Category Archives: Adventures

Madama Butterfly

Adventures, Arts, Daegu, , ,

Life lesson number # (many): Do not wear mascara when going to watch a great tragic opera. Yes, I cried. Even though I knew what was going to happen. It was beautiful.

Someone asked me last night how I understand the opera if it’s in Italian. I definitely don’t speak Italian and the sub-titles at the Daegu Opera House are in Korean, so not particularly helpful to me. What I do is to make sure that I know the story beforehand, so that I can follow what is happening. This works well. In fact, it’s great because I am able to lose myself totally in the music and singing without struggling to follow the story in two foreign languages. As an added benefit, I am slowly becoming properly familiar with the stories of all sorts of operas and ballets (because the ballet synopses are also in Korean), which is never a bad thing.

Last night’s opera was a special performance for the 25th anniversary of the Yeongnam Opera Company. This meant that it was a fairly elaborate production, which is always a bonus. The opera itself is fairly complicated anyway. Sufficiently complicated that Puccini rewrote it 4 times (there are 5 versions) before he got it right. It can’t have been easy to turn the story of an American Naval officer and a Japanese geisha into an Italian opera. Apparently he succeeded because Madama Butterfly is now one of the most-performed operas in the US.

I nearly didn’t get to there last night. There had been plans afoot to take in a musical instead and then I dawdled while getting ready so I was running late. Of course, this point – when I was already running late – would be when I landed a bus-driver who was careful and steady and slow, rather than the insane speed-freaks who could be Joburg taxi drivers and normally drive my buses. I got to the Opera house with 10 minutes to spare, in the end. I have also now established that it takes 1 hour to get from myfront door to the Opera House in Saturday evening traffic. Ticket in hand (30 000 won), I headed up to my seat on the 3rd floor balcony. The balcony seat was a mistake. Not that balcony seats are generally a bad thing but I was in a side-balcony seat, so it was a little difficult to see the whole stage. I still enjoyed myself, though.

I was impressed, the last time I went to an Opera by the set. This one was also impressive. The best description is that it was relatively simple and completely functional but managed to evoke a Japanese scene with ease and elegance. It wasn’t unnecesarily cluttered, which always annoys me in a set, but it wasn’t small either – using the entire stage. The lighting was also, again, excellent. Both the design and execution were spot-on to evoke emotions and create atmosphere in support of the music.

The most important contribution to verisimilitude, however, was from the performers. There were lots of super performances. Cio-Cio San (Madama Butterfly) was excellent and Sharpless’s rich, velvety, chocolatey baritone was gorgeous.

The star of the show for me, though, was Kim Jeong Hwa (I think) singing the part of Suzuki. Her voice was stunning and she paired with excellent characterisation. She was entirely believable in her gestures and mannerisms as Madama Butterfly’s maid and she also paid particular attention to little things. Like shoes. She meticulously took off and straightened her shoes every time she moved from the ‘outdoor’ area of the set into the house. She never once missed it and it did so much to create the separation between the spaces, which were not divided by any sort of physical wall. Her emotions were also believable. The role of Suzuki involves a lot of anguished moments and a fair bit of cowering and crying and she pulled it off.

A particularly entertaining role was that of Goro, the matchmaker. The performer singing this part had a wonderfully light touch and really pulled off the greasy, sleazy pimp-persona and added touches of humour and entertainment at exactly the right moments.

The other small part that was an absolute crowd-pleaser was the monk/priest. In the story, Cio-Cio San’s uncle, a Buddhist priest, storms into the wedding party of Butterfly and Pinkerton (the US Navy officer) and curses her for abandoning her ancestral gods to covert to her new husband’s religion. This issue is particularly relevant in Korea so it’s not surprising that the small part was given quite a lot of prominence and the priest was fierce and very good.

I was less impressed with Pinkerton, not because of his singing; his voice was gorgeous but someone needs to teach him a little acting to go with it. Also, I struggled to get past the awful orange-blond hair on a Korean. It wasn’t sufficiently problematic to detract from the experience though and, as I said, his voice was gorgeous.

Another thing about this show I particularly enjoyed was the chorus. This included a large number of people, including children. In the first Act, a group of women entered dressed as geishas but each with an outfit that was white or cream at the top and fading into colour at the bottom, in pinks and sea-greens and oranges, each also carrying a parasols in the same colour. Such beautiful little tableaux with their parasols and fans as part of the wedding scene!

