Archive for November, 2009

« Older Entries

Tchaikovsky and Noraebang (but not at the same time)

November 29th, 2009

It seemed appropriate that a week that began with Puccini should end with Tchaikovsky. I have decided, quite cheerfully I must add, that if it’s too cold to explore outdoors, the Arts will be my substitute source of wonder, so after a brunch opera on Monday, I spent Saturday night at the ballet.

Ballet has not always been a part of my life. I wasn’t one of those little girls who spends all her childhood years dreaming of tutus and pirouettes. I’ve been involved in dance in one form or another for years but it wasn’t until I became a regular Festino that I discovered the joy of ballet. There is a ballet every year at Fest, usually performed by the Cape Town City Ballet accompanied by one of the Johannesburg Orchestras, although they have on occasion had the South African Ballet Theatre and the Cape Philharmonic. Over the years, I’ve seen various ballets, including Coppelia, Don Quixote, The Nutcracker and, my favourite, Carmen.

This is the first time I have seem ballet outside of South Africa, so I was quite excited. I was also very nearly late. I somehow got it into my head at some point during the week that this was a 7:30pm ballet instead of a 7pm start and it only occurred to me to check at about 6:15pm on Saturday, while sitting calmly sewing a missing button back onto my coat. In a panic, I finished getting ready, rushed down the hill, drew money and grabbed a cab. Luckily, the venue, the Suseong Artpia, is literally 10 minutes from my house, so I was in time to get a ticket and find my seat before the start of the show. Tickets ranged from 20000 won (for seats in the balcony) to 40000 won (for the main block of seats right in front of the stage). I picked the middle-ground of a 30000 won ticket (R190), thereby avoiding at least some of the many, many children, while also avoiding being close enough to see the dancers sweat.

Suseong Artpia is another great Daegu venue. The main auditorium, the Yongi Hall, seats nearly 1000 people (including the large 2nd floor balcony) and has comfortable seats, well set so that everyone can see the stage and lovely, lovely acoustics. When I first took my seat, I wasn’t sure if they would be using a live orchestra. Most of the information for these shows is in Korean so it’s always a bit of a guessing game. Then I saw the top of a harp appear and heard them tuning up and was glad. Ballet is always better with live music.

This ballet was performed by the Seoul Ballet Theatre, with original choreography by James Jeon. The first impression I got was of a large production. As we waited for everyone to settled and the ushers rushed around with extra cushions for small children, I had a chance to notice that even the front of the stage was part of the set, with large nutcracker figures stretching from the stage to the ceiling on either side and the clock face hanging in the middle at the top. The curtains weren’t closed. Instead a screen showed a village with snowflakes falling (lights) and the words ‘Merry Christmas’ in lights across the middle of the screen. I felt the tingly joy of anticipation and magic.

The Nutcracker opens with families of mothers and fathers and children arriving at a Christmas Party in all their winter finery. From the first moment, with the orchestra sweeping the audience up in waves of beautiful music, the dancers carried us into a magical world with perfect characterisation and attention to detail. In some performances of the Nutcracker, the mysterious godfather, Herr Drosselmeyer, plays quite a small role. In this one, he was the ringmaster of the show and right from the start, it was he who led the audience into the ballroom, ‘commanding’ the screens to open and village scene to fade away. The first scene of The Nutcracker is lovely, with the children playing and the parents dancing. This one was particularly special because it seemed so natural – with almost equal attention to the acting/characterisation and dancing. I was struck right from the start by the exquisite performance and very strong dancing of the male lead dancing Clara’s father. The scene also had several delightfully authentic Korean touches – like the fact that everyone arriving and leaving would bow to each other and the important part played by the grandparents in the scene. It’s also great to see choreography that’s not scared to introduce little touches of modernity and humour. The battle between the mouse-king and the nutcracker included some fairly modern hip-hop-style moves from the mice, and when two of them were injured in the battle, some of the other mice come in with a huge syringe to revive them.

At the end of the first scene, Herr Drosselmeyer emerged from inside a large grandfather clock and, while Clara watched, made the Christmas tree grow to enormous size and transformed the nutcracker into a prince, all shown on stage with full props and sets. The set and lighting design, as well as the changes, were dramatic and life-sized, requiring very little work from the audiences’ imaginations. I couldn’t helping thinking that this must have been a really expensive production to put together. Not that I was complaining – it was perfectly executed and created layers and layers of magic.

The only bit of the choreography that I didn’t particularly enjoy was the dancing of the snowflakes in the second scene. It took me a while to figure out what I didn’t like about it but I think it’s because the dancing was too frenetic – there was a lot of focus on arm movements and it was a little mechanical, losing some of the gracefulness. I was soon distracted, however, by the children’s choir. It’s unusual, except in very large and expensive productions, to actually see the children’s choir included in the Nutcracker but it is a delightful part of the original score and definitely adds to the ballet.

Act II of the Nutcracker, with the sweets dancing dances from different countries, never fails to delight. This production included the traditional Arabian and Spanish dancers, as well as the Chinese and Russian but also included some traditional Korean dancers. All the dancers were good but some of the touches and some of the choreography raised this part of the ballet above the norm. The Chinese dancers, for example, were accompanied by the cutest, funniest little silver dragon who completely distracted the audience with its antics. The Russian dancers, perhaps because Korea is so much closer to Russia and the culture is therefore more familiar, seemed so incredibly happy and so authentic. The Korean dancers were the highlight for many of the audience and were fascinating to watch. The woman danced with an hour-glass-shaped drum that she carried over her shoulder and beat and used to swing herself around in the turns. More spectacular was a male dancer wearing the hat topped with what must have been a 6-foot long white streamer, from the Korean traditional farmer’s dance, which he swirled around as he jumped and danced with acrobatic movements across the stage. It really added a unique and impressive aspect to this part of the show. The dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Waltz of the Flowers were exquisite. There was none of the awkwardness of the snowflake dance. Instead, we were whirled away in a beautiful, flowing, elegant display of classical ballet. The prince danced, too, and was perhaps one of the most impressive dancers there. His leaps were perfectly executed, his movements both athletic and elegant and he was incredibly light on his feet. I was almost a little sad, when Her Drosselmeyer reappeared and transformed the magical world back into the ordinariness of Clara’s bedroom and she woke with her beloved Nutcracker.

