Posts Tagged ‘walking’

An energetic Saturday

April 5th, 2010

A plan to go picnicking under the cherry trees on Saturday had to be put off due to a dental emergency but the day still dawned sunny and relatively warm (or at least not freezing) and I wanted to take full advantage.

After a gentle start to the day, I headed off to Mangu Park. Mangu is one of the parks I haven’t seen yet. I’ve tried to find it before and been unsuccessful, as it turns out because I got off the bus too soon. This time, I had checked the bus route map properly and had a better idea of how long I’d need to wait. I took the 814 bus. It was around midday on a Saturday, so there were lots of people on the bus. After a couple of stops, I found a seat and watched the world from the window.

After a while, we reached the park. There are different types of parks in Daegu. Some of them, like National Debt Repayment Movement Park, are small parks set up for people to sit in pleasant surroundings (and listen to piped elevator music). Some are bigger parks with more serious walks and sporting activities like Duryu Park. Mangu Park is not a huge park. In fact, it’s a bit of an odd shape, stretching across a main road. Some of the space that it does have is taken up with trees and lawns sloping down hills and benches where people were peacefully sitting and chatting or reading. The rest is taken up by monuments of various sorts.

The most fascinating is the Daegu South Gate. This is, quite literally, the old South Gate of the city of Daegu or Yeongnamjeilgwan. Daegu was first fortified in 1590 (Joseon Dynasty). As usual in Korea’s history, the Japanese invaded within a few years (1592) and destroyed it all. The walls and gates were eventually rebuilt with stone in 1736 and stayed in place until 1906. In 1980, this gate was rebuilt and moved to Mangu Park, where it looks out across the Geumho River. The information board suggests that this structure is based on the original gate but is larger. I’m not sure how exaggerated the current structure is but it is certainly imposing. The two story wooden structure with typical Joseon roof, colours and designs, sits atop a stone (brick?) fortification. There is a tunnel under the middle of the ‘gate’. I walked into this tunnel and did a double-take when I looked up. On the ceiling, there was a fascinating, and huge, mural of two long, thin dragons twisting between clouds and other designs. Western dragons are a lot more solid than Eastern ones. These ones looked like snakes with dragons heads and spindly arms and legs. At the end of the little tunnel – it wasn’t even really a tunnel, just an opening under the gate – were two huge wooden doors and then a view down a hill to a river valley. I love the huge wooden doors. I think they may be my favourite part of traditional Korean architecture.

Beyond the gate, I wandered along paved paths. Along the edge of a path was a fence covered in golden-yellow forsythia flowers. An Asian spring seems like it should be all about cherry blossoms and they are around but so far the forsythias have been far more prominent, painting the spring with swathes of yellow flowers.

Across the bridge above the multiple lanes of fast, flowing traffic, there were more flowers. A few cherry trees proudly showed their spring glory. There was another plant, the name of which I haven’t quite figured out but whose beautiful, creamy-white flowers are some of my spring favourites. In the flower-beds, the city has recently planted flowering pansies in all sorts of beautiful colours – from yellow and deep red to bright purple and velvety dark blue. I considered walking down along the river, but decided to stay on the top of the hill and take a look at the monuments.

The first was a horse and rider statue dedicated (I think) to General Kwak Jaewoo who was apparently the first militia leader to successfully resist the Japanese during the 1592 invasion (although, I’m not sure how successfully given that they seem to have invaded anyway, but what do I know?). The horse and rider reminded me a little of the statues at Rhodes Memorial in Cape Town. There was also a monument-thingy on the back of a particularly scary-looking turtle. Often these turtles that hold up monuments are fascinating and quite pretty. This one wasn’t.

The main monument of the park on this side of the road, and the one that fascinated me the most, is an alter (read: a high tower rising from a hexogon-shaped structure with picture panels) holding memorial tablets for volunteer soldiers who died fighting the Japanese between 1592 and 1598. The monument is fairly modern and fancy. Part of me wonders if this is something that organically exists or if it is part of the ongoing attempt to build the pride of Korean children in their nation  (which, for the record, is spectacularly successful to the point of being a little scary). It was also bare and stark and the panels were beautiful. Whether it is a memorial that is visited by families and that matters to people or is simply a political project of nation-building, a monument remembering those who passed away in defence of their country hundreds of years ago is a little awe-inspiring.

