It’s no secret that I love reading, or that I read widely, eagerly embracing many different genres and enjoying books for all ages. In fact, I estimate that I’ve read over 3,000 books in my life. With so many books under my belt, it may be surprising that I remember any of them. It’s true, some books are quick reads, offering momentary pleasure, and are easily forgotten. But some books stick with me and have a lasting influence on the way I see the world.
One such book is North to Freedom, by Anne Holm. Published in Danish in 1963, and translated to English by L. W. Kingsland in 1965, it’s the story of a young boy, David, who was raised in an Eastern European concentration camp. In the beginning of the book, David lies awake, wondering if he should trust the Man who told him to escape that night. He worries that it’s a trick. He will be shot or electrocuted crossing the fence. Or he will be recaptured and punished for the attempt.
Life is the camp is horrible. Feeling he has little to lose, David does escape and his adventure begins. Though he expects to be killed at any moment, David gradually learns to value his freedom. I remember being totally caught up in his story as David first discovered beauty in the world and tasted his first orange.
I’m not really sure why this book drew me in so completely. I first read it in 5th or 6th grade, before I had any knowledge of the political climate of the day, the cold war, or any current events. I think I had heard or read of Nazi Germany and their concentration camps, but this was not about World War II. Really, nothing in young David’s life related to anything in my life. I had never been imprisoned, or gone without food, or had to travel secretly on my own, or worry about capture. I knew what it was like to be in a family.
True, I had tasted oranges. Growing up in California, I knew oranges well, and loved sucking the juice out of them. Perhaps it was my shock at the poverty of a life without such simple pleasures that made me connect with this book.
Or perhaps I was seduced by the writing, which is certainly compelling. As a reader, I cared for David from the first few paragraphs when the Man has told him he must escape, and David must decide whether or not to believe him.
In the end, I suspect I was drawn to the character of David himself, who in spite of all he’d been through, is fundamentally a good person. He can see good in others and in the world, in spite of all his hardships. I don’t know if I already believed this to be true before reading the book, but it is an attitude I still embrace. Bad things happen, and bad people exist, but there’s also a world of good around us, if only we open our eyes to it. David knew that, and so his story lives with me.
Whatever the reason I remember this book so well, it is a treasure I highly recommend. Perhaps you too will remember it fondly half a century after reading it.
Before the modern roads and cars criss-crossed the country, before the railroad connected the east and west, even before the famed Pony Express dashed across the deserts, there was the Butterfield Overland Stage route, a series of stations linking the two halves of the nation. The Pinery is one such station in what is now Northern Texas.It is located at the top of Guadalupe Pass, in what is now Guadalupe Mountain National Park, with a view of Guadalupe Peak, the highest point in Texas.
The crumbling stone building is not much to look at now, but for a brief time, this place was an important stop on the Butterfield Overland Stage route. John Butterfield set up the route to skirt south of the Rocky Mountains, so that mail could be delivered year-round. The Route, from St. Louis to San Francisco, opened in 1858 and ran until the start of the Civil War. It was some 2,800 miles long, with about 200 stations along the way. This station here at the Pinery was closed in 1859, only a year after opening because of the constant danger of raids from the Mescalero Apaches living in the area.
The site had been used previously as a military camp. When the place was repurposed as a stage stop, a corral and station house were built. The corral, at 2,211 square feet, was nearly as big as the station house, which was 2,337 square feet. The station had three rooms, a fire place, and stone walls that were 30 inches thick, in the vain hope they would offer protection from the Natives. Within a few months, a high-walled rock enclosure protected a wagon repair shop and a black smith shop, in addition to the station house and corral. Including the station master, seven or eight men worked full time at the station.
The only thing left today is a partial stone wall, buttressed by wood braces. But the sight still evokes images of that rattling coach blasting into the yard in a cloud of dust. No overnight stop or meal service was offered. With just a quick change of horses, the driver took off again, trying, and usually succeeding, in making the entire journey in 25 days. This was almost miraculous, considering before the Butterfield Overland Coach, mail to California was sent by ship around the tip of South America, a journey of four to eight months. Delivering the mail was the primary purpose of the stage, but the occasional passenger braved the trip as well. Such travel was far from comfortable. In fact, one passenger compared the trip to hell.
Today we take communication for granted. We carry cell-phones in our pockets to talk or write instantly to friends, family, and businesses world wide. Packages can be sent across the country in days. But the world of 150 years ago was incredibly different. As young men and women moved westward, a good-bye to a parent or sibling might be forever. People left behind might never learn the fate of those who had gone away.