The only negative about the show for me was the fact that, not surprisingly, so many parents had brought their young children and a few of them became restless during the third act. Still, even children chattering a little couldn’t really detract from this magical performance. The audience didn’t stand up – perhaps standing ovations are not done here – but the performers received three curtain calls and it was obvious that everyone was enchanted. Including me. I left humming ‘O come all ye faithful’, which they played as the audience was filing out, and full of the joy and magic of ballet and Christmas. In terms of the dancing, although I loved almost all of it, I was particularly impressed with the male leads. Perhaps just because there aren’t very many strong male dancers in South African ballet, these men blew me away. Clara’s father (danced, I think by Jeong Woon Sik) and the Prince (Kim Sung Hun – although both those names may be wrong) were both excellent.

I had originally tried to get a group together to go to the show but they all had a thanksgiving dinner planned. I’m so glad I went on my own anyway. It was a delightful. I joined some of my friends afterwards, though, and we ended up sampling a very different kind of Korean entertainment. Since I arrived here, I’ve been meaning to go to a Noraebang – a Korean karaoke room. Last night I went with three friends to try one out.

The others had all done this before but I was a Noraebang novice. This is a little different to the karaoke I’m used to at home. Instead of singing in front of a large (and not very attentive) audience in a crowded bar, each group gets a private room. In the room are comfortable couches arranged around a table and TV. On the table are a couple of books with lists of songs and a control console which you use to choose your song, as well as a tamborine. The range of songs is bizarre but there are always some fun ones. Once you’re chosen your song, one or two people pick up the mics and sing their hearts out. Not that you really hear a lot of what they’re singing – volume is permanently turned up rather high and the mics have some sort of built in reverb, so everyone sounds a little like a bad K-pop star. But that’s probably part of the fun. The four of us had a great time. We sang all sorts of things, from Moulin Rouge and Bon Jovi to Mariah Carey and Neil Diamond. In honour of the season, we also included a couple of Christmas numbers. We had a particularly funny moment when Christina found something called ‘The Christmas Song’ by Nat King Cole and we all watched as she put it on, not sure what to expect and then all jumped up at the same time and started singing at the tops of our voices as the words ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire’ appeared on the screen. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. After an hour and a half we didn’t even notice passing, we finished off with the almost obligatory ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. We said goodnight and I headed home to dream sweet dreams of chestnuts, princes, nutcrackers and sugar plum fairies.

Tchaikovsky and a Noraebang (but not at the same time)

It seemed appropriate that a week that began with Puccini should end with Tchaikovsky. I have decided, quite happily I must add, that if it’s too cold to explore outdoors, the arts will be my substitute source of moments of wonder, so after a brunch opera on Monday, I spent Saturday night at the ballet.

Ballet has not always been a part of my life. I wasn’t one of those little girls who spends all her childhood years dreaming of tutus and pirouettes. I’ve been involved in dance in one form or another for years but it wasn’t until I became a regular Festino that I discovered the joy of ballet. There is a full ballet every year at Fest, usually performed by the Cape Town Ballet Company accompanied by one of the Johannesburg Orchestras, although they have on occasion had the South African Ballet Theatre and the Cape Philharmonic. Over the years, I’ve seen various ballets, including Coppelia, Don Quixote, The Nutcracker and, my favourite, Carmen.

This is the first time I have seem ballet outside of South Africa, so I was quite excited. I was also very nearly late. I somehow got it into my head at some point during the week that this was a 7:30pm ballet instead of a 7pm start and it only occurred to me to check at about 6:15pm on Saturday, while sitting calmly sewing a missing button back onto my coat. In a panic, I finished getting ready, rushed down the hill, drew money and grabbed a cab. Luckily, the venue, the Suseong Artpia, is literally 10 minutes from my house, so I was (just) in time to get a ticket and be seated before the start of the show. Tickets ranged from 20000 won (for seats in the balcony) to 40000 won (for the main block of seats right in front of the stage). I picked the middle-ground of a 30000 won ticket (R190), thereby avoiding at least some of the many, many children and also avoiding being close enough to see the dancers sweat.

Suseong Artpia is another great venue. The main auditorium, the Yongi Hall, seats nearly 1000 people (including the large 2nd floor balcony) and has lovely, lovely acoustics. When I first took my seat, I wasn’t sure if they would be using a live orchestra. Most of the information for these shows is in Korean so it’s always a bit of a guessing game. Then I saw the top of a harp appear and heard them tuning up and was glad. Ballet is always better with live music.

This ballet was performed by the Seoul Ballet Theatre, with original choreography by James Jeon. The first impression I got was of a large production. As we waited for everyone to settled and the ushers rushed around with extra cushions for small children, I had a chance to notice that even the front of the stage was part of the set, with large nutcracker figures stretching from the stage to the ceiling on either side and the clock face hanging in the middle at the top. The curtains weren’t closed. Instead a screen showed a village with snowflakes falling (lights) and the words ‘Merry Christmas’ in lights across the middle of the screen. I felt the tingly joy of anticipation and magic.

The Nutcracker opens with families of mothers and fathers and children arriving at a Christmas Party in all their winter finery. From the first moment, with the orchestra sweeping the audience up in waves of beautiful music, the dancers carried us into a magical world with perfect characterisation and attention to detail. In some performances of the Nutcracker, the mysterious godfather of Clara and Fritz, Herr Drosselmeyer, plays quite a small role. In this one, he was the ringmaster of the show and right from the start, it was he who led the audience into the ballroom, by ‘commanding’ the screens to open and village scene to fade away. The first scene of The Nutcracker is always lovely, with the children playing and the parents dancing. This one was particularly special because it seemed so natural – with almost equal attention to the acting/characterisation and dancing. I was struck right from the start by the exquisite performance and very strong dancing of the male lead dancing Clara’s father. The scene also had several delightfully authentic Korean touches – like the fact that everyone arriving and leaving would bow to each other and the important part played by the grandparents in the scene. It’s also great to see choreography which is not scared to introduce little touches of modernity and humour. The battle between the mouse-king and the nutcracker included some fairly modern hip-hop-style moves from the mice, and when two of them were injured in the battle, some of the other mice come in with a huge syringe to revive them.

