Osaka-jo. The Fate of the Toyotomi and Tourists

3rd November, 2006 - With a heavy heart we set out, our last day in Japan - though we didn't know how long. After a short side trip to Yodobashi's to pick up some last minute deals (actually Sapporo was better for prices than Osaka), we arrived at the last stop on our journey. Osaka-jo. The great white shark of Japanese tourist attractions. When you come out of the subway station, it stands high above the surrounding landscape... dominating the skyline.


Yet the outer defences have a feel of quietness as compared to the main keep's brashness. In spring the cherry blossoms define the perimeter, but there were no falling blossoms to greet us this afternoon.

The castle of Osaka was constructed in on the site of Ishiyama Hongan-ji (constructed in the 11th century), next to the ruins of the former capital Naniwa-kyo. The powerful temple was surrended to Oda Nobunaga in 1580, and Toyotomi Hideyoshi started construction of the castle proper in 1583.

Rokuban yagura...

After the death of Hideyoshi in 1598, Tokugawa Ieyasu (one of Hideyoshi's chief supporters) was given responsibility to look after Hideyoshi's son, Hideyori. Following Ieyasu's success in the Battle of Sekigahara in which he established his domination over all of Japan, he was given the title of Shogun. Ieyasu had other plans that did not include the possibility of a competing Toyotomi claim on the prize of a unified Japan; and psuedo-kingship. That right would surely be better placed in a Tokugawa lineage - and that meant no room for doubt. The time had come for Ieyasu to grasp history by the throat. Hideyori, as the living embodiment to Hideyoshi's greatness, had to die. Whilst Hideyori had no desire for ruling Japan - this did not mean that his supporters would go quietly, and in the space of 15 years, Japan would once more be pushed into civil calamity. During the final chapter, in which the pro-Toyotomi forces faced off the pro-Tokugawa forces, Osaka-jo was to be the fateful backdrop.

The Main Keep

By the time that Ieyasu struck, he had already abdicated his role of Shogun to his son (in 1605), thus commencing the Tokugawa reign over Japan...The first campaign in 1614 failed to be decisive, but it lead instead to a begrudging compliance by the Hideyori's followers. As part of that cease-fire agreement, the moat of Osaka-jo was filled in - thus providing a fatal chink in it's protective armour. Yet tension once again rose in 1615 and the two armies once fired into action, culminating in the battle of Tenno-ji in which the 70,000+ strong army of Hideyori took on the 165,000 strong army of Hidetata (Ieyasu's son and current shogun). The wheel of fate turned and in the end the Tokugawa army prevailed and in the resulting retreat the castle was destroyed. Hideyori at the age of 22 commited suicide, along with his mother Yodogimi,  rather than be captured. The remaining family members were captured - and they suffered the fate often meted out to the losers... they were killed. This included Hideyori's 8 year old son, Kunimatsu, who was beheaded. His daughter was the only survivor, who went on to become an abbotess at Tōkei-ji in Kamakura.
The action of Ieyasu was to cement the power of the Tokugawa for the next 250 years.

The castle was almost completely destroyed during the 1615 siege, and then reconstructed in 1620 – only to be destroyed again in 1655 by lightning. The castle again featured in history of the demise of the Tokugawa's when it was razed rather than fall into the pro-imperial forces in 1868. It was then rebuilt in 1931... and we all know how that turned out. Not well for Osaka-jo.

What was left of the castle was destroyed in WWII and the building today is an external replica only (the interior being a small windowless bunker-of-a-museum). And a busy museum at that. The line up to enter can be long... and once your in, you realise that the line-up doesn't stop at the front door. The real queue is for the elevator that takes you direct to the observation deck. We took one look at the queue and decided to take the stairs (and enjoy the museum as we went). Unfortunately no camera's aloud inside the museum... but my honest opinion is that unless you're really into the history Osaka-jo, you might be a little disappointed. That doesn't mean that there not interesting things there - just don't have high expectations. There's little sense (at least for english speakers) of the real history that infuses the stones and timber (and now concrete) of Osaka-jo.