One of the advantages of sitting on the 3rd floor balcony is that you have a perfect view of the orchestra. I love watching orchestras. The intricate dance of movement and timing is fascinating. I particularly enjoyed both watching and listening to this one, the Daegu Opera Festival Orchestra conducted by Andrea Cappelleri. It made me happy. I also had a delightful view of the percussion section. There were three people playing percussion with a wide range of sizes and types of instruments, from triangles and all sizes and shapes of drums to a bird-whistle for the early morning scene in the final act.

Of course, many moments from the show are worth remembering. The Opera started at 7:30pm and only ended at 10pm, so it was quite a long performance. My two favourite moments were towards the end. Act II ends with Cio-Cio San, Suzuki and Dolore (Cio-Cio San’s child) keeping vigil in the house, now strewn with flowers, as they wait for Pinkerton to arrive. As the orchestra kept the vigil musically through the long night, the stage filled with members of the chorus, each with a single light, like a candle, dressed in white and creating such a stunning impression of a long, candle-light vigil. The second moment that sticks with me, partly because it was the moment of tragedy and partly because it was so sumptuously visual, was the final scene: Cio-Cio San’s body on the floor, surrounded by red and purple flower petals and with more petals falling from the sky and the stage awash in red light fading from the spot-light on her body, with Pinkerton calling for Butterfly in the distance.

I’m not sure it’ll become my favourite opera, but I am so glad I saw it and particularly that I saw it in Asia, where some of the themes of the opera are relevant in everyday life and aspects of culture like not wearing shoes inside and bowing in greeting are easy and normal for the performers, making the show just that little bit more authentic and moving.

After the Opera, I headed downtown to have something to eat before meeting up with friends. I was wandering the streets, searching for somewhere that looked good, when I came across a place called Gom’s something or other – possibly Gom’s Workshop. I’ve never noticed it before, which may mean it only opened recently – places downtown are always opening and closing – or may mean that I just haven’t noticed it before. Now that I know about it, I’ll be going back. Picture an industrial-style space with unpainted walls and bare cement floor, but all the piping painted in bright primary colours. The tables and chairs are all different. Every single one. Some are office chairs, some wicker patio furniture, some director’s chairs. In one corner, there is a mural on the wall – a tottering tower of tea-cups, painted in a sketch-like style directly onto the unfinished surface. The wall behind where I was sitting had shelves with a collection of old things – an old type-writer, some radios, an old telephone, a sewing machine.

It felt like the kind of place where I could sit and drink coffee and read a book for ages. Or write. The tag-line of the place seems to be ‘Walk Slowly. Eat Slowly. Think Slowly.’ I had a basic pizza, which was good. They also seem to be quite excited about their draft beer, which they serve with either lemon or lime – properly differentiated and even differently priced. I tried it. It was actually pretty good. It’s the first time I’ve found a place downtown that I can see myself visiting regularly and on my own. A good find for randomly wandering down the street at 10:30 at night on the way home from the Opera.

Madama Butterfly

Life lesson number # (many): Do not wear mascara when going to watch a great tragic opera. Yes, I cried. Even though I knew what was going to happen. It was beautiful.

Someone asked me last night how I understand the opera if it’s in Italian. I definitely don’t speak Italian and the sub-titles at the Daegu Opera House are in Korean, so not particularly helpful to me. What I do is to make sure that I know the story beforehand, so that I can follow what is happening. This works well. In fact, it’s great because I am able to lose myself totally in the music and singing without struggling to follow the story in two foreign languages. As an added benefit, I am slowly becoming properly familiar with the stories of all sorts of Operas and ballets (because the ballet synopses are also in Korean), which is never a bad thing.

Last night’s opera was a special performance for the 25th anniversary of the Yeongnam Opera Company. This meant that it was a fairly elaborate production, which is always a bonus. The opera itself is fairly complicated anyway. Sufficiently complicated that Puccini rewrote it 4 times (there are 5 versions) before he got it right. It can’t have been easy to turn the story of an American Naval officer and a Japanese geisha into an Italian opera. Apparently he succeeded because this is now one of the most-performed operas.