At the end of the first scene, Herr Drosselmeyer emerged from inside a large grandfather clock and, while Clara watched, made the Christmas tree grow to enormous size and transformed the nutcracker into a prince, all shown on stage with full props and sets. The set and lighting design, as well as the changes, were dramatic and life-sized, requiring very little work from the audiences’ imaginations. I couldn’t helping thinking that this must have been a really expensive production to put together. Not that I was complaining – it was perfectly executed and created layers and layers of magic.

The only bit of the choreography that I didn’t particularly enjoy was the dancing of the snowflakes in the second scene. It took me a while to figure out what I didn’t like about it but I think it’s because the dancing was too frenetic – there was a lot of focus on arm movements and a little mechanical, losing some of the gracefulness. I was soon distracted, however, by the children’s choir. It’s unusual, except in very large and expensive productions, to actually see the children’s choir included in the Nutcracker but it is a delightful part of the original score and definitely adds to the ballet.

Act II of the Nutcracker, with the sweets dancing dances from different countries, never fails to delight. This production included the traditional Arabian and Spanish dancers, as well as the Chinese and Russian but also included some traditional Korean dancers. All the dancers were good but some of the touches and some of the choreography raised this part of the ballet above the norm. The Chinese dancers, for example, were accompanied by the cutest, funniest little silver dragon who completely distracted the audience with it’s antics. The Russian dancers, perhaps because Korea is so much closer to Russia and the culture is therefore more familiar, seemed so incredibly happy and so authentic. The Korean dancers were the highlight for many of the audience and were fascinating to watch. The woman danced with an hour-glass-shaped drum that she carried over her shoulder and beat and used to swing herself around in the turns. More spectacular was a male dancer wearing the black hat topped with what must have been a 6-foot long white streamer, from the Korean traditional farmer’s dance, which he swirled around as he jumped and danced with acrobatic movements across the stage. It really added a unique and impressive aspect to this part of the show. The dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Waltz of the Flowers were exquisite. There was none of the awkwardness of the snowflake dance. Instead, we were whirled away in a beautiful, flowing, elegant display of classical ballet. The prince danced, too, and was perhaps one of the most impressive dancers there. His leaps were perfectly executed, his movements both athletic and elegant and he was incredibly light on his feet. I was almost a little sad, when Her Drosselmeyer reappeared and transformed the magical world back into the ordinariness of Clara’s bedroom and she woke with her beloved Nutcracker.

The only negative about the show for me was the fact that, not surprisingly, so many parents had brought their children and a few of them became restless during the third act. Still, even children chattering a little couldn’t really detract from this magical performance. The audience didn’t stand up – perhaps standing ovations are not done here – but the performers received three curtain calls and it was obvious that everyone was enchanted. Including me. I left humming ‘O come all ye faithful’, which they played as the audience was filing out, and full of the joy and magic of ballet and Christmas. In terms of the dancing, although I loved almost all of it, I was particularly impressed with the male leads. Perhaps just because there aren’t very many strong male dancers in South African ballet, these men blew me away. Clara’s father (danced, I think by Jeong Woon Sik) and the Prince (Kim Sung Hun – although both those names may be wrong) were both excellent.

I had originally tried to get a group together to go to the show but they all had a thanksgiving dinner planned. I’m so glad I went on my own anyway. It was a delightful. I joined some of my friends afterwards, though, and we ended up sampling a very different kind of Korean entertainment. Since I arrived here, I’ve been meaning to go to a Noraebang – a Korean karaoke room. Last night I went with three friends to try one out.

The others had all done this before but I was a Noraebang novice. This is a little different to the karaoke I’m used to at home. Instead of singing in front of a large (and not very attentive) audience in a crowded bar, each group of people gets a private room. In the room are comfortable couches arranged around a table and TV. On the table are a couple of books with lists of songs and a control console which you use to choose your song. The range of songs is bizarre but there are always some fun ones. Once you’re chosen your song, one or two people pick up the mics and sing their hearts out. Not that you really hear a lot of what they’re singing – volume is permanently turned up rather high and the mics have some sort of built in reverb, so everyone sounds a little like a bad K-pop star. But that’s probably part of the fun. The four of us had a great time. We sang all sorts of things, from Moulin Rouge and Bon Jovi to Mariah Carey and Neil Diamond. In honour of the season, we also included a couple of Christmas numbers. We had a particularly funny moment when Christina found something called ‘The Christmas Song’ by Nat King Cole and we all watched as she put it on, not sure what to expect and then all jumped up at the same time and started singing at the tops of our voices as the words ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire’ appeared on the screen. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. After an hour and a half we didn’t even notice passing, we finished off with the almost obligatory ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Outside, we said goodnight and I headed home to dream sweet dreams of chestnuts, princes, nutcrackers and sugar plum fairies.

2 comments »

Posted in Arts, Daegu

Tags:

Opera for Lunch

November 24th, 2009

Daegu Opera House 2009 Brunch Opera series
La Rondine (Puccini), 23 November 2009, 11am

There are many ways to deal with Monday mornings. Personally, I usually sleep through them . One of the more unorthodox ways to start the week, however, has to be a trip to the Opera.

Daegu Opera House has for the last few months although I only discovered them recently, been running what they call ‘Brunch Opera’ – small-scale operas performed three times a month at 11am on Monday mornings. The cost is only 10 000 won (roughly R60) without brunch or 15 000 won (R90) with brunch included.

Monday’s opera was La Rondine. By strange coincidence, this is an opera I’ve seen before. In fact, I watched it at the Baxter and it was a UCT/Cape Town Opera performance so there was a lecture before the show, making this the opera that I know probably more about than any other, I was particularly pleased to be able to catch it.

Despite advanced recon to find the Opera House, I hadn’t figured out exactly where to buy tickets but they clearly cater for new-comers. Signs directed me to the ‘ticket-box’. I wasn’t at all sure how to ask for a ticket in Korean, so I smiled pathetically and held out my 10 000 won note. The ticket sales person obviously knew what I meant and, after checking that I wanted just one ticket, offered me a seat using her handy screen stuck up against the hatch, and handed me my ticket.

There is something magically wonderful about having a theatre ticket in your hand. It’s a world of possibility and wonder just waiting to become tangible. One of the favourite things for my mother and me at Fest is buy tickets for the main (and will-definitely-be-sold-out) shows as soon as we arrive and pick up all the ones we’ve pre-booked, so that we can enjoy the anticipation of those wonderful tickets in our hot little hands for days before we get to the performances. This is the first time I’ve been to the theatre in months and months and I’ve missed it a lot, so this ticket felt particularly good.

