Along the Samurai's Route E-Book

Jorge Orpianesi

• Herausgeber: Editorial Autores de Argentina
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Spanisch

Seitenzahl: 569

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Along the Samurai's Route, with its 9 maps and more than 200 ºphotographs, invites the reader to go on a journey into the geography and history of Japan. Dare to travel the Land of the Rising Sun with the help of an experienced martial artist who will act as a guide, while recounting the incredible experiences of his journey. Following the life of the famous warrior Miyamoto Musashi, the author will discover the iconic places of samurai culture and its most deeply rooted traditions. This book is a journey back in time where he shares his experiences in sacred places such as temples, shrines, castles, museums, cemeteries, forests, battlefields, and even the climb of mythical Mount Fuji. This inspirational adventure, which started as a dream and took many years to prepare, places the reader, both neophyte and experienced, closer to the culture of this mysterious country.

Leseprobe

JORGE ORPIANESI

Along the Samurai’s Route

Japan for Budokas

Orpianesi, Jorge

   Along the Samurai's Route : Japan for Budokas / Jorge Orpianesi. - 1a ed. - Ciudad Autónoma de Buenos Aires : Autores de Argentina, 2021.

   Libro digital, EPUB

   Archivo Digital: descarga y online

   Traducción de:  Antonella Sofia Speroni ; Julieta Soledad Olivero. 

   ISBN 978-987-87-1862-0

   1. Japón. 2. Geografía. 3. Historia. I. Speroni, Antonella Sofia, trad. II. Olivero, Julieta Soledad, trad. III. Título. 

   CDD 915.204 

EDITORIAL AUTORES DE [email protected]

Queda hecho el depósito que establece la LEY 11.723Impreso en Argentina – Printed in Argentina

Where your mind has been...There your body must go!

–Jorge Orpianesi

FOREWORD

As we live, we make decisions. We take up activities, we drop them, we change our minds, we study, we work. And in each activity we do, we meet people, we have different experiences. They all affect us, change some aspect of us. That is called learning. For better or for worse, we learn and, when we learn, we again modify our choices, tastes, social circles.

And so, we go through life searching... always searching. Most of the time, we do not know what we are looking for, but we do not stop looking.

For many years, we walk as if disoriented, doing this or that, guided by instinct, by the preferences of that moment, the possibilities of our experiences, according to our perseverance, our economy. But even in the worst of those situations, we keep looking.

We seek to live better, we seek a good partner, we seek good education for our children… we always seek to improve. We may achieve it or not, but we continue our search. Until, sometimes, it all makes sense —knowledge, taste, past experiences, the attitude that we learned to have in life are aligned. Everything aligns and we make sense of everything we did and do. Even the “aligned” themselves are surprised and wonder: How did I not realize it before?

I think this book is precisely that: Jorge’s alignment after decades of practice, sacrifice, study, analysis. After much sweating and patience, perseverance, and effort, he found, even if not completely, what he was looking for, at least until now. And here it shows.

This is not ONE book —it is many books in one, as many were the “Jorges” who wrote it. The person who planned the trip was not the same person who climbed Mount Fuji, and the person who came down from that mountain is not similar to the person who slept in temples or walked in cemeteries. He is somewhat similar to the one who returned and sat down to write and organize the thousands of photos, but he was definitely not the same. Of course, it was the same body, but not the same mind, not the same spirit.

This text is a journey through time with an excellent guide. For those who do not know the author, I will tell you that this book deals with history, customs, religion, personal anecdotes, it recommends places to visit, eat, spend the night. It has a certain mystery and adventure, and it could even serve as a guide for those who want to emulate this trip. Here, a journey is narrated in the broadest sense of that word. It is the journey of a samurai named Musashi, thoroughly explained: where he was born, where he slept; where he prayed, where he did not pray; the place of his duels, the dates, the names of his opponents; monuments, statues, paintings, temples, towns, cemeteries; and even where he died. It is the result of decades of preparation, search, research, resignation, sacrifices...

For those of us who know him, this book is the journey of “samurai Jorge.” Everything he learned is reflected in these pages, which have been written with great respect, both for what they tell and for who will read them. With a deep knowledge and a very entertaining writing style, the text attracts the reader as if it were a suspense novel, and the reader cannot help but read for hours.

Now, the only thing left for you is to sit down comfortably, in your favorite place, and let the book guide you through this samurai’s route.

A piece of advice: every now and then, look around to verify that you are still in the same room and you were not transported to a different time or place.

César F. González Monteghirfo

A martial artist traveled to Japan, where the wind blows in the ancient city and the waters of history flow.

While he was practicing martial arts, something got etched deep in his heart: the homeland of the martial spirit, Japan.

Exploring the country, he becomes a Samurai, and as a result, The Samurai’s Route blossoms.

As an Iaido trainee and instructor, I want to express my respect and admiration for the author, Jorge Orpianesi, and I hope that many people enjoy his book.

Sensei Hiroshi Nagao

14th descendant of the Nagao clan

AUTHOR'S FOREWORD

This is the story of a journey, a special journey whose beginning and end would be hard determine. There are also no details about the places where a pause was necessary, how hard the road was or how meaningful the places visited were.

If I had to think of an approximate starting date, I would say that it was in the afternoon of December 1st, 1982, when I enrolled in a karate school at the age of 13, although I am not certain that the real journey began that day. Who could understand the journey of a martial artist in their first class? That day, I only knew that I had found something; I was not sure what, but it was something interesting about which I needed to learn and gain a deeper knowledge.