I nearly didn’t get to there, actually. There had been plans afoot to take in a musical instead and then I dawdled while getting ready so I was running late. Of course, this point – when I was already running late – would be when I landed a bus-driver who was careful and steady and slow, rather than the insane speed-freaks (who could be Joburg taxi drivers) who normally drive my buses. I got to the Opera house with 10 minutes to spare, in the end, however. I have also now established that it takes approximately 1 hour to get from my flat to the Opera House in Saturday evening traffic. Ticket in hand (30 000 won), I headed up to my seat on the 3rd floor balcony. The balcony seat was a mistake. Not that balcony seats are generally a bad thing but I was in a side-balcony seat, so it was a little difficult to see the whole stage. I still enjoyed myself, though.

I was impressed, the last time I went to an Opera by the set. This one was also impressive. The best description is that it was relatively simple and completely functional but managed to evoke a Japanese scene with ease and elegance. It wasn’t finicky, which always annoys me in a set, but it wasn’t small either – using the entire stage. The lighting was also, again, excellent. Both the design and execution were spot-on to evoke emotions and create atmosphere in support of the music.

The most important contribution to verisimilitude, however, was from the performers. There were lots of super performances. Cio-Cio San (Madama Butterfly) was excellent and Sharpless’s rich, velvety, chocolatey baritone was gorgeous.

The star of the show for me, though Kim Jeong Hwa (I think) singing the part of Suzuki. Her voice was stunning and she paired with excellent characterisation. She was entirely believable in her gestures and mannerisms as Madama Butterfly’s maid but she also paid particular attention to little things. Like shoes. She meticulously took off and straightened her shoes every time she moved from the ‘outdoor’ area of the set into the house. She never once missed it and it did so much to create the separation between the spaces, which were not divided by any sort of physical wall. Her emotions were also believable. The role of Suzuki involves a lot of anguished moments and a fair bit of cowering and crying and she pulled it off.

A particularly entertaining role was that of Goro the matchmaker. The performer singing this part had a wonderfully light touch and really pulled off the greasy, sleazy pimp-persona and added touches of humour and entertainment at exactly the right moments.

The other small part that was an absolute crowd-pleaser was the monk/priest. In the story, Cio-Cio San’s uncle, a Buddhist priest, storms into the wedding party of Butterfly and Pinkerton (the US Navy officer) and curses her for abandoning her ancestral gods to covert to her new husband’s religion. This issue is particularly relevant in Korea so it’s not surprising that the small part was given quite a lot of prominence and the priest was fierce and very good.

I was less impressed with Pinkerton, not because of his singing; his voice was gorgeous, but someone needs to teach him a little acting to go with it. Also, I struggled to get past the awful orange-blond hair on a Korean. It wasn’t sufficiently problematic to detract from the experience, though and, as I said, his voice was gorgeous.

Another thing about this show I particularly enjoyed was the chorus. This included a large number of people, including children. In the first Act, a group of women entered dressed as geishas but each with an outfit that was white or cream at the top and fading into colour at the bottom, in pinks and sea-greens and oranges, each also carrying a parasols in the same colour. Such beautiful little tableaux with their parasols and fans as part of the wedding scene!

One of the advantages of sitting on the 3rd floor balcony is that you have a perfect view of the orchestra. I love watching orchestras. The intricate dance of movement and timing is fascinating. I particularly enjoyed both watching and listening to this one, the Daegu Opera Festival Orchestra, conducted by Andrea Cappelleri. It made me happy. I also had a delightful view of the percussion section. There were three people playing percussion with a wide range of sizes and types of instruments, from triangles and all sizes and shapes of drums to a bird-whistle for the early morning scene in the final act.

Of course, many moments from the show are worth remembering. The Opera started at 7:30pm and only ended at 10pm, so it was quite a long performance. My two favourite moments were towards the end. Act II ends with Cio-Cio San, Suzuki and Dolore (Cio-Cio San’s child) are keeping vigil in the house, now strewn with flowers, as they wait for Pinkerton to arrive. As the orchestra kept the vigil musically through the long night, the stage filled with members of the chorus, each with a single light, like a candle, dressed in white and creating such a stunning impression of a long, candle-light vigil. The second moment that sticks with me, partly because it was the moment of tragedy and partly because it was so sumptuously visual, was the final scene, with Cio-Cio San’s body on the floor, surrounded by red and purple flower petals and with more petals falling from the sky and the stage awash in red light fading from the spot on her body, with Pinkerton calling for Butterfly in the distance.