Another of the magical parts of going to a show is entering an auditorium where the orchestra is tuning up and the house lights are at mid-level and everything is plush and beautiful and luxurious, particularly if the theatre is mostly empty and you can take your time to wander down the aisles and search for your particular seat-number. I was sitting in B191. It appeared on the screen to be roughly in the middle, roughly half-way back. I didn’t realize when I bought it that I’d gotten one of the best seats in the house. Daegu Opera House has a round ground-level audience area, surrounded on three sides by balconies rising four levels to the ceiling. On the ground floor the main sections of seats (A and B) are divided into a large central block with two smaller blocks, one on each side. This extends back to an aisle area, behind which there are more seats (B to C) behind a wooden rail. The last two rows of seats in the front centre block are divided into groups of three, meaning far more space and seats that are easy to reach without having to climb over anyone. I was seated in one of these groups of three seats, right next to the middle gap, directly in line with the centre of the stage. Behind me was the open space of the aisle. The two seats next to me and the one in front of me were empty, so no noisy neighbours and no tall person obscuring my view.

The orchestra finished tuning up, the house lights went down and the opera began. The show as lovely. The good, clear of obviously well-trained voices of professionals rose and fell in the great acoustics of the venue. Costumes and acting were, for the most part, spot on. The set design was particularly interesting – using a minimal props, a screen portraying various images and three large rectangular frames (like oversized door frames) to create the impression of the different settings. Lighting design was very effective – from the imperceptible changes between spots to the fairy-lights on the large frames used to focus the attention on particular parts of the stage, to generate movement despite the small cast  and to create the sensation of distance as Magda walked away at the end of the final act. In terms of performances, it was great to see all the leads acting almost as well as they sang. The one exception was one of the male leads (Ruggero) whose acting was sometimes a little wooden. His voice, however, was so angelical that allowances must be made for any deficiencies in acting. The top performance was probably Magda but I was particularly delighted with the portrayal of her maid, Lisette, which was light and energetic and drew the audience into the story whole-heartedly. Another particularly great feature of this kind of operatic performance is that it’s so often the case, as here, that the performers are clearly having fun, which can make the difference between a good performance and one which truly delights. I do not, unfortunately, have an English cast list but I am on a mission to discover the names of the performers I particularly enjoyed so that I can make sure I see them again.

The Daegu Opera Festival Orchestra was also impressive. The conductor was great and their beautiful music lifted and at times even almost out-shined some of the solos. Timing and tone were excellent and the only possible criticism I could make – and only if I were really searching for something to criticise – would be that there was the distinctive sound of a bow clunking on the floor at one point during the second act.

It was a delightful hour and a half and a great way to start the week – all for only 10 000 won. This is unfortunately the last selection in the 2009 Brunch Opera series, but La Rondine will be performed twice more, on November 30th and December 7th. English speakers planning to attend should ensure that they are familiar with the story as the Opera is sung in Italian and the subtitles are in Korean. Judging by the crowd, advanced booking is probably not necessary, and I certainly didn’t have a problem but several sites recommend it if you would like to have the brunch meal with your Opera. For more information, check out the Daegu Opera House site for contact details. Bon Appetit!

1 comment »

Posted in Arts, Daegu

Tags:

Dalseong Park – a sort of kind of zoo

November 24th, 2009

On Sunday I woke up at about half past 12 (midday). I was lying in bed reading about half an hour later when I got a text from a friend. She was bored. I sent her some ideas of things to do and found myself suddenly drawn to the possibility of a Sunday afternoon adventure, even over the temptation of spending the day in bed. A quick check of the usual internet sources revealed at least two parks in Daegu that I hadn’t yet visited. One, Mangu Park, sounds exciting and historical but the one that caught my attention on Sunday was Dalseong Park, just west of Downtown, and it caught my attention largely because it has a zoo.

I know some people dislike zoos but I’m not one of those hippie-liberal-vegetarian-bunny-hugger types who thinks all zoos are cruel. I think zoos can, and often are, be well-funded, state-of-the-art facilities that play a vital role as sanctuaries for rescued animals and breeding centres, particularly for endangered species. This was, unfortunately, not one of those zoos.

The trip to the park was about as eventful as usual. I caught the #403 bus, which I’d discovered while trying to find the Opera House on Thursday, and then switched over downtown to the #939 bus, overshot the Dalseong Park by two or three stops and ended up backtracking about 7 blocks to get to where I wanted to be. Following the signs to the park, I found myself facing a large, solid building through which, according to a large sign right above me, I was supposed to walk for 300 metres. I ignored the sign and headed around the corner to find the Park.

Dalseong is a Park in that it is an open area with neatly-finished lawns and rows of cabbages in pot-plants – don’t get me started on the cabbages. There are, however, two things that distinguish it and make it more interesting than some of the other parks in the area. The first is the Earthen Wall. Surrounding the park-area, there is a raised area that looks like a naturally-occurring hill except that it is a fairly constant height and forms an almost perfect oval with a circumference of roughly 1300m. It is, in fact, the wall of one of the oldest earthen-mound fortresses in Korea. It is assumed that the first walls were built by the villages of the area in the distant, and now largely forgotten past, and subsequent generations and rulers added to, repaired and improved them. One estimated date of construction is 261AD. On one part of this wall stands the Gwanpungnu Pavilion, which was an important site to the history of the administration of the province and a place used by the governor to look out across Daegu and see what was happening downtown during the later part of the Joseon Dynasty.

All this was fascinating to see and made the historian in my particularly happy. The other reason I’d come to the park was to see the animals. It may seem odd to people who have grown up in cities, and perhaps those who have grown up in countries without many large mammals, but the lack of animal life in Korea has been nawing at me. This is one of the reasons I wanted to go to this zoo, which the internet told me had all sorts of animals from elephants to fur seals. I hoped they would be African elephants.

As it turned out, I didn’t see the elephants at all. I must have arrived close to feeding time because all the large animals were agitated – at least I hope that is why – and by the time I reached the elephants’ enclosure, they were nowhere to be seen and the door was closed, I assume for feeding. The same happened with the lions. And the fur seal enclosure had been taken over by a gaggle of white geese. I did see plenty of other animals, though.