Over the years, telegraphs replaced the pony express. Then telephones replaced telegraphs. Roads and rails were built and the vast wildernesses crossed. In the modern age of constant connection, I think it’s worth remembering the self-reliance and independence of those who forged ahead, tetherless, without a ‘lifeline’ to ask for help.
I have alway loved education and dreamed of going to college from the time I was about ten years old. I have happily pursued that dream in many different places. Years ago, I attended classes at the Sorbonne University in Paris, France. At the time, I learned that the Sorbonne was one of the first established universities in the world. Founded between 1160 and 1250, it is certainly among the oldest in Europe. However, since the university suspended operation during the French revolution and the upheaval following, the Sorbonne is not the longest-running university in Europe.
In fact, the title for ‘oldest university’ is in dispute, partly because there are different interpretations of what constitutes a university. Currently, a university is considered to be an institute of higher learning offering degrees in multiple, diverse programs. The word ‘university’ comes from the Latin phrase, universitas magistrorum et scholarium ” meaning community of masters and scholars’. By that definition we would have to consider the scholars of ancient Greece, China, and the Middle East as constituting ‘universities,’ and predating anything else in Europe, Asia, or Africa.
Perhaps it is the idea of continuous operation that determines which university is oldest. However even with this definition, we still have multiple contenders for the title. Most often, the University of Bologna in Italy, founded in 1088 with a focus in law studies is listed as the first. However, nearly 200 years earlier, the university of Al-Quarawiynn was begun in Morocco. The founder was a woman named Fatima al-Fihri, and the center offered differing degrees in varying subjects. Both of these institutions are still in existence.
Salamanca University Library
Recently I visited Salamanca University, founded in 1134, and receiving a royal charter in 1218. This institution legitimately lays claim to the title ‘oldest University in Spain.’ Among the many famous and infamous students are Christopher Columbus, Hernando Cortez, Miguel de Cervantes, and the first Grand Inquisitor of Spain, Tomás de Torquemada.
However, de Alava’s message to 16th century viewers was probably quite different. What we call a frog is more likely a toad, which was a symbol of female sexuality. The creature is perched on a skull, symbolizing death. The message to the medieval (male) students was clear: Don’t dally with women and give in to carnal lusts or you are doomed.
Regardless of the university’s title or its former students, the buildings housing the University of Salamanca are breathtakingly beautiful. Staircase banisters are made of elaborately carved stone. The library, one of the oldest in Europe, is a scholar’s dream. I visited on a rain-soaked day in late fall. Standing under dripping umbrellas, my companions and I found the legendary stone frog perches on a stone skull near the entryway. The elaborate work of this entry was designed by Juan de Alava and completed in the 16th century. According to the current legend, any students who cannot find the frog are bound to fail in their studies.
In the end, it doesn’t really matter which university is oldest, first, or longest running. The University of Salamanca is certainly on my list of great places for learning.
Most historic places I write about are manmade, created by human efforts. Muir Woods is a different kind of place, a natural wonder, preserved, but not created, by people.
Many of the majestic trees in this old growth redwood forest are over 600 years old, surviving floods, fires, and the logging booms of the 19th century. People have lived among these ancient trees for thousands of years. For centuries, California natives, such as the Coast Miwok, managed the land they called home. European settlers drove the natives out or enslaved them, and cut many of the redwood forests down for forts, houses, stores, and other buildings. The canyon along Redwood Creek escaped such demolition only because the owners had protected it.
Elizabeth and William Kent donated their holdings to the public in 1908. That same year, the area was designated a national monument, and named for John Muir. Muir was renowned for his writings about both the beauty of and the need for old growth forests. He led efforts to preserve Yosemite Valley and Sequoia National Park.
Though few remain, coast redwoods are the tallest living trees on the planet. They can grow to be over 375 feet tall. In Muir Woods, the tallest tree reaches over 250 feet. (That compares to a 23 story skyscraper.) Though not the oldest type of tree, redwoods can live for thousands of years.
A hike among the trees in Muir Woods is humbling and inspiring. A soft layer of needles underfoot deadens the sound of footfalls, and the grounds around the trees are carpeted with ferns and redwood sorrel.
The rich scent of conifers brings back childhood memories of picnicking inside a huge redwood hollowed out by fire. My eyes are constantly drawn upwards, reaching to the heavens. The light filtering through the crowns feels like a blessing.