I’m not sure it’ll become my favourite opera, but I am so glad I saw it and particularly that I saw it in Asia, where some of the themes of the opera are relevant in every day life and aspects of culture like not wearing shoes inside and bowing in greeting are easy and normal for the performers, making the show just that little bit more authentic and moving.

After the Opera, I headed downtown to have something to eat before meeting up with friends. I was wandering the streets, searching for somewhere that looked good, when I came across a place called Gom’s something or other – possibly Gom’s Workshop. I’ve never noticed it before, which may mean it only opened recently – places downtown are always opening and closing – or may just mean that I haven’t noticed it. Now that I know about it, I’ll be going back. Picture an industrial-style space with unpainted walls and bare cement floor, but all the piping painted in bright primary colours. The tables and chairs are all different. Every single one. Some are office chairs, some wicker patio furniture, some director’s chairs. In one corner, there is a mural on the wall – a tottering tower of tea-cups, painted in a sketch-like style directly onto the unpainted surface. The wall behind where I was sitting had shelves with a collection of old things, like an old type-writer, some radios, an old telephone, a sewing machine.

It felt like the kind of place where I could sit and drink coffee and read a book for ages. Or write. The tag-line of the place seems to be ‘Walk Slowly. Eat Slowly. Think Slowly.’ I had a basic pizza, which was good. They also seem to be quite excited about their draft beer, which they serve with either lemon or lime – properly differentiated and even differently priced. I tried it. It was actually pretty good. It’s the first time I’ve found a place downtown that I can see myself visiting regularly and on my own. A good find for randomly wandering down the street at 10:30 at night on the way home from the Opera.

Silkworms in a can

Adventures, Daegu, Food, , ,

Koreans eat some pretty strange things. Dog-meat, probably the best-known, can still be obtained although it is restricted to special restaurants, is rather expensive and is consequently unlikely to show up randomly in your bulgogi. Some of the snack foods seem to freak the foreigners out even more.

Koreans tend to order and offer lots of side-foods (anju) to nibble on when people are drinking. One of the most popular with my friends is the salty-fried-eggs served at the Hut – our usual Friday-night dongdongju spot. A few weeks back when we were there one of the Koreans in the group ordered chicken’s feet. Having grown up in SA, I am familiar with ‘walkie-talkies‘ and various other unusual (from a Western perspective) animal bits. I’ve even (willingly!) eaten tripe. So I was less thrown than the others and, to be honest, quite enjoyed giggling quietly in the corner as I watched their reactions. I certainly wasn’t jumping to sample it, though.

I was more adventurous last week, when the anju (I think ordered by one of our group) included bugs. When I think of edible bugs, my mind immediately meanders calmly over to mopane worms and all the things you can do with them. I once saw a menu (in Obs – go figure) advertising a starter of feta-stuffed mopani worms.

In Korea they eat silkworms. Or more accurately silkworm pupae. The silkworm pupae are steamed or boiled and then served on a plate. I tried one. It actually wasn’t too bad. It’s difficult to separate taste from texture. I’d describe them as crunchy and salty and juicy. The only problem with them (assuming you can get your head around eating bugs) is that they have a sort of gritty, cement-dust-like aftertaste which isn’t all that pleasant. Also, they’re a mission to pick up if you’re as inept with chopsticks as I still am.

But I tasted them and they weren’t too bad and I didn’t think anything more of it. Until last night. I had just been thinking about Beondegi wondering if they’d make an appearance this Friday night – not that I’m desperate for them; I was just wondering – and I was in the mart (mini-supermarket), when there, between the tinned sweetcorn and the ubiquitous Spam, were tins of silkworms. I couldn’t believe my eyes. One thing to serve bugs with dongdongju and soju in a Korean restaurant/bar, but another thing entirely to sell them, tinned,  in the supermarket. At which point I got the giggles – can’t you just picture it, ‘Honey, I’m just popping down to the mart for a can of silkworms’?

Some days I feel like Korea is a little colony of the USA and then along come the canned silkworms and I feel like I’m on a different planet.

Gyeongju

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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