I could have wandered the park for longer, but I had seen most of it and gotten some nice pics – and been reminded how much of a difference natural sunlight makes to pictures – so I found the bus-stop and headed home.

I didn’t stay home for long. A friend and I had made a tentative plan to go for a mini-hike just across the main road from the area where we live. I’d never tried walking on that side and for one reason or another, nor had she. From the road, it looked like it would be a short, simple walk but with just enough steep hills to make it a bit of a climb. It turned out that we had significantly underestimated how many paths there were and how far they twisted into the hills. It will probably be even lovelier when the trees are in full, summer leaf, but I liked it as it was. Because there were fewer leaves, it was possible to look out across the valleys. It felt free and out of the city, even though the city still sprawled below us. We walked along paths and around corners and took turns and twists and tried out some of the exercise equipment randomly scattered around the forest. Eventually, we found ourselves over the hill near the back of the Children’s centre, where we stopped and spent a little time going up and down the mini-obstacle course before climbing back up the hills, to the bizarre accompaniment of a helicopter flying over and playing the sound of a whistled tune. I realise this sounds odd. It was odd.

We walked for almost an hour and a half and did some climbing and got some exercise. I really enjoyed it. I’ve never been the hiking type. In fact, I’ve never really been an outdoorsy person, but it appears the lack of outdoors in Korea is rapidly driving me in that direction. That’s okay. So far it has been fun.

For now, I’m heading off to work, somewhat bitter that I’m working on Easter Monday when everyone in South Africa is mid-long weekend, but I’m simultaneously a little bit excited about the prospect of a Cherry Blossom festival next weekend, so there are definitely silver linings.

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Walking in the rain

March 7th, 2010

Yesterday I went for a walk at Suseong Lake. Now that I’ve moved, the lake is very close by. I stepped out of my building and slipped the half-block up to the main road that runs past the lake. I walked along the block as the cars rushed past, past the Italian restaurant and a town-house complex with enough security to be in a Joburg suburb, towards the huge intersection. This intersection is where 5 roads meet, most of which are at least 4 lanes wide, two double carriage-ways. Just crossing the road is an exercise in patience and coordination involving three different traffic-phases to cross three different major roads. It’s highly advisable to wait for the pedestrian light each time. In fact, it’s the only way to survive – the traffic is fast and the drivers have no sympathy for careless pedestrians.

It was a chilly, overcast day and I was wrapped up in a water-proof jacket over my sweatpants, top and takkies. I walked past the artificial waterfall, not currently functioning because of the winter, and towards the lake. A light drizzle was settling in as I reached the water. I spent some time looking at the view. The water was grey-green, the buildings in the distance were misty-pale-grey, the bare tree trunks and branches were grey-brown.

I set off at a brisk pace. Old songs that I’ve sung many times before were playing in my mind, so I sang quietly as I walked along. Near the outdoor exercise equipment park-let, I stopped to watch the ducks swimming by.  There were no duck-boats on the lake.

Further on, I stepped through a muddy patch and made my way around a party of people who had just left the restaurant on the water. At the gazebo, the old men were playing boardgames, as usual, with plastic linings protecting them from the dripping rain.

Along the far side of the lake, the paved path disappears. I’ve never noticed that before. I walked along the muddy ground past the amusement park. Through windows, I could see employees sitting at deserted ticket offices next to wet and silent rides. The pathways sat slick and damp. Everything was wet and still. There is something eerie about a silent, empty amusement park. The low clouds turned the afternoon dusk-grey.

I walked back towards the intersection. The wind blew the falling rain into my face. The noisy geese that have recently taken up residence on the lake swam along on the other side of the lake, keeping pace with me as I walked. Their cries sounded like creaking doors or the screek of metal-on-metal. I could hear the quiet splashes of cars driving along the wet roads on the other side. I walked along and let the rain fall onto my face. Walking in the rain always makes me feel alive.

