The City That Was Spared

Kanazawa sits between the Sea of Japan and the mountains. A river runs along each side of the old centre. Polly flew in over grey tiled roofs and narrow lanes that curved for no clear reason. She landed on a bridge rail above brown water moving fast toward the sea.

Most Japanese cities of this size look new in the middle, because most of them burned. In the last year of the war, through nineteen forty-four and into nineteen forty-five, bombing destroyed the wooden centres of city after city. Kanazawa had no big war factories. Kanazawa was spared. So the old city here is not a copy. It is the real thing.

That luck left Kanazawa with a street plan almost nobody else still has. The lanes bend, stop, and turn back. The old lords built them that way on purpose, so an attacking army would get lost inside the city instead of reaching the gates. Earthen walls still line the old samurai quarter.

In the middle of it all stood a low hill with pale roofs and long stone walls, and a famous garden beside them. Polly left the bridge and flew that way.