The zoo has an odd mixture of creatures. There are lots of birds, including peacocks (blue and white – which I didn’t know existed), pheasants, waterbirds like ducks, ostriches, what looked like some turkeys and a few birds of prey. I felt a bit sorry for the birds of prey because their cages didn’t seem very big. They were beautiful, though, particularly the owls and the vultures.

In a large enclosure with a mossy, empty moat around it, two beautiful Bengal tigers paced and roamed, clearly waiting for something. They really are beautiful, powerful animals. Strange how I often forget how much more fierce and unfriendly their faces are than those of lions. There was also a very lonely and not-particularly-happy looking brown bear, pacing around in circles, all by himself in another large enclosure. He was rather good looking, too.

Near the entrance there were llamas. One of them – a large brown llama was in a pen with a whole bunch of other deer. Another – a pale tan-coloured, slightly smaller animal – was in a separate pen on the other side of the fence. At first, I didn’t even notice the second one. After watching for a bit, however, it became clear that the reason I hadn’t noticed it was because it had been busy trying to find a way to get under the fence at the far side of the pen. Once it gave that up, it raced to find the brown one and the two of them rushed up and down the fence on opposite sides, trying to get through. Amorous llamas.

Although the bear looked a little miserable and the llamas would clearly have been happier on the same side of the fence, I think all of these animals were probably okay. Or at least, far, far better off than some of the others. In front of a glassed-in (perspex-ed-in?) cage the size of a large room, with a few branches and bits of rope, was a sign indicating that this was the chimpanzee enclosure. I couldn’t help thinking of the huge chimp enclosure at Monkey Town in Somerset West. Perhaps I am just more sensitive to big apes, having grown up in Africa, but that enclosure made me feel genuinely miserable. I didn’t actually see a chimp, so maybe it is mercifully empty. As I said, some of the other animals looked fine but things like this make me wish that someone would close the place down. The zebras were also penned into a rather small area. When I close my eyes, I can picture zebra running across the veld. It was strange and a little unsettling to see them in so small a space, although the two of them seemed perfectly active and interacted with many of the people who walked by.
Not very far away was a sight that made me even more angry and sad and definitely makes me think that this ‘zoo’ should be closed down. In a tiny, glassed-in cage, about the size of a single university res room, pacing up and down in what looked like anguish, was a beautiful big cat which I initially thought was a leopard but the information board informed me was an amazon jaguar. It was exquisite: thick, rich fur, huge feet, wide eyes. It paced backwards and forwards in this tiny space, muscles taught, eyes searching and my heart went out to it. I wanted to stand there and watch it all day or find a way to free it, or simply talk to it, get its attention. A few cages along were two timber wolves, the larger also pacing backwards and forwards. I hope that what was actually going on was that they were about to be fed, and not that this pacing is what they do all day long. Either way, the cages these beautiful animals were in were way, way too small. It’s hard to imagine a country where people don’t object to this kind of thing. It’s not even as if the motive is minimizing costs in order to increase profit – the zoo and park are free and open to the public.

The conditions in which the jaguar, wolves and possibly chimps were kept marred my experience of Dalseong park. My feeling is that someone should do something to limit the number of animals they can keep so that each is able to live in appropriate surroundings. The rest of the park was interesting and it was great to see animals, but I wish they didn’t feel the need to spoil it by doing things like that.

No comments »

Posted in Daegu

Tags:

In search of an Opera House

November 23rd, 2009

You’d think an Opera House would be the kind of thing that wouldn’t be hard to find. Particularly when the Opera House in question is, according to their own website, ‘shaped like a grand piano’. It’s not quite as bizarre as the images this concept may conjure up, but there is definitely something grand-piano-esque (without the legs) about the building,  as I was aware from the glimpse I’d caught when we drove past one time and a friend pointed it out. Last week Thursday I went looking for it and proved, quite conclusively that knowing what a building looks like, even one as distinctive as this, is no guarantee at all of finding it.

I had originally intended to go to the Opera House on Monday for a show but chickened out at the last minute, partly because I was tired but mostly because the task of finding a building I’d never been to first thing on a Monday morning was overwhelmingly daunting. This is why I set off on Thursday on a bit of ‘advanced recon’.

According to the Daegu tourist information website, I should have been able to reach the Opera House simply by taking bus #403 and getting off at the ‘Homeplus’ stop. This was particularly convenient because but #403 stops near my flat.

After 45 minutes of watching anxiously at each stop for anything vaguely resembling a ‘Homeplus’ (whatever that was) and a bus rapidly filling with people – I eventually stayed standing to get a better view of the names written on the stops – I found myself near Kyungpook National University in what I was fairly sure was the wrong part of town. I assumed I’d missed the stop in the bustle of the crowded bus, so I got off and crossed the road to get the same #403 bus going in the other direction. A quick look at the list of stops on that side didn’t turn up what I was looking for but I figured the ‘Homeplus’ stop could be called something else (as often happens), so I stuck to the plan.

While I waited, I had the most gorgeous view of a river and a park. I’m increasingly delighted by the long, narrow parks – complete with walks, exercise equipment, jungle gyms and the occasional basketball court – that run alongside most rivers and canals in Daegu. This river sparkled and danced in the weak, mid-afternoon sunshine, as children played and people walked and ran alongside it.

The bus arrived and I climbed aboard and determinedly claimed a seat with a good view of all the stops so that I couldn’t miss mine again. By the time we had wound our way back to the subway station that I normally get off at for Sam Duk, have traversed downtown a second time, it was clear that bus #403 does not in fact go anywhere near the Opera House. Disgruntled, I got out and crossed the road to see if I could find any sign of another bus that might take me there.

As luck would have it, my slow and careful deciphering of the list of bus-stops for the Rapid 2 bus (a bus none of the websites mentioned) revealed that this bus went to had a ‘Homeplus’ stop listed. Just to give a proper idea, Homeplus here spelt 험플러스 which ends up being something like hom-peul-leo-seu. I had just missed one of these Rapid 2 buses so I had to wait 15 minutes for the next one.

After crawling through downtown traffic we reached the right stop. Homeplus, it turns out, is a rather large (multi-storey) department-type store. Except not a department store. It’s actually Homeplus TESCO, so it’s an actual hypermarket.

Once off the bus, I walked to the traffic light/pedestrian crossing, from where I could see along a side-road and there, just a block away, was the Opera House. I went along the road just to make absolutely sure I was in the right place but it was, indeed, the place I’d spent the entire afternoon failing to find.