By the end of the walk, I was also starting to feel cold. I popped into a Family Mart to pick up some ice-cream – because there is nothing better on a cold day than Belgian Chocolate ice-cream – and a couple of other bits and pieces before heading home. The day remained cold and drizzly. Most of the days are like that at the moment. Bare trees against rolling grey clouds dominate the scenery. Walking in the rain makes it better. Walking near the water, in the wind, on a cold, miserable day feels better after hours and days inside heated buildings. Sunshine would be better, but fresh air and rain and wind on skin feels a little bit like freedom.

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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.

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Rose-tinted glasses

October 27th, 2009

A post with this title could so easily be a meandering consideration of how everything South African seems brighter and better and more magical through the nostalgia of being stuck, and yes I often feel stuck, half-a-world away. In fact, it isn’t. It’s a post about my newest acquisition – a pair of sunglasses. I brought a pair of sunglasses with me when I first arrived and they were necessary in the first bright, sunshiny month or so. Unfortunately, R20 sunglasses tend not to last forever and this pair eventually disintegrated. I’ve been meaning to replace them for ages but I didn’t want to spend a fortune, which I assumed would be inevitable if I walked into any of the many, many spectacle-shops that dot the streets here. This, by the way, is a new experience for me. Back home there always a few optometrist’s shops around (except in small towns like the one I’ve been living in) but they aren’t particularly numerous or flashy. Here, however, an awfully high proportion of the population seems to wear glasses, so I suppose it makes sense that there would be lots of shops specialising in glasses. Perhaps as a result of the fact that they’re all very aware of eye-care and pay a lot of attention to their eye-wear, you also don’t see much of the all-too-familiar South African phenomenon of people selling sunglasses on the side of the street or at traffic lights. That and perhaps the fact that traffic-light sunglasses-vendors would not last a week in the midst of a bunch of Daegu drivers who all seem to have bought their licences at the same place as Joburg taxi drivers.

Given all of this, I was quite pleased, when I was downtown recently, to find a stall selling sunglasses. They weren’t all that cheap – definitely more than R20 – but they were less than designer prices and the glare of the slanting Autumn sun is fairly annoying at the moment, so I picked up a pair. I chose fairly quickly because I the process of trying to select something while the sales-person attempts to assist me in a language that I am a little embarrassed or at least frustrated not to speak, given that it’s the only official (and widespread) language of the country, doesn’t thrill me. I then paid and slipped them into my bag and didn’t think of them again until a few days later when I put them on and discovered that I’d bought myself a pair of rose-tinted glasses.
I’m sure there is a solid scientific explanation for how these glasses work their magic, one which I could probably fathom out simply by dredging up all things I learnt about light and colours and angles all those years ago in science class. It seems more useful simply to describe it. When I am wearing these glasses and I look at the world, all yellows, reds, oranges and pinks are highlighted, the blue sky seems deeper, all things white or cream have a rosy glow and greens are somehow dulled. In case the significance has not yet struck you, this is the most magical amplification of the already (and increasingly) spectacularly beautiful autumn colours. After just a few days of wearing them (and resisting the urge to bounce up and down a lot because of  ’the pretty’), I can honestly say that the best way to enjoy a Daegu autumn is through rose-tinted glasses.
That is how I ended up on Sunday taking my rose-tinted glasses for a walk. I also came across a website (which I have been unable to find again) that talked about estimates from the Korean meteorological agency of when the ‘fall’ colours would be at their peak in various parts of Korea. Apparently they estimate the start of the season for viewing the fall colours as being the point where 20% of the foliage in the area has turned and the peak at 80%. I’ve been surprised at just how quickly the colours are changing just at the moment – each day there seems to be a dramatic shift. This makes sense, however, when you read the information because it appears that the real ’season’ of fall colours is only about 10 days long. For Daegu in particular, the ’season’ started this past weekend and peaks on Thursday, 29 October. It seemed a good time, therefore, to go back to one of the prettiest parks here and look at the pretty colours.
The last time I visited Duryu Park was a work-day morning, so I didn’t have that much time to explore. Because of the limited time (and limited information online), I also took the subway. While I was there, I noticed a bus that starts its route in my area, so this time I hopped on the number 3 bus to get there. I got off at the ‘Duryu Park Junction’ (bus stops have English names written on them even if the announcements on the bus are all in Korean). As I walked along to the pedestrian crossing, I suddenly heard a huge rushing sound as though a plane was flying right above my head. I had the urge to throw myself to the ground. Resisting that urge, I looked up and watched as a group of people screamed past on the roller-coaster almost directly above me. Woobang Towerland is across the road from Duryu Park, just next to where I was walking, so the noise was from the rides. The music and noise and sight of the amusement park drifted through the whole afternoon, actually and I am now contemplating a rare and unexpected urge to pay a visit to the amusement park too.
Duryu Park itself is rather large. The last time I was there, I really just wandered past some monuments and saw a fountain. This time I was properly attired (complete with boots) to explore a bit more of the area. I didn’t actually cover any of the ground I did last time – even entering and leaving by a completely different entry road. I did see the outdoor-stadium area again, but this time from the other side. It was also looking a little different this time. The last time I was there, the stadium was just empty dust. This time there was a baseball game (or practice?) going on and a few guys kicking around a soccer ball as well as a few people walking and jogging around. The stadium is surrounded by tall, leafy trees that are starting to turn.
The rest of the park was also full of people. Some of them were riding bikes, some wandering along in family groups and many of them striding along in walking gear. The outdoor shops here, like K2, North Face and Mont Bell clearly do very well here. The majority of middle-aged and older men and women who walk in parks like this are fully decked out in walking pants and walking hats and walking shoes and walking jackets. Many of them also wear masks. As more and more H1N1 cases are reported in the city and as the ordinary flu season gets going, an increasing number of people are wearing masks everywhere. I’m not sure how much of a difference it makes but people seem to feel that it helps them. There is also a belief here that regular exercise (apparently preferably in the form of hearty walks) will prevent illness. As a result, people walk a lot and there are many, many paths in the hills and woods, all fairly busy on a Sunday afternoon. On this particular day, I decided to join them, so I walked some of the paths through the wooded hills. It was nice to be out of the city for a while and among the trees. The path lead across little bamboo platforms over the dry stream beds once or twice. Sometimes it came out at a higher point and I could look across the valley. Once I found myself walking just above a temple complex as the bells started ringing. I had no particular direction, so I just kept following paths, turning and twisting up and down the hills.
All of a sudden, the path opened up back onto the road and I joined the crowds wandering back towards the stadium. The sun was starting to sink in the West by this point and I spent a little while just sitting watching the soccer guys kick around the ball and groups of people wander and someone doing sit-ups next to the road. As the sun set, I walked back to the bus stop in the mild autumn evening, the sky was lit up with pinks and purples, as if the whole world was as rose-tinted as my glasses.

