Tag Archives: weather

‘Proper’ winter

I think a lot of people I spend time with in Daegu are under the impression that I truly and deeply hate winter. They’d be wrong, as it happens. I am quite fond of winter, actually. I find it exhilarating and invigorating and quite often beautiful. The difference, of course, is that I like the winters I have grown up with and grown to love over many years, rather than the torturous cold I’ve experience for the first time in the last few months. This is not to say that it’s been all bad. Seeing snow was great and the ski trip has been one of the highlights of my time here in Korea. Going to work and especially coming home late at night in the freezing, freezing cold, however, has been horrible.

In the last few weeks, though, the weather has begun to change. It’s not the beginning of spring, which apparently is still a month away. The first stirrings of spring, the swelling buds on trees and the first beginnings of green on the hills are nowhere to be seen. Instead, it feels a little like Daegu has passed out of whatever horrible aberration was the iciness of recent months and into ‘proper’ winter weather (like that I’m used to). Suddenly, day-time temperatures are above freezing and the sun shines strongly enough to make you warm if you can find a sheltered spot. And the air is dry, dry, dry and static-y. And the best of all is the light. One of the reasons I have always loved winter is the clear, crisp air and the winter light that make you feel like you can see for a million miles.

I popped out to the shops at lunchtime today and bravely left a good deal of the winter clothing that I normally drag around with me behind. I was determined to take advantage of the slightly warmer weather and wear normal clothes. I stepped out into crisp but not freezing air. Occasional little gusts of colder air swirled past but for the most part it was perfectly still. I turned a corner and found myself walking in bright sunshine. The glorious rays of light and warmth rained down on me and made me feel like myself again – the same person who used to find a sunshiny spot to sit during school breaks in Queenstown, who used to sit in the library quad soaking up the sunshine in Grahamstown, who could spend hours and hours curled up with a book on the sunny enclosed verandah in Rondebosch.

In the clear air, the park I walked past looked pristine and perfect and each leaf of the trees outlined against the buildings and the sky. The sky. The sky in winter fills my heart with joy. The blue is empty and empty and feels like it goes on forever and ever. On the bus, on the way to work, we came over a hill and the view opened up to a picture of mountains and hills stretching to the sky with a white day-time moon hanging above the horizon. Even the crowded skyscrapers that clutter every corner of this city look sharp and sketched and beautiful in this weather.

I don’t know if it will last. Last year’s February temps suggest that it’ll still be chilly but I might get lucky with weather mostly above zero. I hope it does last for a while, partly because I dread the thought of returning to the bone-chilling weather that marked the first part of this month. But also because I want time to enjoy the kind of winter I love and to spend as much time as possible curled up, cat-like, in the warmth of the winter sun.

Ski trip For The Win: New Year’s Day

I woke up early on 1 January 2009 because the yellow tent I was sharing with two friends at a dodgy beach resort in Tofo, Mozambique, had become unbearably hot and humid, although the day did improve dramatically and ended at a street-party in Inhambane. It was certainly not hot or humid on Jan 1, 2010 but I did wake up relatively early, this time to meet up with friends and head off on a skiing/snowboarding expedition.

I was a little unsure of exactly where we were meeting, so I was relieved to spot a Scotsman with a guitar in the distance. We were first. The others trickled up in dribs and drabs until everyone had arrived (one rather later than the rest). We piled into the bus. ‘Bus’ may be a misnomer, here. It was more like a mini-bus, only slightly smaller than a South African taxi because made for Koreans. Theoretically it was made for 15. I suppose it might fit 15 small Koreans. It definitely struggled to hold 11 foreigners, with luggage, plus one Korean driver. To the point where we had one person sitting on the floor between the seats. It this rather crowded manner, and with several people still in various states of recovering from New Year’s Eve, we set  off to drive across the country to a place called Bear’s Town Ski Resort outside of Seoul.