Since I was there, I popped into Homeplus to have a look, too. It looks like a great place to find reasonably-priced clothes. I didn’t find the groceries – despite large adverts for specials on things like cabbages – but I’m sure they must be there somewhere (in one of the 7 storeys). And maybe they’ll even have cheese.

Now that I know where it is, I plan to return to Homeplus and do a proper shop sometime. Now that I know where the Opera House is, I can finally get organized and make my way there for one of the many shows they advertise. And finally enjoy some of the high culture the city has to offer.

1 comment »

Posted in Daegu

Tags:

Gyeongju

November 15th, 2009
Gyeongju
One of the places about which my guide book is unusually enthusiastic – unusual because it is decidedly luke-warm about places like Daegu – is Gyeongju, a city about an hour away from Daegu which served as the capital during the Silla rule in the area, including during the first part of the existence of a unified Korea. The place is jam-packed with historically important buildings and artefacts and relishes it’s ancient past.
As luck would have it, however, this weekend’s adventure was joined by a wonderfully congenial group of people and so turned out to be a day more devoted to the joy of simple pleasures and good company than the awe of historical grandeur. I’ll definitely return at some point and satisfy my somewhat singular desire to explore the past but yesterday (Saturday) was an absolute blast and I’m so glad it worked out as it did.
We met at Daegu station at 10:45. Unlike the route between Daegu and Seoul or Busan, there is no KTX that runs from Daegu to Gyeongju. In fact, even the medium speed ‘express’ train only runs a few times a day. There is the option of taking the bus, but that is rather daunting and seemed like a mission when we’ve all just figured out this train system. This meant that it wasn’t possible for us to leave at 10am, which had been the original plan. Instead, we got onto an 11:17 train, which was – oddly – running almost 10 minutes late. It still amuses me that 10 minutes late is such a big deal anywhere in the world.
On the trip out to Gyeongju we were scattered throughout the carriage because the train was quite full. People listened to music and slept. I watched a late autumn world pass by. The seasons here are definitely changing and autumn is rapidly fading into winter. It was glorious to see the sun for the first time after a week of rain in Daegu, though.
Gyeongju Station is a little different from the others I have seen. My guidebook informed me that this little city fell out of favour with the rulers of the country after the end of Silla rule around 935 AD but was restored by the autocratic president ruling the country in the 1970s who, among other things, prevented any skyscrapers from being built and saw to it that many of the buildings were restored to retain their traditional character. As a result, the station looks and feels like a very old building, complete with the distinctive traditional roof.
Once outside, we headed off to find some coffee and take a proper look at the map we’d picked up at the tourist information booth in the station. It took us a few blocks of walking to determine that Gyeongju is apparently not dotted all over with coffee shops as is normal in places like Daegu. After a few blocks Tim, who had been struggling to read the map and walk at the same time, suggested that we take a right. The map wasn’t all that helpful.
And then we spotted a collection of stones near a wall, which looked sufficiently historical to be interesting. Sure enough, there was an information board indicating that this was the Gyeongju walled fortress. Unfortunately, this walled fortress was not on our not-very-helpful map.
Fortunately, we spotted, just a little further down the road, a bicycle-rental shop. One of the things the guide-book and all the websites had mentioned was that Gyeongju was one of the few places were it was possible to rent and ride around on bicycles and we were all quite excited about the idea. Nothing was in English but the more adventurous members of our party were not at all daunted and got right down to making plans. We all picked out bikes, including one tandem bike for the two guys in the group, one of whom somehow avoided the (for the rest of us) standard childhood passtime of learning to ride. Two of the girls also considered a tandem but decided it was not a good idea and so were the last to choose and thereby ended up with pretty girls’ bikes complete with baskets. The bikes cost us 7000 won each to rent for the day, to be returned no later than 7pm.
All saddled up, we headed off to explore. While the rest of us had been dithering over choosing and becoming familiar with (and stable on) our bikes, the guys had gotten us directions, so we headed towards the river, alongside which we would find a long, lovely bicycle track running all the way from the city centre area to Bunum lake, a few kilometres to the East.
There is something delightful in a group along a well-maintained bike track beside a river. We found ourselves pedalling furiously and coasting down hills, ringing bells and remembering when we were children. The river danced over rocks and weirs, sparkling in the sunshine and the occasional bit of wind rippled through the tall dry grass. We passed tennis courts and mini-driving ranges, and an exercise park. Along the path, we met up with and passed families walking and people riding in the other direction, some in professional-looking riding gear and others who appeared to be on their way to work or just out enjoying the Saturday afternoon. Surveyors were measuring something on the river bed.
We rode for a long time. I’m not particularly fit and I haven’t been on a bicycle for a long time, so muscles I haven’t used in a while began to protest at some points. The odd thing about riding with others is that there is a lot more incentive to just keep going. It was worth it. The ride was delightful. Just the feeling of being outside in the crisp late autumn air and the freedom of being on bicycles was precious. Lauren’s bike had a basket in the front and we spent some time wishing we could find her a baguette and some onions to complete the picture. The guys, on their tandem, were slower than the rest of us, but they managed to keep up and eventually we found ourselves leaving the delight of the bike trail and riding along the pavement beside busy road.
We stopped to wait for everyone to catch up and the delicous smell of food from across the road taunted those of us who hadn’t had breakfast but we pressed on to the lake. We stopped beside a large map of the lake (which, incidentally pointed people in the wrong direction) and left our bikes chained to a bench. The lake is beautiful. The guidebook mentioned the area as being the haunt of wealthy holiday-makers. The tiny shop we stopped at near the lake was next to a kiddies’ mini-dirt-bike track. We went on to the edge of the water and walked around toward the hotel area.
The afternoon was nippy but beautiful. The sun alternately sparkled on the water and dipped behind clouds. The slopes around the water lay heavy with autumn leaves. We walked along paths between wintery trees and sparkling ripples of water. Tim jumped down onto the pebble-strewn edge of the water to skip stones. Several others tried unsuccessfully but he managed to get it right.
After a while we reached a boat-restaurant. The rest of the group had recently eaten at Daegu’s airplane-restaurant, so it seemed appropriate to continue the vehicular-eating-place theme. We went inside, raising immediate attention by being loud and foreign, but not really minding because we were all a little cold and rather tired by this point.
Eating at Korean restaurants is a bit of a hit-and-miss exercise, partly because menus don’t always bare all that much relation to what is actually on offer and partly because the same dish may taste completely different from one place to the next. The joys of eating at these places, however, are also significant. Some of these are simple, such as the fact that water is brought to the table as soon as you sit down, followed by a variety of side-dishes as soon as the order is placed. Another, fairly significant at least in its difference from Western restaurants, is that meals are often shared instead of each person ordering and eating individually. We were a group of eight, conveniently settled in two clusters of four around the gas-burners set in the tables that are the norm in so many Korean restaurants, so we ordered two group dishes. The first to arrive, at burner I was sitting at, was a braised beef-rib stew which was absolutely fantastic. The meat was tender, the thin gravy was full of flavour and it all went down beautifully with the side dishes and a bit of the standard rice-on-the-side. The other foursome was presented, not much later, with their spicy duck and vegetables, which was also great – although in the particular situation it was frustrating to have to wait for the duck to cook.
A good, slow-food lunch later, we wandered back out of the restaurant and, after a brief stop at the cafe next door to buy something sweet to finish of the meal, headed back to our bikes. By this stage several of us were starting to feel a little sore and the cold hand of winter was definitely starting to sneak under jackets and dance among the leaves.
The first part of the ride back was lovely – consisting mostly of coasting down hills – but it got harder as we got closer to the city. The guys on the tandem were also struggling more this time. We stopped to wait for them at the exercise park where, of course, we tried out all the machines, not, of course, that we needed much more exercise after our long ride. The machines were fun, though.
The ride became quite a bit less pleasant after this stop. It was flat-to-uphill and a sharp, cold wind blew towards us all the way.  The sun was also going down, bringing with it the winter cold. There was some confusion about where we were going, but eventually we all found each other and headed back to the rental shop to return the bikes.
At this point, we could have headed home but a couple of us were really keen to see a few more of the sights for which the area is renowned, particularly Anapji Pond, which is supposed to be (and is) very beautiful at night. This park was created by the Silla rulers as a pleasure garden where they entertained guest such as foreign dignitaries. Although the area fell out of use in for a few hundred years, it has been restored and is still very beautiful. The next time I’m in town, I will definitely visit it during the day as well. This time, unfortunately, it was rather cold.
We walked around the pond (artificial lake) and then marched on – thanks to the determination of one of our group, for which I at least am thankful – to see some other sights. We stopped to look at an ice-house built during the Josean dynasty. We also stopped to look at the Cheomseongdae astronomical observatory tower dating from the seventh century.
As fascinating and beautiful as all of these were, it was by now very cold, so we headed back to the station and caught the 19:15 train back to Daegu. There were plans afoot on the trip for a big night out downtown. When we got back we jumped into two taxis and headed to the usual Galbi joints near the Sam Deok Sobangseo taxi stop. Unfortunately it was apparently a very busy night downtown and nowhere had space for a party of eight, not even the bus-restaurant we tried in the hopes of continuing the vehicular-eating-house theme. We eventually found a Mexican place that was warm and peaceful and fed us lovely food. Three of us split Nachos, Chicken Quesidilla and Beef Tacos between us and may possibly have had the best meal out of everyone.
By the end of the meal, all thoughts of a big night had faded in dreams of home and warmth so we found some taxis and headed off into the night. The weather has really turned cold now and while I struggle to understand a completely unknown temperature phenomenon, I’m encouraged by the fact that the Canadians are feeling the cold too – so clearly it’s not just all in my head. I have a feeling that the weather may restrict the number of adventurous days like this I experience in the next little while, but I’m so glad this one happened and that the memory of racing along bicycle trails beside rivers with friends will be one of those I take with me from my time here in Korea.