A post with this title could so easily be a meandering consideration of how everything South African seems brighter and better and more magical through the nostalgia of being stuck, and yes I often feel stuck, half-a-world away. In fact, it isn’t. It’s a post about my newest acquisition – a pair of sunglasses. I brought a pair of sunglasses with me when I first arrived and they were necessary in the first bright, sunshiny month or so. Unfortunately, R20 sunglasses tend not to last forever and this pair eventually disintegrated. I’ve been meaning to replace them but I didn’t want to spend a fortune, which I assumed would be inevitable if I walked into any of the many, many spectacle-shops that dot the streets here. This, by the way, is a new experience for me. Back home there always a few optometrist’s shops around (except in small towns like the one I’ve been living in) but they aren’t particularly numerous or flashy. Here an awfully high proportion of the population seems to wear glasses, so I suppose it makes sense that there would be lots of shops specialising in glasses. Perhaps as a result of the fact that they’re all very aware of eye-care and pay a lot of attention to their eye-wear, you also don’t see much of the all-too-familiar South African phenomenon of people selling sunglasses on the side of the street or at traffic lights. That and perhaps the fact that traffic-light sunglasses-vendors would not last a week with Daegu drivers who all seem to have bought their licences at the same place as Joburg taxi drivers.

Given all of this, I was quite pleased, when I was downtown recently, to find a stall selling sunglasses. They weren’t all that cheap – definitely more than R20 – but they were less than designer prices and the glare of the slanting Autumn sun is fairly annoying at the moment, so I picked up a pair. I chose fairly quickly because trying to select something while the sales-person attempts to assist in a language that I am a little embarrassed or at least frustrated not to speak doesn’t thrill me. I paid and slipped them into my bag and didn’t think of them again until a few days later when I put them on and discovered that I’d bought myself a pair of rose-tinted glasses.