We stopped about half way there, at a rest-stop, and saw the first glimpses of snow. I began to get excited. As we drove on, there was more and more snow in the fields and on the country roads we passed. Dams or lakes were iced over and lay covered in white snow. There were people on the ice, in little clusters, perhaps fishing. Further on, we started to see snow lying on the sides of the road and then the sides of the mountains. The hills were all covered with the usual Korean forests but under the trees, snow lay on the ground. We were travelling rather slowly at this point, because we had hit New Year’s traffic, so everyone was a little frustrated and very ready to reach our destination. Then someone spotted a shop selling snowboards. We were getting closer.

Eventually we saw ski slopes and -lifts. The driver inched through the traffic onto the resort and up a hill and dropped us off. Assuming we were in the right place, we trudged around for a while looking, unsuccessfully, for a check-in point. Then Tim found a bandy-legged Korean who took him to where the front desk was, all of us following along behind. At the front desk we were told our booking didn’t exist. Quiet, controlled panic ensued. No-one said very much. Then Stuart suggested we check if this was the Youth Hostel. The check-in clerk’s face relaxed, he made a quick call and 10 minutes later we were being led down one hill and up another to the place we were actually supposed to be. Apparently the spot where we were dropped off was the ‘town houses’, rather than the Youth Hostel.

We were booked into two rooms at the Youth Hostel, each designed to sleep 6 people. ‘Youth Hostel’ has here a slightly different meaning from what most people may be used to. For one thing, it seems to be the preferred holiday accommodation for family groups, I suppose because it is cheaper than most other accommodation and not a love-motel. The second difference is that the rooms had no beds. This is not as completely crazy as it sounds. The traditional Korean way of sleeping is on a mat directly on the heated floor – ondol-style rooms, they are called. Some people found sleeping on the floor extremely uncomfortable but I was happy. It meant that we had far more space in the room than we would have had had it been full of bunk-beds – the living space was more spacious. It also proved hazardous to stray chocolates, which would sit on the floor and melt and then get plastered to the bottom of sleeping mats, duvets and pillows.

Both rooms had balconies looking out over the slopes. Ours looked out across the main ski rental place, practice area (bunny hill) and food stops (including the KFC) at the bottom of two of the slopes. From the room, we could watch people skiing and see the huge vehicles packing down the snow between sessions and hear strains of K-pop coming from the lifts.

As soon as we’d settled in, we found food. Most of us had KFC and largely regretted it. The food seemed to tire people out. Everyone in our room was cuddled under blankets. And then someone suggested duvet wars. Duvet wars involve wrapping yourself in duvets and pillows and then running into one or more other people who are similarly wrapped up and falling over. They also wake people up. We joined the others in room 309 and enjoyed a rather ridiculous game while we waited for the evening skiing/snowboarding session to begin.

This resort has several sessions every day – dawn, morning, afternoon, evening and midnight (although their signage is not that clear). The times are rather random and they are separated by an hour or so each time, when they press the snow with ‘snow groomers’ (according to the website). The evening session runs from 18:30 to 23:00. Two of the guys in our group were going snowboarding. We kept them company as they got their gear and got all decked out. Snowboarding gear makes you look cool. They headed off to try the slopes.

The rest of us had decided to try sledding, which seemed a lot less energetic while still being super-fun. We were given directions to the sledding place and set off. It was quite a walk, and some of the group peeled off and headed elsewhere as we went. We got there eventually (“look for the golf,” the instructions had said) and found the sledding area. The tickets weren’t particularly expensive and included the ski-lift. There was a tiny little baby sledding slope for the very young children, and then a larger one for older kids and adults, up a ski-lift, which we tried.

I should perhaps mention, at this point, that I have never been in snow deep enough or lasting long enough to do more than build a tiny, miserable little snow dwarf and get wet feet as it melted, so almost everything about this trip was new and exciting for me. Getting on a ski-lift for the first time included. I was rather nervous. We sat down in the seat as it slammed into the back of our knees and moved quickly off, with the bar with foot-bits across us. It did not feel secure. In fact, it felt like people should be strapped in. It was not massively high but definitely high enough that it would have been dangerous to fall down. The view of the snowy world from above was beautiful, though. It’s hard to explain to people for whom it is an ordinary sight, how spectacularly beautiful the first sight of snow on the rocks in a wintry stream or on the bare branches of trees seemed to me. It was evening, too, so everything was a black and white picture-postcard winter-wonderland.