Perhaps I could find another starting date in 1984, when I came across a Spanish martial arts magazine about a journalist who traveled to Okinawa to interview different masters. I remember being totally hypnotized by those stories. I am not sure if it was because it was my first martial arts magazine or because the experience of that practitioner and journalist was something absolutely amazing to me. Something deep inside me decided on one of my biggest projects in the future: visiting Japan.

Back then, traveling to Japan was nothing short of a utopia. Something unattainable. The closest I could get to Japan when I was young was my dojo or practice place. And so, I started training martial arts, and I never stopped. First, I did karate. After fifteen years and because I wanted to learn more, I started aikido. After ten more years, I did the same with iaido, and finally, Okinawan kobudo. I continue practicing all of them today.

Through my practice, I managed to travel to Japan; not only to present-day Japan, but also, to ancient Japan, which caught my attention. The techniques I trained were ancient, with no practical use in the modern world, let alone training with weapons that had been used centuries ago. There was also a certain magic in that “uselessness.” Nobody spends their whole life practicing something that they will never use... Or was I using it every day without realizing it? There were concepts that I did not fully grasp. I needed to learn beyond daily practice. I did not have many other options, I had to read...

That first magazine that I had bought in 1984 became, over the years, my greatest material treasure: my library. This is how I began to discover the history and origins of what I was practicing, many times without really understanding the meaning of that practice. I learned theoretical and philosophical aspects that constantly surrounded the customs and rituals that were repeated every day in the dojo. I learned the folklore and geography that directly influenced the techniques used. There were even religious components that should have nothing to do with the practice of a young man on the other side of the world... but they did have a lot to do with it.

This is how I found myself in the middle of a journey, traveling through distant worlds in space and time, without having the slightest idea of where that adventure would take me. But there was something about which I was quite sure: I was enjoying it a lot.

It was not until after many years of training that I realized that the time had come to take my body to all those places where my mind had already been, and that was how my greatest adventure began: traveling all over Japan from end to end, visiting each and every one of those places that appeared on the pages of my books. It was time to start to close the circle, experience what I had learned, see with my own eyes the places where the principles and foundations of Japanese martial arts had been forged. And as a last mission, I needed to share what I had lived because, as I always say, the knowledge that we keep to ourselves is only good to gather dust. It only turns into gold when we share it. And that is what I am doing here…

Jorge Orpianesi

PLACES VISITED

1– Tokyo

2– Saitama

3– Kamakura

4– Chiba

5– Nikko

6– Iwama

7– Aizu Wakamatsu

8– Kawaguchi

9– Fujisan

10– Matsumoto

11– Kanazawa

12– Shirakawa–go

13– Sekigahara

14– Nagoya

15- Kyoto

16– Nara

17– Koyasan

18– Osaka

19– Himeji

20– Hirafuku

21– Ohara

22– Awakura

23– Osafune

24– Fukuyama

25– Hiroshima

26– Itsukushima

27– Iwakuni

28– Kokura

29– Kitakyushu

30– Shimonoseki

31– Fukuoka

32– Nagasaki

33– Shimabara

34– Okinawa

35– Kumamoto

Musha Sugyo

This book is not intended to be an infallible guide, nor is it a kind of bible to be followed to the letter. I would say that it is more of a travel journal where I tell my experiences and from where the reader can take what is useful or interesting and ignore the rest. Throughout its pages, you will find stories, information, and historical data, photos taken during the tour and practical advice, but they do not intend to be absolute truths. I myself am not a historian, but an avid reader and traveler who dedicated his entire life to trying to understand Japanese culture from the other side of the world, and I consider the evoking feelings as the most valuable part of this work.

To make such a trip in a relatively short time, I needed to have everything scheduled to the minute. I could not waste time in useless searches and that is why I studied what I called the “destinations” for so many years. I determined what I was looking for, why I was looking for it, how I should get there, the time it would take me to reach that destination, and how much time I should invest in traveling around. There were cities where I stayed for several days, and there were days when I visited several cities. Everything was scheduled with the greatest accuracy to complete the entirety of my journey. I have always known that I did not travel for pleasure but to study. Every day, I woke up at 4.30 a.m. to be on my way to the first destination at 5.30. My trip was at the end of the summer, when the sun rises and sets very early, so by 6 p.m. my day was already over. As I repeated that routine day after day, fatigue became the biggest obstacle. However, the expectations of visiting a new place were always stronger and were transformed into the necessary energy that always kept me on my feet and very focused on my work.

Why did I decide to name my work Along the Samurai’s Route? Because although my tour of Japan was wide and very diverse, my focus was the journey that the wandering samurai Miyamoto Musashi made from his birthplace to his burial site. During his life, from 1584 to 1645, this warrior traveled throughout the country participating in different battles and dueling against the most distinguished swordsmen of the time without ever having been defeated. Talking about the history of Musashi is not easy. It takes a lot to make out the real man from the myth and from the character of stories and legends. We know that he existed, when he was born and when he died, but there are many versions of each of his actions and historical moments. Apart from the master's own books, there are different writings recorded while he was alive, including testimonies after his death from family members and students. Added to those writings, there is research done by historians of later times, and even the historical novel by Eiji Yoshikawa, written in 1935, which I believe managed to create more confusion than to help clarify aspects of his life. Logically, Yoshikawa had no intention of sticking to the real Musashi, but rather he wanted to create suspense for his novel. I think this is a shame, because after studying Musashi for many years, I can say that his life does not need any kind of fiction to be engaging. Regarding historical texts about the master’s life, there are writings by historians from the 18th century onwards. There is also a 1696 text written by Miyamoto Kohei, the nephew of one of Musashi’s adopted sons. Another inescapable reference was the engravings on a stone monument found in Kokura, written in 1654 recounting his life. Finally, there are different records and documents of many of the places that the master visited, such as war reports, temple records, shrines, castles, and even biographies of other warriors who crossed his path. When I came across different versions of a fact, I chose the one that made more sense to me personally or, when in doubt, I presented the different versions. However, I always preferred to keep a single line of story, so as not to confuse you with too many intertwined or even contradictory stories. This is how I made that journey, visiting those historical places that were part of his journey of perfecting in the art of the sword. Those trips were common for warriors of feudal times, and they received the name of Musha Sugyo, which means “the training of the warrior.” The shugyosha, or wandering warriors, went on adventures without any protection from their clan or family, and their only objective was to perfect their art by fighting duels to death or first blood. As I traveled, I tried to imagine the thoughts and feelings of these warriors on the road and, that way, I tried to deepen on their concerns by making a timeless parallel with my journey, and, why not, with my own inner search.