The view from the observation deck is quite startling however, and you can start to appreciate just how important these castles were. Not necessarily for their fortress-like protection (aka European castles)... because clearly they didn't provide much protection at all... but rather as a symbol of power and dominance. To sit perched above the rest of the domain must have been an impressive feeling. Whilst the castle stood.

Shachihoko ornament atop the observation level of the Osaka-jo

Nowawdays, this power is manifest in different ways, and by different people. Yet still we hold to the belief that height gives a commanding position over those that surround us. Now however, we build our castles out of glass.

The view from Osaka-jo

Ah - if I was shogun for a day, things would be different. Free Mister Donuts for all, and cherry blossoms all year round... and while I'm about it, how about an extra 12 months on my holidays.

There's no doubt that Osaka-jo is a must-see attraction in Osaka... but if you've seen the real thing (like Himeji-jo) you might be a little disappointed. Still, that's part of the fun of holidays - and different cultures - it's not what is disappointing, but the fun and excitement of discovering new things (good or bad). And there was a great festive atmosphere to the castle that made it an extra enjoyable experience.


As the sun sank slowly closer to the horizon, we knew that it was setting also on our holiday. With heavy hearts, bodies weary from two weeks of constant adventure, and heads full of amazing memories we made our way back to the hotel - and then on to the airport.

Osaka-jo is a strange symbol of Japan... history fused with the modern. Japan is rarely what it appears from the outside - and every time you feel you know it, and it's people, a bit better... you discover you only know a bit more of the mystery.

Himeji-jo... The Caged Bird

30th October, 2006 - The day was fine, and we were on a long anticipated trip to Himeji - the sister city of my home town of Adelaide, way back in Australia (not that I was expecting the red-carpet or anything). Himeji is famous for a number of things, but one above all else. Himeji-jo - the castle of Himeji is also known by the name of the White Heron or White Egret Castle.

And that's what we were going to see...

We approached Himeji-jo on foot. Yes, you can catch a bus to go the 800m from the train station if you really want to, but I'd recommend taking in the approach on foot. My first impression was one of surprise at how dominating the castle is. It's huge. The moat that surrounds the castle is impressive... then again, in many areas of Japan, the moats freeze over in winter (not sure about here in Himeji). The size of castle grounds inside the moat is also impressive... with the main compound about 600x400m in size. Much of this is open park-land.

Moat around Himeji-jo

Of course, it's not long before you realise that you are in a tourist trap. Ok - I admit it... I'm an idiot. At least when confronted by historically costumed people. I can't help but to act like a goofy tourist. I suppose I should be thankful that I'm at least not always a tourist hehehe....

Not my wife.... in case you were wondering....

Also not my wife....

As you can see... I'm not easily embarrassed (and also not overly dignified). In my defence... this was quite a few years ago, and I've clearly matured since then.... er... yes... like a fine wine.

Himeji lies a short distance west of Kyōto, in a strategic location between east and west Honshū. There have been fortifications around the area of Himeji since after the Kamakura period.

The pre-cursor castle was constructed in the sixteenth century by Toyotomi Hideyoshi, then expanded by Ikeda Terumasa (as a gift from his father-in-law, Tokugawa Ieyasu... thanks dad!).  There's almost nothing left of the original Toyotomi construction however except for some of the earthworks. When the castle was being constructed, such was the need for stone that nearby temples and even the towns’ rice mills were being used as construction materials. "We all gotta make sacrifices... and when I mean all, I mean you people..."

There are few if any castles in Japan that can rival Himeji for it's state, or beauty. It's one of three quintessential castles, the other two being the Crow Castle in Matsumoto (in Nagano prefecture) and Kumamoto Castle (Kumamoto prefecture). It is almost certainly the most recognizable Japanese castle - even if most people don't know where it is.

