Look familiar?
If so, you’re probably thinking it’s the Tsukimi Turret of Takamatsu castle. And, you’d be right.

And… If it looks very familiar, you’re probably thinking that there is something not quite right with this picture. And again, you would be right.

Rest assured, this is (pretty much) how it has looked throughout its life. From 1676 to the present.

Look familiar?
Perhaps you saw something similar not a moment ago.

And… If you were to visit Takamatsu castle, what is pictured to the right is what you’d actually see.

In addition to the horizontal bars there are arrow-slots, a window & a stone-throwing window. Purdy, ain’t she?

Check out the Takamatsu City official website.

Could I interest you in some more examples?

• Those massive sweeping arcs of Kokura castle‘s irimoya gables give the main tower a sophisticated look. Much more so than the lego-esque original.
• Tsu‘s three story turret had six gables added. It was once most blocky.
• The location of Iwakuni‘s main tower was moved so as it could be seen from the photogenic Kintai-kyō bridge below.

Do you know of any other examples? I’d love to hear them.

So, what’s the deal?
It’s simple, the sexy versions are more appealing. We all buy into Japanese castles… refined elegance… traditional… image. But, it seems they are no different that the models on the covers of magazines. Airbrushed, perfected.

The concrete reconstructions, I’m less concerned with. But, when it comes to Important Cultural Properties, such as the Tsukimi turret above: Hands off!

Who’s with me?

Jin’ya?
Castle in Japanese – 城, represented a lot of things. It ranged from something massive and modern like Nagoya or Himeji castles right down to the simplest of stockade, which is probably now nothing more than a site marker in the form of a post in the ground.

It is a little confusing then, that there was a particular type of fortification that served many of the same functions as any large, Edo-period castle but was instead known as a Jin’ya. Well, just to be clear, they would never have been able to withstand any sustained assault but it was from within their offices that the domain was administered, just like at the larger castles.

…Jin’ya??
Jin’ya, written as 陣屋, can be a little tricky to translate. Depending on your source, the following words may pop up: Magistrate’s office, Encampment, Government house, etc…

Generally, Jin’ya were located in domains valued up to 30,000 koku – which is what Wikipedia says. According to a recent book purchase though, it seems there were plenty of domains valued over the 30,000-koku figure. Akizuki Jin’ya in Fukuoka Prefecture for example, was valued at 50,000 koku at one point. And, I’m not having a go at Wikipedia’s contributers. To be honest, the average koku value does tend to hover around the 30,000 mark.

Jin’ya were found all over Japan, and in rather large numbers. Many were built on land held by the Tokugawa Shogunate and others were set-up by Daimyo as mini-domains within their own borders. Some were even established at decommissioned castles. Nagayama Jin’ya in Oita prefecture to name just one.

Akizuki Jin’ya / Jō
Depending on which resource you refer to, the H.Q. of a certain Kuroda Nagaoki (third son of Kuroda Nagamasa) in 1623 was Akizuki castle (秋月城) or Akizuki Jin’ya (秋月陣屋). Whatever its label, let’s have a look at how it may have once looked:

Akizuki Jin'ya

The rear & the side defences cannot clearly be understood viewing this scale model. After refering to my field notes, those three sides were inaccessable due to a creek & embankments. Along the front however is a moat, several multi-story turrets & a main gate. Perhaps it also isn’t so clear but their are two enclosures. One containing the offices and an “L” shaped horse stable. The other presumably containing the lord’s residence.

In conclusion
So, there you have it folks. I hope I’ve been able to clear up what a Jin’ya is and isn’t. In the end, I’m not so sure if I have. Suffice it to say, It’s a Jin’ya if it says it’s a Jin’ya.

Behold, the lord's throne

The plumbing of Japanese castles isn’t exactly a commonly talked about topic. Given that there are a great many and more agreeable things to talk about, this probably comes as no surprise. If you keep reading, perhaps you’ll come to agree that there are points worthy of your interest & discussion.

Lifting the lid
On a recent visit to Kokura castle I was somewhat surprised to see a traditional squater on display. Some people refer to this type as the bobsled. It features a “T” handle to keep your balance in the event of the big one striking or even an earthquake. There is also a lid (which I presume was left up.)

Well, perhaps the lid wasn’t left up. A gaping hole in the floor is a potentially dangerous thing. It’s not that hard to imagine a drunken samurai putting his foot through or even losing hold of his mobile phone or keys down there.

Dark brown bowls
… could be used to describe Bizen-yaki, a popular regional style of pottery. But this wouldn’t be a fair description because they’ve also produced vases, cups and even, would you believe, the toilet bowls of Japan’s most celebrated castle, that of Himeji. The waste was delivered courtesy of gravity where it decelerated rapidly about a foot (300mm) from one’s bottom, even less if no-one got around to emptying it.

Everyone has heard of Kabuki, right? Even for people without a particular interest in Japan would know Kabuki is a type of traditional Japanese theatre where beautifully-costumed performers sing & dance to tell a story. Despite living in Japan for over nine years, I don’t know a great deal more than this. It’s just not my cup of cha.

What motivated me to at least check Wikipedia for some background information about Kabuki was the fact that there is a type of Japanese gate also called Kabuki. Let’s break it down.