Though redwoods can survive low intensity fires, extremely hot fires that stem from years of fire suppression, can kill the trees. Climate change is also affecting the trees, as they need moisture from the coastal fogs. We didn’t create this ancient beauty, but I sincerely hope we continue to value and preserve it.
Sometime in 1965 or 1966, when I was ten or eleven, my father brought home a small sailboat, and I fell in love with sailing. In high school, my interest in history and love of tall ships melded with a field trip to San Francisco’s Maritime Museum and the Balclutha.
At that time, the Balclutha was moored at Pier 41 East. Stepping onto the deck of a ship more than three quarters of a century old fueled my imagination. I closed my eyes and listened to the creak of lines, the groaning deck, and the screech of gulls flying overhead. As the ship rocked gently beneath me, I imagined the crew scrambling up the ratlines, the captain calling out orders. Below decks, the narrow passageways and cramped quarters conjured stories of the life of the sailors. Even the captain’s rooms, though luxurious by comparison, were tiny and dark. In some ways it reminded me of an RV, with every tiny space optimized for storage.
The Balclutha was launched in 1886, from Glasgow, Scotland. Christened She is square-rigged with three masts and twenty-five sails, and is one of the only two such ships left in the United States. She carried cargo of coal, lumber, salmon, and other goods for over 50 years.
The Balclutha made seventeen trips around the horn in thirteen years. For most of the ship’s history, she was manned by a crew of about twenty-six men. Only the captain of such a ship could bring his wife aboard for the trip around the horn and back again. Her last captain under British registration was Captain Durkee. His wife, Alice, accompanied him on at least one voyage, and gave birth to their daughter on March 11, 1899. The ship was in the Indian Ocean, bound for San Francisco, and so they named the little girl, Inda Frances.
That same year, the Balclutha joined the Pacific lumber trade as a Hawaiian ship. She carried lumber from the Pacific Northwest for mines in Australia. She was the last vessel to sail under the flag of the Kingdom of Hawaii. In 1901, her registry was officially transferred to the United States of America. She worked the Pacific Coast, transporting salmon from Alaskan canneries to San Francisco, and men and supplies back to Alaska. She was retired in 1930.
Even in retirement, the Balclutha had work to do. She was purchased in 1933 and sailed south to Catalina Island. There she starred along with Clark Gable in the film, Mutiny on the Bounty.
In 1954, the tired, old ship was purchased by the San Francisco Maritime Museum, and renovated. In 1978, ownership was transferred to the National Park Service and she was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 1985.
Today, the ship is moored at Hyde Street Pier, welcoming tourists aboard and sparking the imagination of writers like me.
Before automobiles took over transportation throughout the United States, railroads reigned supreme. Before trucks used interstates, highways, and county roads to transport goods cross-country, there were trains.
This was just as true in Oregon as anywhere else. In fact there were railroads in Oregon in the 1850’s. These mule-powered tramways were often used in the logging industry to move timber.
In 1861, steam-powered trains arrived in Oregon. The first was a five mile stretch of the Oregon Portage Railroad, from Tanner Creek to the Cascade Rapids. The first locomotive was called the Oregon Pony.
Gradually, the southern Pacific Railroad took over operations of most of the rails in Oregon. For a time, Southern Pacific was well known for through service linking California and Washington State. The SP also had many side branches to smaller communities and was very important for the timber industry along the Oregon coast.
Nowadays, scenic trains for tourists run along sections of the Oregon coast. One such is the Rockaway Beach to Garibaldi round trip route. The outbound leg of the trip is about 30 minutes and offers magnificent views of the Pacific Ocean, sandy beaches, and rocky cliffs along the way. At the Garibaldi station there are several vintage trains cars and engines to view, and time to catch a great fish and chips lunch at a nearby food truck before the return trip.
Southern Pacific Railroad Depot, built in 1936. It is one of the last one room depots in the US.
Train travel has lost some of its importance over the years and is no longer the most important way to move goods or people. However, the lure of the steam engine, the clacking of wheels on rails, the conductors’ call of ‘all aboard, still bring a sense of adventure. Whenever I hear a distant train whistle, I want to climb on board and see where the journey will take me.
From healthful to harmful, sugar has undergone a remarkable journey in the perceptions of its users.