I’m sure there is a solid scientific explanation for how these glasses work their magic, one which I could probably fathom simply by dredging up all things I learnt about light and colours and angles all those years ago in science class. It seems more useful simply to describe it. When I am wearing them and I look at the world, all yellows, reds and oranges are highlighted, the blue sky seems deeper, all things white or cream have a rosy glow and greens are somehow dulled. In case the significance has not yet struck you, this is the most magical amplification of the already (and increasingly) spectacularly beautiful autumn colours. After just a few days of wearing them (and resisting the urge to bounce up and down a lot because of  ’the pretty’), I can honestly say that the best way to enjoy a Daegu autumn is through rose-tinted glasses.

That is how I ended up on Sunday taking my rose-tinted glasses for a walk. I came across a website (which I have been unable to find again) that talked about estimates from the Korean meteorological agency of when the ‘fall’ colours would be at their peak in various parts of Korea. Apparently they estimate the start of the season for viewing the fall colours as being the point where 20% of the foliage in the area has turned and the peak at 80%. I’ve been surprised at just how quickly the colours are changing just at the moment – each day there seems to be a dramatic shift. This makes sense though because it appears that the real ’season’ of fall colours is only about 10 days long. For Daegu in particular, the ’season’ started this past week and peaks on Thursday, 29 October. It seemed a good time, therefore, to go back to one of the prettiest parks here and look at all the colours.

The last time I visited Duryu Park was a work-day morning, so I didn’t have that much time to explore. Because of the limited time (and limited information online), I also took the subway. While I was there, I noticed a bus that starts its route in my area, so this time I hopped on the number 3 bus to get there. I got off at the ‘Duryu Park Junction’ (bus stops have English names written on them even if the announcements are all in Korean). As I walked along to the pedestrian crossing, I suddenly heard a huge rushing sound as though a plane was flying right above my head. I had the urge to throw myself to the ground. Resisting that urge, I looked up and watched as a group of people screamed past on the roller-coaster almost directly above me. Woobang Towerland is across the road from Duryu Park, just next to where I was walking. The music and noise and sight of the amusement park drifted through the whole afternoon and I am now contemplating a rare and unexpected urge to pay a visit to Woobang Towerland too.

Duryu Park itself is a rather large, mostly wooded area. The last time I was there, I really just wandered past some monuments and saw a fountain. This time I was properly attired (complete with boots) to explore a bit more. I didn’t actually cover any of the ground I did last time – even entering and leaving by a completely different entry road. I did see the outdoor-stadium area again, but this time from the other side. It was also looking a little different this time, too. The last time I was there, the stadium was just empty dust. This time there was a baseball game (or practice?) going on and a few guys kicking around a soccer ball as well as people walking and jogging. The stadium is surrounded by tall, leafy trees that are starting to turn.

The rest of the park was also full of people. Some of them were riding bikes, some wandering along in family groups and many striding along in walking gear. The outdoor shops here, like K2, North Face and Mont Bell clearly do very well here. The majority of middle-aged and older men and women who walk in the parks are fully decked out in walking pants, walking hats, walking shoes and walking jackets. Many of them also wear masks. As more and more H1N1 cases are reported in the city and as the ordinary flu season gets going, an increasing number of people are wearing masks everywhere. I’m not sure how much of a difference it makes but people seem to feel that it helps them. There is also a belief here that regular exercise (apparently preferably in the form of hearty walks) will prevent illness. By which I mean prevent illness by itself without doing anything else, like some sort of magic charm. Which isn’t entirely logical but great for the ‘outdoor gear’ industry.

As a result, people walk a lot and there are many, many paths in the hills and woods, all fairly busy on a Sunday afternoon. On this particular day, I decided to join them, so I walked some of the paths through the wooded hills. It was nice to be out of the city for a while and among the trees. The paths lead up and down and across little bamboo platforms over the dry stream beds once or twice. Sometimes it came out at a higher point and I could look across the valley. Once I found myself walking just above a temple complex as the bells started ringing. I had no particular direction, so I just kept following paths, turning and twisting up and down the hills.