Picture: Marki González

JAPAN

Chapter I

Ikigai

Move, and the path will appear.

-Zen proverb

Tokyo

In this first chapter, I will cover much of the Kanto region, i.e., the capital and its surroundings. Tokyo is one of the 47 prefectures into which this country is administratively divided, and its main city, also named Tokyo, has been the official capital since 1869. It is in the center of the Kanto region, and it was built over the remains of the ancient city of Edo, the seat of the Tokugawa dynasty since 1603. It is a gigantic city, home to 14 million people; a number which increases every day, as many inhabitants of the nearby cities move into the metropolitan region. Perhaps what impresses the most is its population density: 15,000 inhabitants per square kilometer.

I think that the best way to get to know it and visit its historical landmarks is to divide it into zones. I stayed in this city twice, as my journey began and ended there. For a matter of text organization, I am going to include every detail of this city in the same section.

My first destination was the Taito ward. I considered that it was an ideal place to start my tour because this neighborhood is home to the beautiful Ueno Park, where the most important museums of the city are located. Once settled in my hotel, I took my camera and began my adventure along the samurai’s route...

War and Peace

He held his sword tightly as he gazed into the distance. Clouds of dust rose into the air, warning him that the number of adversaries was significantly higher. He would get into combat at any moment. Although the two-century peaceful Edo period had made them sluggish, they were still skillful in the art of war. They had to defend their honor and prevent tradition from being taken away. He and all the loyal people around him at the Kanei ji temple could feel the adrenaline rush in the air on Ueno Hill. At 7 in the morning, the first shots of the Snider rifles were heard and, seconds later, the explosions of the Armstrong cannons. Those were foreign weapons crushing their own history! The advance that would end their lineage had begun. The price would be high. Even if he had not wanted to, his legs took him into the heart of the battle. He was never seen again. He was a samurai, and he knew what his duty was...

The first record of the word “samurai” dates from the 8th century and refers to domestic servants in charge of caring for the elderly. The word derives from “saburau” which means “to serve” and, therefore, the “saburai” was “the one who serves.” But when did a servant become an elite warrior? Before the Heian period, Japan was divided into family clans called “uji,” which began to choose their strongest men to create their own military force. The first job of these armed men was to quell the onslaught by the peoples from the north of the country, whom they considered barbarians. But in the 10th century, Japan was hit by a severe famine, which caused social unrest, endangering the position of the emperor and the ruling uji. That was the key moment for the emergence of the samurai. The prevailing social unrest made their services highly valued, taking them to a higher social level. It was only at this time that the word “samurai” began to carry military connotations.

In 1192, the samurai would take over the ruling power and proclaim the shogun as the new authority, leaving the emperor as a mere figurehead. That system of government lasted almost seven centuries, until in 1868, when the emperor was restored as the highest authority in Japan through the Meiji Restoration. This restoration was not peaceful. A long time had passed, with a government who had also influenced the customs and activities of an entire nation. Change would be abrupt. All samurai traditions had to be left behind to give way to Western civilization and modernity. The resistance of these armed forces was intense, and one of their most critical moments was on a hill near Tokyo, called Ueno.

Ueno Park, located in the west of the Taito ward, is one of the green areas of the city. It consists of many hectares of beautiful parkland with pedestrian paths, where people usually walk and enjoy the nature and culture that live there. Its foundation dates back to 1873. This park is home to the largest group of museums in the city, including the Tokyo National Museum, the National Museum of Nature and Science of Japan, the National Museum of Western Art, the Shitamachi Museum, the Metropolitan Art Museum, and the Ueno Royal Museum. The bold green of a pond called Shinobazu, usually covered with water lilies in summer, creates a unique landscape among the modern skyscrapers that appear behind the perimeter of the park, like vigilant guards. In the center of the pond, rises the small Buddhist temple Benten–do, which appears to be floating among the water lilies. It was built by the feudal lord Mizunoya Katsutaka in the 17th century and was originally only accessible by boat. It was only many years later that a stone bridge was built to facilitate access.

Touring the entire park on foot and visiting every part of it, including all the museums, can take a whole day. Due to time constraints, I decided to visit two of them, the ones that are part of the samurai’s route: the Tokyo National Museum and the Shitamachi Museum. The latter, although much more modest than the first, had the same historical value in my journey, since there, I was able to appreciate scenes of daily life in the streets as it was in the Meiji and Taisho periods. Apart from all these attractions, I must say that the entire Ueno Park was, in itself, one of the destinations of my trip. It was there that, on July 4th, 1868, the Battle of Ueno took place. That battle faced the factions loyal to the Shogun against the army that sought the restoration of the emperor. There, where bloody battles were held in the past, today I could see a haven of peace. This is one of the favorite places for the Japanese to enjoy the flowering of more than a thousand cherry trees during the hanami. I closed my eyes and I heard the summer cicadas with their deafening song, mingling with the cawing of crows. The voice and music of a street artist framed an idyllic summer picture. But in the background, deep down, I could hear the clash of swords and the shots of rifles and cannons muffled by battle cries...