Sugar originally comes from New Guinea, where it was first cultivated around 8000 BCE. For several thousand years people chewed on sugar cane to savor the sweetness. Gradually cultivation of sugarcane spread to India and the Philippines. People in India were the first to refine sugar, and developed the first sugar mill about 100 CE. Greeks learned of sugar from the Indians. By 500 CE Arab scholars were studying sugar as a powerful medicine, and Arab cooks were using it in all sorts of meat, nut, and grain recipes
In medieval and renaissance Europe, the general opinion was that sugar had strong medicinal virtues and was especially good against cough and sore throats, and was also useful against sourness and bitterness. Indeed, sugar was used to make other medicines more palatable- much like the sugary sweet cough syrups marketed today.
It is difficult to determine how much sugar was used in early English cookery. Elizabethan England average consumption was 1 pound per person per year (MW p. 11). But only the wealthy had easy access to sugar and sugar was used primarily for preserving fruits, making sweets, and brewing medicines. The growing use of sugar led to blackened, rotting teeth, at least among the wealthy, who were the only ones who could afford the luxury of sugar. Queen Elizabeth I was well known for her love of sugar and sugary products. Her teeth fell out by the time she was fifty. Although I have not found any actual evidence for the practice, several websites claim the wealthy Tudors used a sugar paste to clean their teeth.
By colonial times sugar manufacture was greatly improved and expanded (in large part due to enslaved workers in North American Colonies). In spite of import duties, (Molasses Act of 1733 and Sugar Act of 1764), sugar was much more affordable for the growing middle class. While many early recipes are quite sweet, sugar was mostly used in small quantities as a spice or flavor enhancer, like salt. Still, more and more recipes specifically meant to offer something sweet appear in early cookbooks.
Nowadays, high fructose corn syrup replaces cane sugar in many processed foods, to the detriment of the modern diet. Even though we know too much sugar of any kind is bad for a person, humans are hard-wired to seek high-calorie foods and many of us have a strong ‘sweet tooth.’ I know I’m not the only one in the US who consumes too much sugar. Efforts to have both a healthy diet and a steady supply of sweet treats have led to many sugar substitutes, including artificial sweeteners (aspartame, Saccharin, or Sucralose,…) and natural ones (Stevia, monk fruit…)
As for me, I still remember the 1960’s jingle advertising sugar: “C&H, C&H—pure cane sugar from Hawaii”. Hawaii was only recently a state at the time (it became a state in 1959) and was considered somewhat exotic. I didn’t recognize the advertising ploy to increase sales and push sugar usage. I just liked to watch the cute Hawaiian kids dancing in the commercial.
Attitudes toward sugar have definitely changed over the centuries. Although sugar is no longer seen as a healthy food, the modern world has a love/hate relationship with it. We crave it even though we know it’s bad for us. Personally, I’m not ready to give up on sugar, but I wholeheartedly advise against using it to brush your teeth.
Recipes:
In Colonial times, sugar came in cones, and needed to be clarified with egg white and boiled water. Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery gives instructions at the beginning of the section on sweetmeats.
To know how to clarify your Sugar
Take a pinte of faire water & beat the white of an egg into it to a froth, then put a pound of sugar in to it, & let it boyle very fast, & there will rise a black scum on ye top of it. As it riseth, take it of till it is very clear, & then streyne it through a Jelly bagg or wet cloth, & soe use it as you pleas. To every pound of sugar as you clarify, you must put a pinte of faire water, & ye white of an egg. ye white of one egge will clarefy 2 pounds of sugar as well as one pound. (MW 225)
Sugar is so well refined today there is no longer any need to clarify it, so to try this out, I used reproduction cone sugar. The recipe above is quite clear and easy to follow. I cut it in half, using 1 cup of water and ½ pound of sugar with one egg white.
After clarifying your sugar, here is one way to use it.
To candy Ginger
Get the fairest pieces, pare off the rind, and lay them in water twenty-four hours; then boil double-refined sugar to the height of sugar again, and when it begins to be cold, put in your ginger and stir it till it is hard to the pan; then afterwards put it into a warm pan, tie it up close, and the candy will be firm. (Townshend, 261)
Although this recipe seems simple, there are several confusing phrases. First, ‘double-refined sugar’ means clarified sugar, but I have not been able to find what ‘to the height of sugar’ means. Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery gives several stages of candy making, roughly corresponding to modern stages. However, neither her directions nor any modern cookbook gives ‘sugar’ as one of the stages. I experimented with boiling the ginger in clarified sugar syrup to different heights. I found that bringing the syrup to a soft ball stage of 235˚ produced the best candy as lower temperatures were too sticky. The candied ginger at this stage cooled to create a product similar to crystallized ginger.
