Himeji Castle Nishinomaru Stephen

Wandering along the wooden corridors of the Nishinomaru, I was surrounded by history. The long, gently curving gallery known as Stephen’s Gallery (or Tsukimi Yagura) opened up glimpses of lush gardens below, framing the castle’s white keep in the distance through delicately latticed windows. Sunlight filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting patchwork shadows on polished floorboards. I paused often, simply to soak up the peaceful views of the moat, the sprawling green lawns, and the meticulous landscaping that seemed to marry wild nature with careful artistry.

What struck me most about the Nishinomaru was its atmosphere—both stately and deeply peaceful. It once housed Princess Sen, and as I stood on the veranda, I imagined life in the Edo period: ladies-in-waiting gliding through corridors, the laughter and quiet conversations echoing beneath the timber beams. Today, the area is alive instead with the muffled footsteps of visitors and the calls of distant birds.

My visit coincided with late spring, so the scent of blooming gardens wafted up from below, intermingling with the faint tang of ancient wood. From certain vantage points, the entire castle complex was visible—its imposing white towers, moats, and stone walls spread out like a living diorama. Sitting for a while, I felt time slow down, allowing me to reflect and simply be present in one of Japan’s national treasures.

Leaving the Nishinomaru and Stephen’s Gallery, I carried with me a sense of calm and admiration—not just for the grandeur of Himeji Castle, but for the quiet elegance of its western precincts. For anyone visiting, I highly recommend lingering here; it’s a corner of history and beauty that lingers long after you’ve walked away.