Tag Archives: parks

Dalseong Park – a sort of kind of zoo

Daegu, , ,

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.

Rose-tinted glasses

Daegu, , , , ,

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.

Autumn colours

Daegu, ,
All of this is still not enough, however, to detract from the glorious autumn colours that have finally set the city in a beautiful blush of reds and yellows and oranges. Yesterday, I went downtown to one of my favourite parks (Gukchae Bosang Park) to see the trees in their autumn glory. I took the bus and then the subway. In the first few months here, I didn’t notice the distance much. Because it was all different, everything felts as though it was simultaneously far away and close by. I’m starting to get more of a sense of distances and how long it actually takes to get from place to place. I’ve lived in cities before and should be used to it by now but the interludes spent in small towns have still always felt more like home, so I still find the time spent travelling frustrating. One of the reasons I prefer buses to subways is that there is something to look at while you’re travelling. They do take longer, however, so it’s always a toss-up of speed versus views. Taking the same bus-route every day also takes away some of the thrill of the views. I now know that it takes at least half an hour for me to get from my area to downtown.
When I reached downtown yesterday, I wandered up the usual road towards the park. One of the things I always find fascinating is how so many people can walk around a city and not notice things. I am always so aware of the places I’m walking past. On this particular road, which I walk down fairly regularly these days, I always notice the new wedding dresses displayed in the windows of the multitude of wedding shops. Sometimes there are pretty dresses but most of them are startlingly over the top. Perhaps it’s just that the ones they display in the windows are their most elaborate but they tend to be rather overloaded with beads and lace and sparkling crystals. I always find myself wondering how they’d actually look on a real, live Korean bride. I’m not one of those women who spends all her time thinking about weddings, but I do love how pretty brides so often look in their wedding finery. I have a feeling that these dresses would not be exactly what I think of as stunningly beautiful. Just another confirmation, I suppose, that concepts of beauty are culturally defined.
The natural beauty of trees in autumn I think of as universal but perhaps that also has culturally contextual meanings for other people. For me, the colours are stunning. I’ve watched many autumns in my life. I haven’t generally lived in places with quite this many trees that lose their leaves in winter, however. Even in Johannesburg, which proports to be the world’s largest man-made forests, the trees don’t all change at the same time. I also don’t remember them being quite as many spectacularly different colours. The trees and bushes in the park seemed each to have chosen a different shade of red or orange or yellow – from pale green-yellow to bright, bright orange and deep, rusty red. Like girls dressed for a dance, each in her own beautiful colour and style. One of the things that makes it particularly beautiful is the way these different colours are scattered – so that you almost never see two trees side-by-side with the same autumn foliage. A row of trees will be a blaze of red, then green, then orange, then yellow.
As I walked through the park taking picture after picture to try and catch the pretty colours, I heard a bell ringing. I noticed this little bell the last time I was here but didn’t pay all that much attention. Right near the Sotdae, there is a bell that rings when the wind blows through the park. I’m not sure the exact significance of the bell is, but knowing that the Sotdae are traditionally guardians of an area and that bells or wind-chimes often have the same purpose, I wondered if it was linked. It was a beautiful round sound carried on the wind, which was gusting around and about the park yesterday, carrying colourful leaves into corners and across the grass. The bell and the Sotdae stood stark against the deep, blue, cold sky and the flaming colours of the trees.
On the other side of the park, there is a paved area next to the great bell, an area that is used by teenagers for roller-blading and skateboarding and BMX-ing (there is a ramp and everything). This open area is at the corner edge of the park, where it meets the intersection of two large roads. On the park-side stands the great-bell in it’s Joseon-style structure on the edge of grassy areas, with various paths leading through the grass and trees. On the other side of the open area, trees stand along two sides of the triangle, dividing the park from the road. Next two these trees are pots of yellow and red and purple flowers (including huge, bright marigolds). It was an explosion of warm colours and rare sunshine on a chilly autumn day. I tried to take pictures of it all but I don’t think I managed to capture it.
After the glorious colours of the park (and pavements as those trees slowly change their green for oranges and reds, too), I wandered through the downtown area. I don’t spend much time downtown during the day but sometimes it’s good to walk around. I always think of downtown as primarily a night-life-entertainment area so it’s sometimes easy to forget that it is actually a major shopping area too. In the evenings, although some shops are open, the major features of pubs and clubs and restaurants. During the day, the shops spill onto the streets, with displays of shoes and racks of clothes on sale and little stalls selling sunglasses and watches and jewellery. People wander along and pop into shops, looking at things and trying to find good deals. I walked around and looked at things. One of the things I was looking for was a pair of gloves because the weather really is getting colder and I am going to need them fairly soon. I didn’t manage to find any gloves but I did stop outside a tiny shop selling scarves. They didn’t appear to be selling anything but scarves, which is a little odd, but they had a wide range of beautiful, thick, warm scarves in all the colours you can imagine. I found myself struggling to pick just one from the lovely selection of warmth and prettiness. Eventually, I settled on a caramel-coloured woollen scarf – a wide scarf that is long enough to keep me properly warm this winter.
And then it was time to go to work so I walked back to the subway station and caught the next train back to Manchon and an evening of teaching.