• Kabuki (theatre) is written as 歌舞伎, with each Chinese character representing Sing, Dance & Skill respectively.
• Kabuki (gate) is written as 冠木. The first character means best or peerless, the second means wood.

As you can now see, the two Kabuki’s are unrelated. This now-obvious bombshell has left me somewhat disappointed. Anyway, moving right along. What does this Kabuki gate actually look like? A picture would quickly put us out of our misery but let me first try to explain. Let’s look at the word “little”, after writing e, you would go back & cross the two t‘s, which I believe is common practice to do in one stroke. That’s what the gate looks like – those two crossed t‘s.

more Japanese gates.

In today’s post we’re going to clear up one of the more confusing aspects of Japanese castle roofs. Before I go much further, I’d like to say thank you to Kedvin, a member of the JCE facebook fanpage, who asked what the difference was.

Step 1: identifying the gables
I’ve highlighted the five visible gables of Kumamoto’s Uto Turret below. And you can see Kumamoto’s main tower lurking in the background, which sports yet another type of gable. Ten points to anyone who can name & describe it (in the comments section of course).

Step 2: a closer look
The two gables on the lower floor look the same, right? The two gables on the second floor do too, don’t they? Yes, they do, so no help there. I’ve highlighted the three Irimoyahafu below, the now, un-highlighted gables are Chidorihafu. Can you see how they are different? No?

Step 3: Irimoyahafu truly are part of the roof, not add-ons
The painted blue sections below are the actual roofs of each layer, with the Irimoyahafus at each end. You can now see that the Chidorihafu look added on.

There is something else worth pointing out here – the key difference between Bōrōgata & Sōtōgata towers. Bōrōgata-style towers have Irimoyahafu (resembling the right side of the Uto Turret) and Sōtōgata-style towers don’t (resembling the left side of the Uto Turret). Sōtōgata would only have added-on looking gables (or possibly none at all).

I hope that cleared things up. Hey, I’m glad I was asked the question. We can all benefit from it. Would love to get your thoughts guys..

image: Lee Jin-man/AP

Japanese castles have long suffered from the threat of fire. Hardly a bombshell, but keep in mind that any one of the precious remaining Edo-period towers, turrets or gates could go up in flames tomorrow.

In early 2008, South Korea’s top national treasure, the 600-year-old Namdaemun Gate, was set fire to. (see attached photo for the gory details or read about it).

Due to the frightening regularity with which these buildings burnt to the ground, counter-measures were of course developed. Perhaps the biggest innovation was the introduction of the white plastered walls & eaves (roof overhang). The result being a highly fire-resistant and some say, more visually appealing building.

	1: The heavily plastered eaves of Takamatsu’s Tsukimi Turret. I admit, I thought it was concrete.		2: Freshly re- plastered. The Ushitora Turret’s eaves feature a beautiful undulation.		3: The technique exposed. Bamboo was tied together then smothered with mud, then plaster.
	4: Kumamoto is a classic two-tone castle. The walls have large wooden panels with eaves of white plaster.		5: Even the blackest of castles utilized plastered eaves. Click on the picture to get a better look.		6: I snapped this pic at Kokura castle. Its main tower was lost to fire in 1866 (but not to smoking).

When I first started visiting castles & saw these smooth, whitened eaves, I was convinced they were trying to pull my leg. I mean, old, wooden buildings are wooden, right?

• Pictures 1&2: These turrets were both built in the latter 1600′s but there is something undeniably modern about their contours. What do you think?
• Picture 3: The rough edges of this turret us how they were constructed. Over the top of a wooden frame, bamboo pieces are tired together then filled with mud. Finally, the white plaster was applied.
• Picture 4: Exposed wood paneling is an identifying feature of Kumamoto Castle. Even here, the upper sections of walls & eaves are plastered.
• Picture 5: The renowned black castle of Okayama. The main tower was rebuilt using concrete, but it is a faithful replica. The white, concrete eaves were once plastered.
• Picture 6: Could this have been the answer? I’d love to hear your thoughts?

Shachiって何だ:

Tiger-carp hybrids, Killer whales and Dragon-headed fish have all been used to describe Shachihoko. Whatever the origins of the mythical fish-tailed beast, they have been used to adorn roofs of Japanese castles, turrets and gates for centuries. Certainly they contribute to the overall beauty of these buildings but primarily they were symbols of good luck to ward off the threat of fire. Given their abysmal track record at Kanazawa & Edo castles (to name just two), their credibility seems flakey at best.

In almost every case, pairs of Shachi (one male & one female) sit on the ridges of roofs at opposing corners, forever facing off like immovable, disgruntled contortionists. It is said that the Shachi with the opened mouth is the male. Perhaps their expressions would soften if the male Shachi just kept its mouth shut.

Shachi of note:

• Nagoya Castle – Giant gold-plated, copper Shachi.
• Matsue Castle – Japan’s biggest at 2.08 meters tall. The original Shachi are now housed inside the tower.
• Maruoka Castle – Carved from stone. The original Shachi now sit at the base of the tower.
• Saga Castle – The “Shachi” Gate are adorned with truly beautiful Shachi.
• Shibata Castle – Three Shachi sit atop the Sangai Turret. (blatant oneupmanship).