Ueno Park today

On Temples and Shrines

The samurai, searching for some understanding of his condition as a man of war, went to the temple at the entrance of the town. The reputation of one of the monks who lived there as a wise man was very well known. Without further thought, he went to the courtyard of the place, where he saw the old man, dressed in his kesa, sweeping the courtyard with a palm leaf. Very respectfully, the samurai said:

“Master, I have come so that you teach me the meaning of heaven and hell.”

The old man looked up and observed the visitor for a second before returning to his work while muttering:

“I could never teach anything to a violent, filthy man of your status. Please, leave this temple immediately!”

“How could you be so insolent! How dare you talk to me like that?” said the samurai, drawing his sword.

Absolutely calmed, and looking at the samurai in the eye, the old man said:

“That is hell.”

The samurai stopped his untimely action when he heard the calm and forceful words of the old man. It was at that moment that he began to slowly sheath his sword while lowering one knee to the ground as a sign of respect.

The last words of the teacher were:

“… and that is heaven.”

–TEXT BASED ON AN OLD ZEN STORY

The two main religions in Japan are Buddhism and Shintoism. The first one was imported from India through China and Korea, and the second one is its native religion. Regarding the latter, it is important to notice that, unlike most religions, it does not have sacred texts, nor prophets, nor images, but it is an animistic religion with a vast number of gods. Those gods are the spirits of everything around us. Therefore, there are gods of mountains, rivers, trees, stones, natural phenomena, everyday objects, and people who have already died, among many others. Japan is a unique case in the world, where both religions have co-existed over the centuries in permanent syncretism. Since ancient times, the Japanese have professed both religions while intertwining their rites and customs. For a better understanding of this book, I consider it particularly important to point out that temples are the precincts of the Buddhist religion, and shrines are those of the Shinto religion. It is quite common then to see Buddhist elements such as Buddha images or pagodas in shrines, and Shinto elements such as the torii or ablution fountains in temples. However, there were times when both religions were at odds, not for religious reasons, but for political issues. When priests began to take more important roles in government decisions and gained power, religious movements and their traditions inevitably began to become distorted, and religions extended or decreased their reach depending on the approval of the current ruler.

Japanese martial arts have always been heavily influenced by different religions, perhaps as an urgent need to soothe men who dealt with death on a daily basis. The greatest influences came from Buddhism and Shintoism, but also from Taoism and Confucianism in China, because, as the martial culture of the Asian giant was many times absorbed, so was its religious support. In fact, there are many rituals, names, and customs used during practice that come from these religions, and many times, this detail goes unnoticed.

As I continued my way through Ueno Park, I came across three temples and shrines whose names were familiar to me. They are small replicas of much bigger and famous ones. The first one is the Kiyomizu Kannon Do, honoring the goddess Kannon. This temple is related to the Kiyomizu Dera temple in Kyoto. The replica, much smaller than the original, imitates its design and architecture. It is one of the oldest shrines in Tokyo and a survivor of the Battle of Ueno. Like its original counterpart, this replica also has a balcony and is decorated almost entirely in a vermilion red color. Pregnant women go there regularly to pray for a healthy birth. Its name derives from the deity that it houses, the goddess Kannon, who was a gift from the abbot of the Kiyomizu Dera temple in 1631.

Another miniature temple in this park is the Ueno Tosho Gu, related to the lavish Nikko Shrine, which houses the remains of the shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu. This temple dates from 1627 and was originally called Toshosha until 1645, when it was decided that it would be used to honor Tokugawa. It was officially reopened in 1651 by his grandson Iemitsu, preserving its original form. It follows the same architectural aesthetics of Nikko’s Greater Shrine and is one of the few buildings in Tokyo with this construction style that still exist. A path marked by bronze toró and stone lanterns led me to the entrance where an elegant stone torii welcomed me. This was the first scene of my journey that almost accidentally took me to the past time I wanted to know.

The last shrine I visited in Ueno was Inari, related to the famous and over-photographed Fushimi Inari Taisha from Kyoto, about which I will write in detail later. There, you can pray to the goddess Inari and walk along the path of vermilion torii, without the need to leave Tokyo.

Details on the Tosho Gu shrine in Ueno

The Treasure Room

The intense heat of the fire is hardly bearable. His eyes cannot see well, but his hands still work perfectly and feel the finest piece of steel. The craftsman knows the trade he inherited from his ancestors very well. He wears white as a symbol of purity, trying to ward evil spirits off his workshop. He has the shimenawa rope, which will help him keep evildoers at bay. The product of his art must be born under the best possible spiritual conditions. The life of its owner will depend on that. Once everything is ready, the intense noise of the hammers will begin, clashing, with each blow, in thousands of sparks, illuminating the sacred room. Steel will fold two, four, eight, thousands of times! The result will be as beautiful as lethal. Its name: katana.

As I crossed Ueno Park from south to north, I finally caught a glimpse of the impressive Tokyo National Museum. It is the largest and oldest museum in Japan. Its structure is indeed very impressive and, by the way, it takes a long time to go all over it, so the best idea was to choose what I wanted to see. In my case, and considering what was mostly related to my journey, I chose the Honkan buildings, that is, the main gallery with its permanent collection, and the Gallery of Horyuji Treasures, a modern building that houses more than three hundred objects from the 7th and 8th centuries.