Everyone who moves to a new place goes through different stages in the process of adjusting. Even though this move is temporary (probably only 1 year) it’s permanent enough to make it a move rather than just travel. This means that I, like everyone else, will be subject to the various effects and adjustment stages of immigration. At the moment, and which I’m told is completely normal, I’m far from enamoured with my current home-city. I’m fully aware that it’s all part of the process, but that doesn’t stop it making me moody and irritable. It doesn’t help, either, that it’s autumn and already cold enough for me to be shivering in my limited winter wardrobe. And that I have the beginnings of a cold.

All of this is still not enough, however, to detract from the glorious autumn colours that have finally set the city alight in a beautiful blush of reds and yellows and oranges. Yesterday, I went downtown to one of my favourite parks (Gukchae Bosang Park) to see the trees in their autumn glory. I took the bus and then the subway. In the first few months here, I didn’t notice the distance much. Because it was all different and strange, everything felts as though it was simultaneously far away and close by. I’m starting to get more of a sense of distances and how long it actually takes to get from place to place. I’ve lived in cities before and should be used to it by now but the interludes spent in small towns have always felt more like home, so I still find the time spent travelling a little frustrating. One of the reasons I prefer buses to subways is that there is something to look at while you’re travelling. They do take longer, however, so it’s always a toss-up between speed and views. Taking the same bus-route every day also takes away some of the thrill of the views. I now know that it takes at least half an hour for me to get from my area to downtown by bus and subway or longer just by bus.

When I reached downtown yesterday, I wandered up the usual road towards the park. One of the things I always find fascinating is how so many people in the world can walk along and not notice things around them. I am always so aware of the places I’m walking past. On this particular road, which I walk down fairly regularly these days, I always notice the new wedding dresses displayed in the windows of the multitude of wedding shops. Sometimes there are pretty dresses but most of them are startlingly over the top. Perhaps it’s just that the ones they display in the windows are their most elaborate but they tend to be rather large, full dresses, overloaded with beads and lace and sparkling crystals. I always find myself wondering how they’d actually look on real, live Korean brides. I’m not one of those women who spends all her time thinking about weddings, but I do love how pretty brides can look in their wedding finery. I have a feeling that these dresses would not be exactly what I think of as stunningly beautiful. Just another confirmation, I suppose, that concepts of beauty are culturally defined.

The natural beauty of trees in autumn I think of as universal but perhaps that also has cultural context for other people. For me, the colours are stunning. I’ve watched many autumns in my life. I haven’t generally lived in places with quite this many trees that lose their leaves in winter, however. Even in Johannesburg, which proports to be the world’s largest man-made forests, the trees don’t all change at the same time. I also don’t remember them being quite as many spectacularly different colours. The trees and bushes in the park seemed each to have chosen a different shade of red or orange or yellow – from pale green-yellow to bright, bright orange and deep, rusty red. Like girls dressed for a matric dance, each in her own beautiful colour and style. One of the things that makes it particularly beautiful here is the way these different colours are scattered – so that you almost never see two trees side-by-side with the same autumn foliage. A row of trees will be a blaze of red, then green, then orange, then yellow.

As I walked through the park taking picture after picture to try and catch the pretty colours, I heard a bell ringing. I noticed the sound the last time I was here but didn’t pay all that much attention. Right near the Sotdae, there is a bell that rings when the wind blows through the park. I’m not sure the exact significance of the bell is, but knowing that the Sotdae are traditionally guardians of an area and that bells or wind-chimes often have the same purpose, I wondered if it is linked. This bell rang with a beautiful round sound carried on the wind, which was gusting around and about the park yesterday, carrying colourful leaves into corners and across the grass. The bell and the Sotdae stood stark against the deep, blue, cold sky and the flaming colours of the trees.

On the other side of the park, there is a paved area next to the great bell, an area that is used by teenagers for roller-blading and skateboarding and BMX-ing (there is a ramp and everything). This open area is at the corner edge of the park, where it meets the intersection of two large roads. On the park-side stands the great-bell in it’s Joseon-style structure on the edge of  trees and grassy areas, with various paths leading through the trees. On the other side of the open area, trees stand along two sides of the triangle, dividing the park from the road. Next to these trees are pots of yellow and red and purple flowers (including huge, bright marigolds). It was an explosion of warm colours and rare sunshine on a chilly autumn day. I tried to take pictures of it all but I don’t think I managed to capture it.

After the glorious colours of the park (and pavements as those trees slowly change their green for oranges and reds, too), I wandered through the downtown area. I don’t spend much time downtown during the day so I always think of it as primarily a night-life-entertainment area. It’s easy to forget that it is actually a major shopping area too. In the evenings, although some shops are open, the major features of pubs and clubs and restaurants – complete with neon lights, loud music and bubbles (yes, one of the places has a bubble-machine that floats masses of bubbled down into the crowded streets). During the day, the shops spill onto the sidewalks and streets, with displays of shoes and racks of clothes and little stalls selling sunglasses and watches and jewellery. People wander along and pop into shops, looking at curiosities and trying to find good deals. I walked around and looked at things for a while. One of the things I was looking for was a pair of gloves because the weather really is getting colder and I am going to need them fairly soon. I didn’t manage to find any gloves but I did stop outside a tiny shop selling scarves. They didn’t appear to be selling anything but scarves, which is a little odd, but they had a wide range of beautiful, thick, warm scarves in all the colours you can imagine. I found myself struggling to pick just one from the lovely selection of warmth and prettiness. Eventually, I settled on a caramel-coloured woollen scarf – a wide scarf that is also long enough to keep me properly warm this winter.

And then it was time to go to work so I walked back to the subway station and caught the next train back to Manchon and an evening of teaching.