Yet, there's more than the main keep to admire. The keep is surrounded by a series of walls and gateways, all designed to impede attacking forces whilst they are being assailed from protected positions within the fortifications.

Nowadays, they make for a scenic approach to the keep, although one might still imagine the clatter of armour and steel as samurai and foot-soldiers alike ran headlong into battle. Thankfully, there weren't too many battles fought here and hence the castle remained in relatively good condition. Rumour has it that one reason why the castle survived through WWII was that it was used as a navigation point for bombing raids by Allied planes.... that could be an urban legend however.

You can also follow a guided tour in the buidlings that surround the castle, where you will see a little more of what life was like living in the castle, and hear some of the ghost stories as well. Not to mention the strange variation of the shell-game that they played back in those days.... now can you guess where the pea is?!?!

One of the amazing things about Himeji-jo is the more recent history. Following the Meiji Restoration, the castle had fallen into significant disrepair and castles were not exactly the in-thing anymore. In fact in 1871 the castle was put up for auction and sold for 23 yen... or about 2,500USD in today's money. Now that was a good buy! It was going to be destroyed for land re-development, but that turned out to be too expensive so it was allowed to survive until it was renovated in 1910 and then again in 1956 (at the cost of about 5 million USD).

One of the unexpected sights for us was found in the inner keep gardens. Even though it was near the end of October, we found these beautiful blooms... as if we'd stepped through a hole in time and were here in Spring. I believe these are Shikizakura (four seasons sakura) which actually bloom twice a year - once in March/April and then again in October/November). They were an unexpected delight.

I love these sorts of places, where you can gain a sense of humankinds struggle to master not only each other but nature as well.

One interesting feature of castle designs is the use of strange fish-shaped ornaments (shown above and below) which are known as shachihoko. Shachihoko are mythical creatures that are a composite of carp and dragon. It seems to come from Chinese tradition (known as chiwen). We've seen examples of the Chinese version in a post about Yokohama's Chinatown. When placed on a roof (as an ornament) it's known as a shibi. The roof ornament is thought to protect against fires and typhoons... and this may have some root in fact in terms of lightning strikes (just my crazy theory).

One of the Shachihoko ornaments

The castle is some six levels high (46m); with the view from the top level of the donjon providing a perfect vantage point for the lands and city around. It's an awe-inspiring sight, even if you're not keen on heights. One warning however, as you get to higher levels in the castle, the stairs get steeper and steeper until they effectively become ladders. Access to the upper levels is therefore a little difficult.

The castle was built on the site of a Shintō shrine, which was moved prior to construction. Following a series of natural disturbances however, it was viewed to have been bad-luck, and the Shinto shrine was then moved back to the top level of the castle. It's an odd thing to see, standing in the centre of the small room at the top of the castle (no photos as it's a sacred area).

The main keep of Himeji-jo

Close up of the top level.

The earthworks and defences around the castle are extensive, and it's a great place to explore. The castle has plenty of grisly tales however... and it had it's fair share of executions and ill-fated deaths...

One of the best places to view the castle is from across the internal moat/lake known as the Three County Moat... which was also used as a water supply during sieges. There were actually three moats surrounding the castle but the largest was filled in long ago.

The "Three County Moat"

 Unfortunately as I write this blog today, Himeji-jo is being progressively obscured behind a cage of metal. It's brilliance slowly being obscured by a giant shed... and I do mean a shed. Below is a mock-up of what it should look like when the rennovation is in full swing... and this is not a joke. This is taken from the official Himeji website. Those crazy Japanese don't do things by halves.