Towards the top of the ski-lift’s run, it occurred to us that we didn’t know exactly how to get off, so we watched the people ahead of us, lifted the bar across our knees at the same point they had, and hopped up and started to run as soon as our feet hit the ground. It proved to be the right thing to do. We then grabbed our sleds and headed for the slope. The sleds were little and plastic, with a string to hold onto. When you reached the front of the queue, you sat in the sled and pushed yourself forward with your feet and then took off down the hill. The rush of wind in your hair… oh, wait … hat… um… the rush of wind past you, the feel of the snow under your sled, the speed and attempts to steer right and left to avoid someone else who has fallen over. I could feel the adrenaline pumping. It wasn’t so high that it was scary, but trying to steer the sled and avoid falling over and not run into the wall all at the same time took almost complete concentration. I got a first inkling of how people can feel completely absorbed in snow-sports for hours on end.

We had three runs, taking the ski lift back up each time. My first introduction to snow and I loved it. Back at the youth hostel, we got warm and settled down to play games and chat. And then it started to snow. From our window, we watched the snow falling and flurrying across the practice area under the huge floodlights and the railings of our balcony slowly turn to white. It was so pretty. Actual snow falling out of the actual sky. The others said it was very small for real snow but as the snow-novice in the group, I didn’t mind. It was still snowing when we went to bed, much to the joy of the snowboarders because it would apparently do good things for the slopes. It was a good start to the weekend and a great start to 2010.

Rivers, bridges and parks

Sometimes the best way to deal with the cold, particularly if it’s still dry and sunshiny, is to get out and spend some time in the sun. Yesterday was a beautifully clear day, so I set off in search of a park.

The only major park I have not yet seen in Daegu is Mangu Park. After yesterday, I still haven’t managed to find it, but I’m not too concerned because I found a lovely river-park instead. And some bridges. Rivers and bridges. That’s how I like to think of Korea, rivers and bridges and mountains. I don’t see it often enough because most of the city is built up, but this area, out towards the airport in the North East, has lovely views of the hills and mountains that surround the city and plenty of river and bridges.

Most of the river-parks, of which I am rather fond, are quite far from where I live and getting there is a case of trial and error because they internet (the source of all knowledge, of course) doesn’t seem to know about them. This one was another accidental discovery. I took bus 814 all the way out past Dongdaegu station before I found it. Actually, I have a feeling the park I was originally looking for (Mangu Park) should be in the same vicinity but this one caught my attention first, so it won.

Just to complete the context, although there was sun yesterday and it was exquisitely clear, it was the kind of clear that only happens because an icy wind is blowing away everything that could possibly make the day hazy. The only thing marring the perfectly icy-blue sky were the icy trails created by some military aircraft that were buzzing around(the airforce base is nearby).

I was dressed warmly – with two long tops, a thick, warm hoodie and a winter jacket, as well as a thick scarf – but that didn’t stop it being cold. Walking along beside the river, my hands actually got numb from the cold and the wind was biting. The needles of ice in the wind actually made my eyes water with cold.

But the sun was shining and sparkling on the dark, chilly water and the wind was fresh, even as it blew my scarf around and half strangled me and ruffled up my hair, and REM was playing on my mp3 player, so I kept on walking. It was invigorating and so lovely to be outside. I think the thing I like least about winters this cold is that they make me want to stay inside. The cold made me think of Saturdays spent at school sports events, particularly when I first started working and we’d end up at random places all over South Africa standing around in the icy, dry winds watching kids play soccer or netball or perform traditional dances.

I’m glad I woke up early and went to the park. So much better to have that in the day than merely a whole 24 hours with nothing but the drudgery of work.