The second phrase that gives me pause is ‘stir it till it is hard to the pan’. I was not able to find any further information on what this means. It sounds like the cook recommends boiling until all the liquid is used up and the ginger slices stick. That seems impractical to me, so I just boiled the ginger slices until the syrup reached the desired temperature.
For the modern version of this recipe, peel and slice 4 oz. of ginger. Soak the ginger in water for 24 hours. Drain the water. Next boil the slices of ginger in ½ c. of clarified sugar syrup, to 235˚. Stir occasionally, and watch carefully as the syrup can easily boil over. Remove the ginger from the syrup and lay out in a single layer to dry for a few days. The resulting candy is slightly chewy, and has a very strong, (peppery hot) ginger flavor.
Sources —–. Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery and Booke of Sweetmeats. (A Family Manuscript, Hand written circa 17th century. Transcribed and annotated by Karen Hess, New York: Columbia University Press, 1995).
Townshend, John. The Universal Cook or Lady’s Complete Assistant. S. Bladon: London, 1773 (facsimile).
In elementary school, we all learn about the Lewis and Clark expedition, that epic journey of discovery. Most of us have also heard of Sacagawea, and her vital role in the expedition as translator, guide, and ambassador. Less well-known are the living conditions of the company. Since I’m especially interested in women’s contributions to history I find Sacagawea’s story fascinating, not just because of the important guidance she gave the captains, but also because of her skill as a mother.
Sacagawea and her son, Jean-Baptiste Charbonneau, at Fort Clatsop
Remember, Sacagawea was a Shoshoni girl about 10 years old when she was kidnapped by the Hidatsa. She was taken from her home in Idaho to a village near Mandan, North Dakota. There she was sold, along with another girl from her village, to a Frenchman, Toussaint Charbonneau. Charbonneau married both girls, though I have never heard whether or not the girls agreed to the wedding.
In any case, Sacagawea gave birth to their son, Jean-Baptiste Charbonneau (nicknamed Pompey), on February 11, 1805. Less than two months later, on April 5, 1805, the company departed for the west, with Sacagawea carrying her infant son.
Now I’d be the last to suggest that modern parenting is easy. All decisions regarding the health, safety, and future happiness of the child rest on the parent’s shoulders. But today we have disposable diapers, along with innumerable gadgets, equipment, toys, and carrying devices to make caring for an infant easier. Can you imagine setting off on a journey with your child on your back? There were no air-conditioned cars or motels along the way. Sacagawea travelled by foot, horse or open boat the entire journey, and she kept her baby alive.
In the winter of 1806, when Pompey was still less than one year old, the Lewis and Clark expedition reached the Pacific Ocean and built Fort Clatsop. They started building on December 8, 1805, and moved in on Christmas Eve, though the roof was not yet finished. Although Sacagawea had a vote in the decision of where to put the fort, I’m sure she never imagined the mud.
Fort Clatsop (reconstruction) Lewis and Clark National Monument, Oregon
Days and days of mud.
I visited Fort Clatsop on a beautiful, warm and sunny day. The surrounding cedar forest was cool and shady, with a carpet of soft needles lining the paths. The Lewis and Clark expedition had a vastly different experience. Of their three month stay at this fort, it rained all but twelve days.
On top of the endless rain, the fort was built for military purposes, not comfort. Thirty two men, one woman, a baby, and a dog lived in the two buildings. The angled roofs were high on the outer edges, and sloped down to a central courtyard. That means all that rain collected in the narrow yard between the buildings. Inside was dark, smoky, and full of fleas. Outside was wet.
Small, high windows provide little light.Rough bunks provide little comfort.
Here Pompy passed his first birthday. He probably crawled about in the mud and played with the men or the dog. He may have spoken his first words and learned to walk. And through it all, Sacagawea kept him healthy.
We learn from the journals Lewis and Clark kept that they left Fort Clatsop on March 23, 1806, as soon as they could. Everyone was tired of this miserable fort. I imagine Sacagawea was just as anxious as the men to leave. The journey back would be long and arduous, but never boring.
Perhaps having a roof over one’s head is not such a luxury where there’s a sea of mud beneath one’s feet.
Consider the egg: A compact, portable package full of protein and other nutrients, a treasure enjoyed by humans since the first human walked the earth. It’s really not surprising that such an ancient and valuable food source has also become a symbol of life. In fact, many ancient peoples believed the egg represented the creation of the world. As such, eggs feature significantly in various origin myths.