One of the places about which my guide book is unusually enthusiastic – unusual because it is decidedly luke-warm about places like Daegu – is Gyeongju, a city about an hour away from Daegu which served as the capital during the Silla Dynasty, including during the first years of a unified Korea. The place is jam-packed with historically important buildings and artefacts and relishes it’s ancient past.

As luck would have it, however, this weekend’s adventure was joined by a wonderfully congenial group of people and so turned into a day more devoted to simple pleasures and good company than the awe of historical grandeur. I’ll definitely return at some point and satisfy my somewhat singular desire to explore the past but yesterday (Saturday) was an absolute blast and I’m so glad it worked out as it did.

We met at Dongdaegu station at 10:45. Unlike the route between Daegu and Seoul or Busan, there is no KTX that runs from Daegu to Gyeongju. In fact, even the medium speed ‘express’ train only runs a few times a day. There is the option of taking the bus, but that seemed like a mission when we’ve all just figured out this train system. This meant that it wasn’t possible for us to leave at 10am, which had been the original plan. Instead, we got onto an 11:17 train, which was – oddly – running almost 10 minutes late. It still amuses me that 10 minutes late is such a big deal anywhere in the world.

On the trip out to Gyeongju we were scattered throughout the carriage because the train was quite full. People listened to music and slept. I watched a late autumn world pass by. The seasons here are definitely changing as autumn rapidly fades into winter. It was glorious to see the sun for the first time after a week of Daegu rain.

Gyeongju Station is a little different from the others I have seen. My guidebook informed me that this little city fell out of favour with the rulers of the country after the end of Silla rule, around 935 AD, but was restored by the autocratic president in the 1970s who, among other things, prevented any skyscrapers from being built and saw to it that many of the buildings retained their traditional character. As a result, the station looks and feels like a very old building, complete with the distinctive traditional roof.

Once outside, we headed off to find some coffee and take a proper look at the map we’d picked up at the tourist information booth. It a few blocks to determine that Gyeongju is apparently not dotted all over with coffee shops as in places like Daegu. After a few blocks Tim, who had been struggling to read the map and walk at the same time, suggested that we take a right.

And then we spotted a collection of stones near a wall, which looked sufficiently historical to be interesting. Sure enough, there was an information board indicating that this was the Gyeongju’s walled fortress. Unfortunately, this walled fortress was not on our not-very-helpful map.

Fortunately, we spotted, just a little further down the road, a bicycle-rental shop. One of the things the guide-book and all the websites mentioned was that in Gyeongju, unlike most Korean cities, it is possible to rent and ride around on bicycles. We were all quite excited about the idea. Nothing was in English but the more adventurous members of our party were not at all daunted and got right down to making plans. We all picked out bikes, including one tandem for the two guys in the group, one of whom somehow avoided the (for the rest of us) standard childhood passtime of learning to ride. Two of the girls also considered a tandem but decided it was not a good idea and so were the last to choose and ended up with pretty girls’ bikes complete with baskets. The bikes cost us 7000 won each to rent for the day, to be returned no later than 7pm.

