Blossom (Part 1)

Although Japan is famous for sakura, or cherry blossom, it is the plum, or ume, that is associated with the start of spring, because it flowers first. The Hanezu Odori - dance of the red plum blossom - takes place towards the end of March every year at the Zuishin-in Temple. Beautiful and curvy-rooved though they are, temples are already starting to look well, a bit like all the other temples, so the prospect of some flowers and a bit of dancing to liven up proceedings was all the incentive we needed to board the train to Kyoto.

The dance commemorates the love affair over a thousand years ago between the poetess Ono-no-Komachi and Fukakusa Shosho, a courtier who sought her hand. Shosho was supposed to make 100 nightly visits to prove his love for Ono. Sadly he died after the 99th visit. So Japanese....

What's even more impressive about this story is that I've mentioned it since to a number of people here and they ALL seem to know about it. The fact that 10th century poets are so easily recalled says a lot about the value placed on tradition in Japanese society, and compares starkly with the fact that we'd probably struggle to remember Yoko Ono, let alone someone who died in 900 AD.

From Zuishin-in it was a short subway ride to Nijo Castle. We'd been here before, almost a year ago, but it's such an impressive place that it was definitely worth another visit. Kyoto was the capital of Japan for over a thousand years up until the Meiji Restoration in 1868, when that privilege was passed to Tokyo. Nijo Castle was built in 1600 by the Tokugawa shogunate at the height of its powers and is quintessentially samurai. In fact it was here that the final Tokugawa shogun returned political power to the Emperor, effectively marking the end of the samurai.

For extra security, and to guard against incursions from ninja assassins, the floor was suspended above the frame using special iron clamps, and moved up and down over the fixing nails when walked upon. The nails rub against the wood and create a sound similar to the cheeping of a nightingale - hence the name, 'nightgale floor'. In case you're wondering, it sounds like this. A pretty tone-deaf nightingale maybe, but you get the general idea.