitted to leave by the terrible overseers of Himeji Castle's outer defenses (see above), I decided to visit one more place - Koko-en Garden - before going home. In the event, I almost didn't make it, due to a combination of extreme tiredness and arrows which pointed in directions completely unrelated to the garden itself (as well as no clarification, whether in onsite maps or in LP, that it was in fact off the castle grounds). I'm glad I persevered, though.

   

This large, flat rock has been converted into a gentle fountain so elegantly that it doesn't initially occur to the viewer that rocks are unlikely to produce water naturally.

Nevertheless, I decided to compromise with my tiredness by having lunch at Koko-en's built-in restaurant, which serves a variety of overpriced meals in front of an excellent view of one of the ponds, complete with many koi. Sadly, glass screens rather interrupted the directness of the experience. After a wait, I did my best to avoid the local speciality - grilled conger eel - but fate declared otherwise as anything I actually wanted to eat had just run out. Clearly, I was doomed to new experiences.

 On the art of presentation: my order in its initial form.

 

 For the curious: grilled conger eel, miso soup and all-but-compulsory palate-cleansing pickles.

The eel actually tasted better than a lot of the fish I'd eaten before (though I feel it is one of those foods best not combined with chopsticks), but there was a certain disadvantage which might only be appreciated by other vegetarians. Namely, attempting to enjoy the eel while watching a number of koi swimming happily in the pond outside, and being intensely aware that I was eating something that might well have been, a few hours ago, swimming just as happily in its own home, and was now dead on a plate in front of me, with a presumably violent transition between the two states.

Moving on to the rest of Koko-en, it comprised a series of gardens, each once belonging to one of the castle's samurai retainers. They were varied thematically, such as evergreen gardens, gardens of plants grown during the Tokugawa period and so forth.

A small waterfall. To me, one of the best things about traditional Japanese gardens is their use of water.

Unseen beneath the surface are countless koi.

 A small display of bonsai trees. Playing God has never been so much fun.

[realtime note] I'm typing up the rest of this while at home and besieged by a cold, so apologies for the occasionally negative tone. That said, it helps me emulate some of the tiredness I was feeling that day, so every cloud has a silver lining.

Small bridges such as this are an eternal challenge for the ambitious photographer, as they tend to swarm with tourists.

 

While I have little interest in flowers, the occasional specimen can be worth a closer look.

One of the less expected attractions of Koko-en included their display of miniature gardens made out of clay tiles. This is as unusual an art form in Japan as I imagine it is elsewhere, and there was some writing about its philosophical implications (being made from the earth, retaining the heat of the sun etc.) which, to be honest, I couldn't take very seriously. The more successful of the pieces struck me as things of beauty which could speak for themselves, and bonus layers of theory only got in the way.

 

Since murder is still illegal in Japan, I could do nothing about the man lying on the bench to the left. I note, by the way, that sleeping stretched out in public places like this is one of the things only Westerners in Japan ever did. The only Japanese I saw doing it were a couple of drunk, unkempt-looking old men (in trains).

 "Garden of Moonlight and Tile"

"Garden of Abiding Love". The symbol is "love" in kanji form.

 

Garden of Abiding Love, full-scale view.

The building on the left is a teahouse. Every tree and rock in this garden has allegedly been placed in accordance with strict ritualistic requirements.

 

Note the slightly different colours of the walls  - these tell you which samurai lived within.  A servant could pay with their life for mistaking the wrathful Slightly Sandy Brown Samurai for the laid-back Light Brown Samurai.

 

The incipient autumn foliage makes for some nice varietis of colour.

 

In certain parts of the ponds, one comes to feel that "swarm" is a more appropriate collective noun for koi than "school".

A tree. Judge for yourselves.

The current of this shallow river creates a wonderful shimmering effect as it speeds along its way while fundamentally staying still.

All Japanese people practically rave about the beauty of the country in late autumn, at least to tourists. Perhaps this is a sneak preview.

 

Fortunately for adventurers, Japan contains very few gazebos. Koko-en is something of an exception.

 Koko-en's miniature giant bamboo forest.

 

These signs warn that most of Himeji City is a non-smoking area. I love them for the alarmed samurai.

 

This is the kind of English advertising copy one comes to expect after a week or two in Japan. The shop sells long-sleeved kimonos.

 

And finally, Himeji's nudist fetish. Statues of naked men and women,.with no explanation, were everywhere. This one had a surreal inscription along the lines of "let's walk around while wearing a hat". No mention of the nudity.

Bonus shot A: today, Taruto and his cage were left outside Haruka's room while she battled with recalcitrant wallpaper. Thus, finally an opportunity to photograph him with no chance of escape.

Bonus shot B: Taruto in all his Bengal glory. His behaviour is certainly predatory enough to earn the approval of his tiger namesakes.