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.

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.