There, samurai weapons from different periods appeared before me: swords that belonged to Oda Nobunaga and the Maeda clan, or the oldest signed sword in Japan, the Mikazuki Munechika, with a thousand-year-old history, still looking brand new. This sword was signed by Sanjo Munechika in the 10th century, who named his creation Mikazuki. This beautiful name means “crescent moon” and refers to the small moon-shaped marks left as an indelible seal when forged. Of the five best katanas in Japan, the Mikazuki is the best preserved. This piece is one of the first blades with a curved shape, which left behind the old ken swords of Chinese origin. Throughout history, this sword passed through the hands of Toyotomi Hideyoshi and the Tokugawa clan until, finally, it was acquired by the Tokyo National Museum.

In museums, the blades of the swords are exhibited separated from their accessories, such as the sheath, the guard, or the handle. The blade itself is considered a jewel that must be appreciated in its entirety and with the greatest attention, as if we were looking at the painting of a distinguished painter. What is more, many blades are signed by their forgers. As that signature is engraved on the tang of the blade, it could not be appreciated if the handle were in place. Another element that used to be engraved on the tang was the number of bodies that the blade would cut in a single blow. This quality test was done in the past by piling up corpses and cutting them up with the sword, thus, assessing the quality of cut that the weapon had. There are records of blades cutting up to seven bodies. There are also records that prove that many cut tests were not made on corpses, but on living people sentenced to death.

The complete and partial armors, like military remnants from different periods and all very well preserved, appeared on the display cabinets as if they wanted to tell me something on behalf of their owners. They are pieces that traveled a long way since the 12th century and came to my day to teach me their secrets. What called my attention was that, unlike medieval European armors made of steel, the yoroi were made of materials that were much less resistant to the passage of time, such as wood, leather, metal, deerskin, and silk. The kabuto or helmets of Japanese armors, true works of art since their origins, were displayed before me, profusely decorated, and loaded with religious and spiritual symbolism, whose role was to protect both the head and the spirit of their wearer in the clamor of battle. The National Museum also comforted me with paintings made using the sumi-e and ukiyo-e techniques, invaluable crafts, and abundant documentation on the feudal periods. Unfortunately, explanations in English were limited to some titles and names of objects.

Just behind the National Museum, and making an important detour around its perimeter, there is Kaneiji Cemetery, house of the Tokugawa Mausoleum. This one belonged to the shogun Tokugawa Ietsuna, who was the fourth in succession of the clan and who ruled between 1651 and 1680.

Tokyo National Museum

The Black Gate

The summer sun was stifling. The cicadas did not stop singing, even for a minute. A little boy and his peasant father were walking on the side of Tokaido road on that hot August morning. In the distance, the noise of approaching horses and military equipment began to be heard. But it was not until they were close to them that the little boy could understand what his eyes saw. More than a hundred steeds with men dressed in their shining armors, carrying their heraldic banners and their incredible spears and swords at the waist. In the midst of all those gigantic figures walking steadily like silent centaurs, there was a palanquin that surely carried the daimyo of some region. The father hurriedly grabbed the back of the boy’s neck, forced him to bow before the procession, and made signs for him to look at the floor without moving. The boy complied and, once he felt the sound of the horses’ hooves getting away, he could not help his curiosity any longer and turned to see them as they continued their path towards the capital. “Someday, I will be a samurai,” he thought.

During the Edo period, the shogun Tokugawa Iemitsu came up with a very subtle way to maintain order and loyalty in his fiefdoms. During those years, a regulation was passed which stated that each daimyo or feudal lord had to spend a year with his family and entourage at the city of Edo, in the vicinity of the shogun’s castle. After that period, the daimyo would return to his fiefdom, but without his family, who would stay and live in the capital. This way, he had them permanently controlled, while at the same time, divided and away from their domains to avoid any revolt. The system was called Sankin Kotai or “alternate attendance” and was a real headache for these warlords.

Walking out of the National Museum, still within its perimeters, I came across an ancient dark wooden door, known as Kuromon or “Black Gate.” In ancient times, it was the entry to the house of the Ikeda clan, whose head was the feudal lord of the province of Inaba, today’s Tottori prefecture. “Mon” refers to the entrance portals of temples, shrines, castles, and important houses. In the case of temples and shrines, they do not have a door of any kind, since their function is only to set the limit between profane sites and sacred sites, while in castles or, as in this case, a samurai house, the door had the characteristics of a fortress. This residence was originally located in the Marunouchi area near Edo Castle, but its portal was relocated to Takanawadai–machi in 1892, where it served as the gateway to the Crown Prince’s palace. It was later transferred to the Takamatsu no Miya house, before being restored and rebuilt in its current location. This happened in 1954. Based on its architecture, it is a construction from the Edo period (1603-1868); however, its exact date is still unknown. By looking at it, I was able to see exactly what kind of design the feudal lords used for their houses at Edo. This entrance portal to ancient times was deservedly declared a Cultural Heritage Site in September 1951.

Kuromon

The Last Samurai

“Respect heaven and love mankind.”

–SAIGO TAKAMORI

Did the last samurai really exist?