Egg-laying jungle fowl (the ancestors of chickens) were first domesticated in Southeast Asia in prehistoric times. Eggs were eaten in Ancient Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, and Rome. Medieval peasants raised chickens and enjoyed whatever eggs were not owed in rent. Early American Colonists brought chickens to North America. (Native people had been eating wild bird eggs for millenia.)
One of the simplest ways to eat eggs is to boil them, but as with any food so popular and economical, fancier ways have been developed. The recipe for today is eggs á la creme, a tasty and elegant dish involving hard boiled eggs and a cream sauce. The recipe comes from Mary Randolph’s The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook (p.87).
EGGS A-LA-CREME
Boil 12 eggs just hard enough to allow you to cut them in slices–cut some crusts of bread very thin, put them in the bottom and round the sides of a moderately deep dish, place the eggs in strewing each layer with the stale bread grated, and some pepper and salt
SAUCE A-LA-CREME FOR THE EGGS
Put a quarter pound of butter with a large tablespoon of flour rubbed well into it in a saucepan; add some chopped parsley, a little onion, salt, pepper, nutmeg, and gill of cream; stir it over the fire until it begins to boil, then pour it over the eggs, cover the top with grated bread, set it in a Dutch oven with a heated top, and when light brown, send it to table
A few notes:
This recipe is fairly straight-forward, with few unfamiliar words. A gill equals approximately ¼ cup.
A oven broiler substitutes very well for a Dutch oven with a heated lid.
Toasting the bread before putting it in the dish helps keep the bread from getting soggy.
Modern version: A Tasty Dish of Eggs
¼ c. butter
1 T. flour
¼ t. Salt
¼ t. Nutmeg
¼ t. Pepper
1-2 T. onion (chopped fine)
1 T. parsley (chopped fine)
½ c. (1 gill) cream
4 hard-boiled eggs
4 toast slices
¼ c. bread crumbs
Melt the butter in a saucepan. Stir in flour, salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Add the cream. Bring to a boil and stir until thickened. (Add a little more cream or milk if the sauce gets too thick.) Remove from heat. Peel and slice your hardboiled eggs. Lay the unbuttered toast slices in a dish. Lay the sliced eggs on top. Spoon the cream sauce over the eggs. Sprinkle the bread crumbs on top. Place under a broiler for a few minutes, just until the crumbs are toasted.
This makes a very tasty dish for lunch or supper. You might even enjoy it as a change of pace for breakfast. It is very similar to Eggs Benedict, though the sauce is thicker.
Let me explain. The great castles of Europe were massive stone structures, built for defense against large groups of marauders. Many are also beautiful, but the aesthetic is not the primary goal.
On the other hand, while Nijo-jo was also built for defense, beauty, peace, and serenity are equally valued. In this way, it is more like the later, ornate palaces of Europe’s 18th century, built at least in part to show off to other nobles.
Nijo-jo was planned and constructed in the early 17th century, at the beginning of the Edo period, when Japan was ruled by the Tokugawa family–the Tokugawa shogunate- and Kyoto was the Imperial Capital of Japan. The first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate, Ieyasu Tokugawa, used it as his residence whenever he was in Kyoto.
Though lighter and airier than some of its European counterparts, Nijo-jo has its share of fortifications. The castle complex has an inner and an outer ring of defense, each ring consisting of a stone wall and a moat. Originally, the outer wall had four watchtowers, but only two of these remain. These tall, white buildings with distinctly Japanese curved roofs are landmarks in Kyoto.
Three gates in the outer wall provide access to the Ninomaru area, which includes the Ninomaru palaces and gardens. The five interconnecting buildings of the palace are mostly made of cyprus wood and are decorated with gold leaf. Elegant wall and screen door paintings and ornate carvings were meant to further impress visitors with the shogun’s power and wealth.
There are two gates in the inner wall, leading to the Hon-maru area. When first built, his inner palace was similar to the 1603 Ninomaru palace, but in 1893 some of the buildings from the Katsura Palace in theKyoto Imperial Enclosure were moved here, replacing the older buildings.
Between the inner and outer walls, visitors can stroll through the 400 year old Zen Buddhist gardens. This garden features a small lake, with three islands and several artfully placed stones.
The most unusual defensive aspect of Nijo-jo are its Nightingale Floors. How are squeaky (singing) floors defensive? Well no one can walk on them without making noise, thus alerting the guards within the castle. The floors were designed so that the nails of the slightly curved floor boards would rub on the joint clamps. It’s possible that the resulting chirping was an accident of design, but I prefer the legend. After all, floors that sing a warning add an aura of magic to an already awe-inspiring place.
BRIC-A-BRAC 