All saddled up, we headed off to explore. While the rest of us had been dithering over choosing and becoming familiar with (and stable on) our bikes, the guys had gotten us directions, so we headed towards the river, alongside which we would find a long, lovely bicycle track running all the way from the city centre area to Bunum lake, a few kilometres away.

There is something delightful about riding in a group along a well-maintained bike trail beside a river. We found ourselves pedalling furiously and coasting down hills, ringing bells and remembering childhood moments. The river danced over rocks and weirs, sparkling in the sunshine and occasional breaths of wind rippled through the tall, dry grass. We passed tennis courts, a mini-driving range and an exercise park. Along the path, we met up passed families walking and people riding in the other direction. Surveyors were measuring something on the river bed.

We rode for a long time. I’m not particularly fit and I haven’t been on a bicycle for a long time, so muscles I haven’t used in a while began to protest. Riding with others is a great incentive to keep going. It was worth it. The ride was delightful. Just the feeling of being outside in the crisp late autumn air and the freedom of being on bicycles was precious. Lauren’s bike had a basket in the front and we spent some time wishing we could find her a baguette and some onions and cheese to complete the picture. The guys, on their tandem, were slower than the rest of us, but they managed to keep up and eventually we found ourselves leaving the bike trail and riding along the pavement beside busy road.

We stopped to wait for everyone to catch up and the delicous smell of food from across the road taunted those of us who hadn’t had breakfast but we pressed on to the lake. We stopped beside a large map of the lake (which, incidentally pointed people in the wrong direction) and left our bikes chained to a bench. The lake is beautiful. The guidebook mentioned the area as being the haunt of wealthy holiday-makers. The tiny shop we stopped at near the lake was next to a kiddies’ mini-dirt-bike track. We went on to the edge of the water and walked around toward the hotel area.

The afternoon was nippy but beautiful. The sun alternately sparkled on the water and dipped behind clouds. The slopes around the water lay heavy with autumn leaves. We walked along paths between wintery trees and sparkling ripples. Tim jumped down onto the pebble-strewn edge of the water to skip stones.

After a while we reached a boat-restaurant. The rest of the group had recently eaten at Daegu’s airplane-restaurant recently, so it seemed appropriate to continue the vehicular-eating-venue theme. We went inside, raising immediate attention by being loud and foreign, but not really minding because we were all a little cold and rather tired by this point.

Eating at Korean restaurants is a bit of a hit-and-miss exercise, partly because menus don’t always bare all that much relation to what is actually on offer and partly because the same dish may taste completely different from one place to the next. The joys of eating at these places, though, are also significant. Some are simple, such as the fact that water is brought to the table as soon as you sit down, followed by a variety of side-dishes as soon as the order is placed. Another, fairly significant at least in its difference from Western restaurants, is that meals are often shared. We were a group of eight, conveniently settled in two clusters of four around the gas-burners set in the tables – the norm in so many Korean restaurants. We ordered two group dishes. The first to arrive, at the burner I was seated at, was a braised beef-rib stew which was absolutely fantastic. The meat was tender, the thin gravy full of flavour and it all went down beautifully with the side dishes and a bit of the standard rice-on-the-side. The other foursome was presented, not much later, with their spicy duck and vegetables, which was also great – although in this particular situation it was frustrating to have to wait for the duck to cook.

A good, slow-food lunch later, we wandered back out of the restaurant and, after a brief stop at the cafe next door to buy sweets to finish of the meal, headed back to our bikes. By this stage several of us were starting to feel a little sore and the cold hand of winter was definitely sneaking under jackets and dancing in the leaves.

The first part of the ride back was lovely – consisting mostly of coasting down hills – but it got harder as we got closer to the city. The guys on the tandem were struggling more this time. We stopped to wait for them at the exercise park where, of course, we tried out all the machines – not that we needed much more exercise after our long ride but the machines were fun, though.

The ride became quite a bit less pleasant after this. It was flat-to-uphill and a sharp, cold wind blew towards us all the way.  The sun was also going down, bringing with it the winter cold. There was some confusion about where we were going, but eventually we all found each other and headed back to the rental shop to return the bikes.

At this point, we could have headed home but a couple of us were really keen to see a few more of the sights, particularly Anapji Pond, which is supposed to be (and is) very beautiful at night. This park was created by the Silla rulers as a pleasure garden where they entertertained foreign dignitaries. Although the area fell out of use in for a few hundred years, it has been restored and is still very beautiful. The next time I’m in town, I will definitely visit it during the day as well. This time, unfortunately, it was rather cold.

We walked around the pond (artificial lake) and then marched on – thanks to the determination of one of our group (for which I at least am thankful) – to see some other sights. We stopped to look at an ice-house built during the Josean dynasty. We also stopped to look at the Cheomseongdae astronomical observation tower dating from the seventh century.

As fascinating and beautiful as all of this was, it was now very cold, so we headed back to the station and caught the 19:15 train back to Daegu. There were plans afoot on the trip for a big night out downtown. We jumped into two taxis and headed to the usual Galbi joints near the Sam-Deok Sobangseo taxi stop. Unfortunately it was apparently a very busy night downtown and nowhere had space for a party of eight, not even the bus-restaurant we tried in the hopes of continuing the vehicular-eating-house theme. We eventually found a Mexican place that was warm and peaceful and fed us lovely food. Three of us split Nachos, Chicken Quesadilla and Beef Tacos between us and may possibly have had the best meal out of everyone.

By the end of the meal, all thoughts of a big night had faded in dreams of home and warmth, so we found taxis and headed off into the night. The weather has really turned cold now and while I struggle to understand a completely unknown temperature phenomenon, I’m encouraged by the fact that the Canadians are feeling the cold too (so clearly it’s not all just in my head). I have a feeling that the weather may restrict the number of adventurous experiences in the next little while, but I’m so glad this one happened and that the memory of racing along bicycle trails beside rivers with friends will be one of those I take with me from my time here in Korea.

1 comment »

Posted in Adventures, Daegu, Food, travelling in Korea

Tags: