“Nagaoka-kyo, the first capital of Japan,” the inscription reads, etched onto the cool, smooth surface of the granite plaque. It is a quiet moment, a pause in the bustling rhythm of Kyoto, where history whispers through the centuries. The plaque stands as a testament to a forgotten city, Nagaoka-kyo, a grand dream that lasted just a decade, from 784 to 794. Emperor Kanmu, yearning for a capital free of the challenges that plagued Heijô-kyô, chose this site, conveniently nestled at the confluence of three major rivers, the Katsura, the Uji, and their combined flow, the Yodo. It was a strategic move, a gamble to usher in a new era of prosperity and security. The palace that graced this location was a marvel of engineering, with wells in almost every house, a sophisticated sewage system, and clean water flowing from the hillside. But fate, alas, had other plans. Rumors of a vengeful spirit, spurred by the untimely death of Emperor Kanmu’s brother, Prince Sawara, and the relentless floods that ravaged the city, led to its abandonment and the rise of Heian-kyô, later known as Kyoto. From those ashes, the name “Nagaoka” survived, though its regal past remained shrouded in mist for centuries. Now, as you stand here, gazing at the plaque, you can feel the echoes of a city lost, a reminder that history is a tapestry woven with dreams and disappointments.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to