In fact, he did. That is how Saigo Takamori was known. Born in Kagoshima in 1828, this samurai originally supported the Meiji Restoration and fought to return the power to the emperor during the Boshin War. But then, he began to see how, little by little, the warriors of his caste were losing their rights in a brutal way. It began with the prohibition of carrying their weapons or limiting their rituals and customs, and then, slowly, they were financially drowned. In those days, the country was rapidly becoming westernized with the excuse of modernization, but without any respect for ancient traditions. That is why Saigo abandoned the cause and switched sides, leading the rebellion of the Satsuma clan. This rebellion took hold among many of the samurai of the Kyushu region, who were not willing to continue giving up their rights. Thus, they convinced Saigo to come back from retirement and lead the revolt. The famous battle at the end of the movie “The Last Samurai” also existed. It took place on September 24th, 1877, in the Kagoshima region and was, as shown in the movie, a massacre. It is known as the Battle of Shiroyama. Saigo’s rebel forces started the rebellion with 40,000 men, and only 500 of them remained for the final battle. These last 500 members of a caste of brave warriors faced an imperial armed force of 30,000 soldiers. All were eventually decimated by Glating guns. There are texts asserting that Saigo, seeing defeat was close, requested a samurai of his army to assist him in committing seppuku; however, the official records of the time deny this version, and state that he was killed by a gunshot wound and later beheaded by his assistant. Finally, Saigo was pardoned posthumously in 1889, and nine years later, the government built a statue depicting him dressed in traditional clothing, accompanied by his dog akita. The statue of Saigo Takamori is located at the southern end of Ueno Park. He is depicted in a calm posture, perhaps understanding that he did everything in his power, not to restore the samurai condition, which was already a lost cause, but at least to leave a last sample of what those warriors were capable of doing when faced with what they considered their duty...

Saigo Takamori statue

League of Righteousness

The last samurai asked the evil lord Omura:

“Are you planning a massacre?”

“Indeed,” Omura replied coldly.

This dialogue, which could easily belong to the Hollywood movie mentioned before, really took place in 1868.

Saigo Takamori led the emperor's troops to put down the uprisings in favor of the shogun. Omura, considered the father of the new Japanese army, was determined to crush any samurai rebellion that opposed the new ruling figure of the emperor. Among those rebel forces were the famous Shogi Tai, whose name means “League to Demonstrate Righteousness.” This group was an elite armed wing of the Tokugawa shogunate, who organized themselves to defend the Shogun in the late Edo period. On May 15th, 1868, they fought in a place known as Ueno no Yama (Ueno Hill) within the Kanei Ji Temple premises. This temple, one of the favorites of the Tokugawa family, housed many buildings and pagodas, but the battle was so intense that none of those buildings remained standing. The Shogi Tai was crushed at the end of the day. This was known as the Battle of Ueno or the Battle of Shogi Tai.

Lord Omura, who had planned an escape route for the Shogi Tai forces, had actually set a trap. That was the moment of the dialogue from the beginning of this section, with Saigo Takamori, who was still in the forces of the emperor. These destructive actions towards the samurai made Saigo rethink his position and his place in this confrontation, as I mentioned in the previous section.

In the southern part of today’s Ueno Park, I respectfully stopped in front of the graves that were raised to bury and honor those Shogi Tai samurai, who were massacred in that place, by express order of Lord Omura...

Tomb of the Shogi Tai

The Loyal 47 of Ako

As was usually the case, Lord Asano from Ako province visited the Shogun at Edo Castle. It was a sad day in 1701, when, faced with an offense by the master of ceremonies named Kira Yoshihisa, with whom he had a long-standing confrontation, Asano drew his sword and slightly injured the offender. The laws of the time did not allow to draw weapons in the Shogun’s castle, so Lord Asano was sentenced to commit seppuku while being deprived of his property, and part of his family was imprisoned. All his samurai thus became ronin, that is, warriors without a lord to serve. Of the nearly 300 men in his army, only 47 made the decision to avenge their lord by killing Kira with a cunning plan. For nearly two years, they pretended to fall from grace, separating from their families and turning to a dissipated life full of alcohol and women. When the unworthy master of ceremonies understood that these men no longer represented a danger to his life, he left a minimal guard around him to protect him. On the cold night of December 14th, 1702, the loyal 47 of Ako avenged their lord’s death, killing Kira at his house with the same sword with which their lord had committed suicide. The 47 breathed a sigh of relief as they looked at each other in silence. They knew their destiny, but they would not leave this life breaking their promise...

|The next area to visit on the samurai’s route was Minato Ku, where the Sengakuji Buddhist Temple is located. This temple, founded in 1612, is famous for housing the tombs of the loyal 47 of Ako, also known as the 47 ronin. To get there, I took the subway to Sengakuji Station, which is just one block from the temple entrance. Like many old buildings in Tokyo, this religious site seems squeezed by modern urbanization. Even so, the entrance portal rises strikingly from the low ceilings of the surrounding houses.

Very early in the morning and under a steady rain, I arrived at the temple included as a destination on my road map. The place was desolate, and under a leaden gray sky, I managed, inadvertently, to experience a special atmosphere on my visit. The rain pattering on the umbrella invited me to reflect in such a sacred place. The historical tragedy rose from the ground with the steam of the summer rain.

The leader of the 47, Oishi Kuranosuke, greeted me with a bow before I crossed the entrance portal. Once inside, a huge courtyard with a censer in the center appeared before me. Opposite the censer, there stands the central building, built in noble dark woods that clearly show the age of the premises. To the right, classrooms, and administrative offices, and to the left, a sign that marked, unmistakably, the way to the graves of the loyal 47 and their Lord Asano.

Although the story is well known, let me remind you that it was an act of revenge and justice carried out by these warriors, even knowing that this action would cost everyone’s lives. After completing their mission, they appeared before Lord Asano’s tomb in Sengakuji and they offered him the head of his enemy, after washing it in a well that is still there nowadays, to the right of the road that leads to the tombs. When the loyal 47 surrendered to the authorities, they were housed in four daimyo houses. Some went to Hosokawa’s house, some to Matsudaira’s, some to Mori’s, and the last ones to Mizuno’s house. The shogun Tokugawa then declared that 46 of the 47 ronin had to pay for their offense by committing seppuku in February 1703. They did not know what to do with the bodies until the day before the ceremony, when they decided that they would be buried with their master, in Sengakuji. This caught the temple monks by surprise, who hurriedly began the funeral preparations. The graves were dug in groups to receive the bodies as they arrived from each of the houses where they had been staying. Since they did not know when the bodies would arrive, they considered this idea more practical than burying them according to their rank. In order to move the bodies, they were placed inside wooden barrels in a fetal position, with their arms hugging their knees and their heads between their knees and chest. These same barrels were buried as they were, in each of the graves, and marked with wooden tablets, while waiting for the stone tombstones that are seen today.