All of a sudden, the path opened up back onto the road and I joined the crowds wandering back towards the stadium. The sun was starting to sink in the West by this point and I spent a little while just sitting watching the soccer guys kick around the ball and groups of people wander and someone doing sit-ups next to the road. As the sun set and I walked back to the bus stop in the mild autumn evening, the sky was lit up with pinks and purples, as if the whole world was as rose-tinted as my rose-tinted sunglasses.

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I go walking…

July 9th, 2009

One of the things about city living which differs from small towns is that in the city one generally has two bases of operation, home and work. I was technically supposed to be living within walking distance of the school, but I’ve ended up in the suburbs, a bus-ride away from the school.

This does have the advantage that I get to know two parts of the city whether or not I want to. I spent some time over the weekend walking around the area where I live – although there is far too much of it get to know in just one walk. Today was a light day at work, so I decided to try to get to know the area around the office a little. I work in a business area, on the 5th floor of a building that has a little shop/market (complete with vegetables and fresh fish spilling onto the pavement) on the ground floor. All the other floors seem to be filled with English language academies – private, after-school english teaching schools.

When I first took the bus to work, I was terrified that I would miss the stop and end up completely lost in a strange city. I’d only seen the place once and the building is not all that different from the many other neon-lit buildings around it, so the fear wasn’t completely unreasonable. Luckily there is one VERY distinctive building – The Fashion Exchange.

Daegu is apparently famous for it’s fashion industry and is described in the guide book as ‘the self-proclaimed capital of Korean fashion’.The Fashion Exchange is an experience all on it’s own. Many, many of the buildings in this city are lit up with bright neon signs in garish colours. This building is a multi-story, rectangular building that is covered on all sides with round things that look a little like the inside of tyres, under glass. Or thick plastic of some sort. These rings are actually lights and the show starts when it gets dark and each of the rings lights up. They start out white, which is pretty spectacular to begin with. And then the whole lot of them start to change colour. And sometimes some of them switch between colours, so that the building flashes between different colours in a wild lights show. Combined with the Korean pop and the icy blasts of air-conditioned air flowing from the doors, the place is something like a whole-building disco, on the outside at least.

The bus stop is directly outside the Fashion Exchange, so there will be plenty of time to enjoy the strangeness of it while I’m waiting for buses in the evening. Between the bus stop and the school (about a block) is a fascinating variety of shops. These include ‘Colon Sports’ and an ‘Athlete’s Foot’, as well as a ‘North Face’ I’m sure I’ll be patronising once winter gets a little cooler. This strip, on either side of the road, and a little further on the other side of the school, also includes an interesting range of Golf shops – like Elle Golf. They seem to be ladies golfing clothes shops. A new one on me.

On the pavements around these shops are sellers of vegetables. They sit, little old ladies and men, in clusters, sorting their herbs and vegetables, and rearranging things and tidying up, and chatting and laughing in the evening light. There is a fish-monger on the pavement, too. In fact, between the fish monger on one side and the vegetables on the other, I glimpsed what I think might be a larger, covered market, beckoning with new and exciting smells and tastes. I will have to explore further some time soon.

Tonight is the first night I’ve taken the bus home. On most nights, I finish after 11pm, by which time the buses have apparently stopped running, so someone from the school gives me a lift home. But today I finished before 9pm. I wandered up the road to the bus-stop and waited with everyone else for the bus. I’m still starting to get used to the idea that the streets and buses are as busy here in the evenings as they are during the day. There are even school children, in school uniform, catching buses and walking along roads at 9 in the evening. When I got off the bus in my neighbourhood, I found myself walking along pavements even more full of people and street-vendors and vegetable sellers than in the afternoon.

I also found the Starbucks. Not that I’m enamoured of the idea of Starbucks, but always good to prove the guidebook’s prophecies of ‘a Starbucks on every corner’ right. I was also feeling peckish, so I even wandered into the KFC but I have to admit that the advert near the door for a shrimp-zinger burger scared me off a little. I skipped the chicken (or shrimp) and headed home, only stopping at the little cafe/supermarket on the corner near my flat for some essentials on the way.

It’s definitely going to take me a while to get used to the idea that it is perfectly safe to walk alone at night but knowing that everyone else – from school children to old ladies – is also out and about helps. Even if I do still constantly pay attention to everyone else on the road and make a point of keeping a firm hold on my bag.

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