Plan of Himeji-jo during renovation work set to finish in 2014

The rennovation commenced in 2009, with the castle being closed earlier this year. It will remain closed until 2014, so there's a long wait now if you really, really want to see the castle. If you want to see progress of the rennovation - check out here... or here for a live webcam view

Ah - Himeji-jo... you may be a tourist trap, but at least you're a GREAT tourist trap. It was definitely one of the highlights of our trip and I feel sorry that people will have to wait till 2014 to see it again in all of it's glory. I feel very lucky to have seen it when I did... and will almost certainly come back. It is Adelaide's sister-city after all!

Nijo-jo... A Castle in Waiting...

23rd October, 2006 - We had one major destination today... Nijo-jo... the Tokugawa "castle" within Kyōto. It's not a castle, in the typical Japanese sense (the 5 storied donjon was burnt down in 1750, and not re-built). indeed, I'd be inclined to call it a walled villa these days. It is however an important cultural centre of the city - though the Tokugawa influence was largely exerted on Kyōto from a distance.





 Nijō castle (Nijō-jo) was constructed by Ieyasu Tokugawa after his success at the battle of Sekigahara in 1600. Historically, it was Ieyasu’s powerbase in Kyōto, when he was away from his Kanto homeland. He was proclaimed as the Shogun here in 1603, during his first stay at the partially completed castle. Visits to Kyōto became increasingly rare however as Edo (unofficially) took over the role of capital. He did not return until 1611.

His successor used the castle again in 1624-26 though no Shogun came to Kyōto again from 1634 until 1863 (the sunset of the Tokugawa era). Nijō-jo is however more ceremonial than castle-like, with minimal defences. As such it was meant to impress by opulence rather than by sheer brute force.

The main building within the castle grounds is now the Ninomaru Palace (below). The Palace actually consists of five buildings, each of which was lavishly decorated, and each progressively higher as they move to the inner sanctums of shogun’s world. The first, outer, rooms are decorated more with fearsome (martial) motifs, whilst the inner rooms are decorated in more soothing sophisticated patterns.

The Ninomaru Palace is also famous for it’s nightingale floors which are designed in such a way (sophisticated cantilevered woodwork) as to squeak when walked upon. Unfortunately no cameras allowed inside the palace. The floors - well they do indeed squeak... We should rememeber just how old this building is - and how amazing the craft involved. It would be interesting to imagine the household members sneaking off for a bit of no-good in the quiet of the night.

The gardens of Ninomaru, which are over an acre in size, date back to 1624, and were designed for an imperial visit. Originally the garden was intended to remain unchanged through the seasons, and thus was originally without trees.

Nowadays however, it is based on popular go-round style. The garden centerpiece is a quarter-acre-sized pond, containing three islands – though it was thought to have originally been intended as a dry pond.

The gardens are not spectacular in the sense of many of the gardens in Kyōto, but they have a quiet solidity that suggests permanence and not having to be unduly flashy.

The complex has a double moat; the Ninomaru Palace is the centre-piece of the outer region, and the Honmaru Palace the same for the inner region. 

As Ieyasu had done previously he had elements of his predecessor (Hideyoshi) - including his buildings - dismantled and re-located. Hideyoshi’s Fushimi-jo furnished many of the temples and landmarks around the city with outstanding "additions", including Nijō-jo.

As mentiond, the donjon (or central keep) was destroyed in 1750 when struck by lightning, and the Palace was subsequently burnt down in 1788. The present Honmaru Palace (below) dates from 1847, and was actually the residence of Prince Katsura from Kyōto Gosho which was moved in 1893 when the Imperial family moved to Tōkyō.

I called it the Castle in Waiting - for about 230 years it was a castle without it's lord...Indeed the shogun's return was simply to resign the power of Japan back to the Imperial throne in 1867, dismantling forever the power of the Tokugawa line.


Atop the outcropping, you get a good view of the grounds of Nijō-jo and city beyond. It's not what we had imagined, but was definitely a good experience (though it had been a few spots of rain). I loved the gardens, and it was fun walking inside the Ninomaru Palace with those famous nightingale floors... crying out for their long gone masters, destined never to return.