Upon entering the area of the temple’s tombs, Oishi Kuranosuke’s stands out among all of them. In a secluded area to the right, Lord Asano watches over his men and beside him, stands his wife’s grave. Along with the 46 who committed suicide is buried Oishi’s son, named Chikara, who was only 16 years old when he accepted with honor to be part of the mission, thus becoming the youngest samurai of the loyal 47 of Ako. Chikara was forgiven by the Shogun and, when he died at the age of 80, he asked to rest with his beloved companions.

At 9 a.m., upon leaving the tombs area, I entered the temple museums. One of them is known by the name of Akohgishi Kinenkan. There, I was able to appreciate, among many objects, what is believed to be Lord Asano’s helmet. This beautiful piece is made of 14 iron sheets and the kamon, or symbol of his clan, is engraved in gold. There is also a letter written by Oishi Kuranosuke to Genke Terai, the Asano family doctor, detailing the condition of each of the 47 samurai. In another glass case, the written statement explaining their actions is displayed. They left one of these statements at Kira’s house, and each carried one among their belongings. There is also a war drum used in the raid, which must have made the blood of the inhabitants of Kira’s house run cold on that fateful night. In another building called Gishi Mukozokan, the wooden statues of the loyal 47 are exhibited with a description of their names, age at the time of the attack, and rank. Five of these statues were carved with great realism by the sculptor Sekiran in the 19th century, who managed to give each of the brave men a face. The remaining images were carved by his disciples.

I decided to say goodbye to the loyal 47 lighting incense in the censer at the main courtyard. The meaning of incense in Japanese culture has remained unchanged throughout the years and is often attributed healing and purifying properties. It is also used to bring peace and accompany difficult times. In the days of the samurai, helmets and armor were often scented with the incense of the temples, to turn them invincible. I could then imagine the 47 ronin perfuming their armors before their mission, and I knew that they became invincible, since they only fell under their own swords and even so, they managed to endure in time through their act of loyalty and generosity.

Sengaku ji

Tombs of the loyal 47

The Black Buddha

Old Ieyasu lowered his left knee to the ground. He was wearing his gleaming black armor and holding his kabuto under his left arm. His right arm rested on his leg as he bowed in deep prayer before the Amida Buddha, jet black as his armor. He would need all the help of the gods and buddhas for this campaign. It was the beginning of August 1600, and he had to start moving his forces of 30,000 men as soon as possible to the west. Their destination, a plain in Mino province known as Sekigahara...

Walking to the north of Sengakuji, I arrived in the Zojoji Temple. This temple is usually one of the most photographed in Tokyo because it shows like no other the perfect combination of tradition and modernity. When standing in front of this temple with unmistakable ancient architectural lines, Tokyo Tower can be seen, peeking out from behind, like the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

This temple was the favorite of the Tokugawa clan during the Edo period. It belongs to the Jodo Buddhist sect, and although the temple was founded in 1393, it was Tokugawa Ieyasu who chose it as a family temple and moved it to its current location in 1598. In its heyday, it housed 120 buildings and more than 3,000 monks. Although the place feels old, it is actually a 20th century reconstruction. When the government was restored to Emperor Meiji in 1868, everything related to the deposed feudal government was destroyed including, of course, this temple. The little part that was standing fell under the bombs of World War II. An exception to all that destruction was the lacquered wooden red gate called Sangedatsumon, dating from 1622, which is now the beautiful gateway to the Zojoji grounds. The name of this door refers to the three states that harm our being: greed, hatred, and foolishness, which are supposed to remain outside when we pass through it.

After leaving my bad feelings at the portal, I walked towards the temple per se going up some stairs. To my right, I saw the belfry with its bell from 1673, once considered one of the three largest bells in Edo. I continued going up until I reached the Ankokuden building, where there is an image called Kurohonzon —a black Amida Buddha to which Tokugawa Ieyasu regularly prayed to succeed in his military campaigns. This image is not usually displayed to the public, but since ancient times, believers visit the temple to achieve success in any project they start, perhaps emulating the fate of the old warrior. Following a path by the right side of the Daiden or main building, and along the road marked by Jizo statues, I came to a sector of tombs. There, behind a wall and an extremely low entrance door, is the Tokugawa Mausoleum of the temple, where six of the fifteen Tokugawa shoguns of the entire dynasty rest. Among them is Hidetada Tokugawa, Ieyasu’s son and second ruler of the family. An old iron portal that is kept closed delimits the sector with two dragons carved on its sides and, in each door, five Tokugawa clan bronze kamon stand. Once through the portal, I entered a kind of pebble-covered courtyard in the middle of lush vegetation, with a path surrounding the entire place to pay respects to each of the shoguns.

A place of great peace in the middle of the modern Minato Ku area.

Sangedatsumon portal

Tokugawa Mausoleum

Kira the Unworthy

Darkness covered everything but a few feet ahead. Snow fell heavily on sleepy Edo during that winter night of 1702. Forty-seven silent shadows, dressed in their jimbahori coats, walked down the streets of Ryogoku. Once in front of the house of the unworthy, they divided into two groups. One would attack from the front and the other, from the rear. When crossing the walls, the first confrontations began. Little by little, they killed all the guards, being careful not to kill any servants. Despair began to arise when they could not find Kira anywhere, although they were sure he was inside the house. When they finally discovered his hiding place in a hidden shed, they brought Kira to their leader, Oishi Kuranosuke. As a man of integrity, he gave Kira one last chance to die honorably by seppuku. This opportunity was immediately rejected. Without saying another word, Oishi immediately drew the sword with which his lord had committed suicide, and with a single blow, he cut off Kira’s head. There were no celebrations. Just serenity...

In feudal Japan, there were villages and domains where nowadays there are neighborhoods, cities, and prefectures. Perhaps that was the greatest challenge of my trip: finding the historical sites hidden in modern residential areas.

This is how, in the heart of the Ryogoku neighborhood, I found the remains of what was once the home of Mr. Kira Yoshihiza, the Shogun’s master of ceremonies at the beginning of the 18th century. At present, only one garden of the property remains, which is very well preserved, in one of the corners of the neighborhood. Its white walls and black tiles are not very high, and they made me think how unsafe they must have been to stop 47 samurai determined to kill the owner of the house and having nothing to lose. Behind the walls, a willow tree appears, its branches falling sadly over the pale walls. To the left of the entrance door, there is a stone with kanji inscriptions, perfectly delimited by a chain. The black wooden doors are wide open. As I passed through the portal, I came across a statue of Kira, dressed in a black outfit and a hat, a style worn by the nobles of the feudal era. To my right, a small Shinto altar surrounded by red sashimono flags and a red torii. Some paintings depicting the incident hung on the internal walls and some information brochures about what happened in that place complete the setting. There is also a bench where I sat to imagine, even for a few minutes, that tragic snowy December night, when the 47 ronin did justice for the offense made to their lord in one of the greatest acts of loyalty of all times in universal history. For a few moments I stared at the statue of Kira as if I wanted to warn him of the attack he was going to suffer, but it was useless. His pride was greater than his fear... 

Kira's house

Katana

“He has the virtue of great compassion; thus, he appears in a bluish-black body. He has the virtue of great meditative stillness; thus, he sits on a vajra-rock. He has great wisdom; thus, he manifests great flames. He grasps the sword of great wisdom to destroy greed, anger and ignorance.”

–Extract of Sutra by Fudo Myoo

Walking 15 minutes to the north from Kira’s house, I got to the Japanese Sword Museum, also known as Token Hakubutsukan. This museum, founded in 1968, is sponsored by the Society for Preservation of the Japanese Sword and was formerly located in Shibuya until 2017, when it was moved to a modern three-story building facing the Sumida River and next to the Old Yasuda Garden from the Edo period. As soon as I crossed its doors, I began to appreciate in detail true works of art exhibited in spacious rooms with perfectly distributed display cabinets. At the bottom of each piece, there is all the information regarding each weapon in the collection. The prevailing silence added to the dim light, typical of all Japanese museums, created a certain air of mysticism, inviting me not only to observe what was on display, but also to use all my senses. My whole body was ready to memorize each object to the detail. Objects that, by the way, have a thousand-year tradition in the military and cultural history of the country. There, I was able to enjoy the best blades of tanto aikuchi, wakisashi, katanas, and tachis made by the most renowned masters of the modern era, plus some exquisite ancient pieces, such as a 13th century blade signed by Kuniyuki, which is the only blade from this smith considered a National Treasure. This blade was in the hands of the Matsudaira clan, lord of Akashi in Harima province.

The katana and its predecessor, the tachi, are considered unique weapons in terms of what they represented, rather than the function they fulfilled. It was a weapon, and more importantly, a symbol of power and status in the social structure of the time, but also, a symbol of the soul of its bearer. It represented his honor and courage. Today, many families descending from samurai keep these swords within their family as true jewels of their ancestors.

Nowadays, the martial art that preserves the technique of handling the sword with most respect and refinement of all is iaido. This discipline descended from ancient kenjutsu and flourished in the Edo period until it was outlawed during the Meiji Restoration, at which point the carrying of swords was definitively prohibited. All schools born before that moment are considered as koryu or old schools. At the beginning of the 20th century, the handling of the sword reappeared as gendai budo or modern budo. The main objective was the spiritual development and growth of the person who practiced it. Today, both modern and ancient ways are learned. It is very moving to practice forms that are centuries old and that have been passed down from generation to generation, feeling the weight of the sword in your hands, its correct balance, the sound it makes when you strike and the elegance of each of its movements. The state of alert, the concentration and the correct attitude help transport the practitioner to times where the correct use of the sword meant the difference between life and death...

Yasuda Garden, next to the Museum of the Japanese Sword

Living in Edo

The elder man walked slowly, hand in hand with his daughter, along the streets of Edo trying to remember images from the past. The movement was constant. The city had been the most crowded in the world for many years now. Thousands of samurai walked through its dirt roads every day, barbarian men who, although being only ten percent of the population, were enough to disturb the peace of the city. Merchants and artisans ran their shops, and the hustle and bustle were unbearable for a man of his age. The outcasts completed the sad image of little virtuosity seen in the streets. This last kind of people included butchers, gravediggers, beggars, and prostitutes. Long ago, he had tried to leave a decent image of the city, and his art was highly valued, but he had to surrender to reality. Edo had become something vastly different from what his work reflected. It was time to shave his head and retire to live a religious life...

I continued walking around the Ryogoku area, since there were countless sites to discover within a few blocks. That is how I made my way to the Edo Museum behind the Kokugikan Sumo Hall, where the most important tournaments in Japan are held.

This museum, founded in 1993, displays items, replicas, and models of the city of Edo from the 16th