Monthly Archives: October 2009

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.

Nightlife in Daegu

Daegu, Food, ,
A friend pointed out the other day that I haven’t talked very much about Daegu nightlife on this blog. This is partly because I’m not all that active a part of the nightlife scene but it’s not really fair to a city which has plenty going on, particularly over weekends.
In fact, many people apparently also go out during the week, although after our experience of trying to find somewhere to have dinner on Tuesday night, I’m not sure where they go. I had arranged to have dinner with a friend after work, so we met at the Samdeok Fire Station taxi drop-off point as usual. It was a chilly evening and downtown was strangely empty. I’m used to the area throbbing with crowds and noise on Fridays and Saturdays, so it was odd to see the alleys dark and the streets almost deserted. At one point, on our way to try and find a Mexican place we’d been told about, we walked past a waiter (he was wearing an apron) and a friend playing badminton in the street outside an almost deserted coffee shop – one of the few with lights still on. We contemplated stopping there but it looked more coffee shop than restaurant and we were hungry, so we went on to The Holy Grill. I’ve seen ads for the Holy Grill all over since I got here. It’s run by foreigners and serves ‘comfort food’ (according to the menu). Until this week, I hadn’t actually eaten there. The place is divided into two levels – a second-floor restaurant and a third-floor sports bar (with snack menu). It sounds like this (the two levels) is a fairly recent development. The menu definitely a wide range of what many Westerners would consider comfort food – from Burgers and Steak-rolls (Philly Cheese Steak for the Americans) to a Tex-Mex section and even good old Macaroni and Cheese. In retrospect, I probably should have had the Mac and Cheese. I ordered a burger and it wasn’t bad but I wasn’t overly impressed. I suppose I assumed it would aim to taste like a burger back home, forgetting that what is normal for me is probably not normal for the Americans who are the biggest customer group of this venue. My friend had something Mexican (a burrito?) which she seemed to enjoy, although they didn’t have guacamole, which is a disappointment if you’re going to be a place that serves Mexican food. Not a bad place to go if you’re looking for specific things but I don’t think I’ll be spending all my evenings there.
Oddly, the entrance to the Holy Grill is right next to the spot where many evenings downtown start: Gogo Vinyl. I like cocktails. Living in and later visiting Joburg with friends who are significantly more sophisticated and trendy than me, I was introduced to the wonderful world of cocktails at places like Bar Six in Melville and became quite fond of them. One of the things I secretly love about cocktails is that they’re so sophisticated in their elegant glasses with garnish and, because I am a fan of margaritas in particular, things like salt around the glass. Gogo Vinyl goes in for a whole different style of cocktail. This, along with Viniroo just down the road, is where you get ‘bag-drinks’. Bag-drinks are cocktails over ice in a ziplock-type plastic bag, with a straw. They’re also, from these particular places, cocktails with a ‘alcohol-to-taste’ twist – all at no extra cost. Gogo Vinyl has apparently now opened a proper bar a few doors down but the original Gogo, apart from a tiny number of seats inside, is really a tuck-shop type window onto the street where people buy their bags and then stand around, or sit on the odd benches scattered in the road and drink them. In the heat of summer this is great, although I imagine people may start drifting indoors as the weather cools. Viniroo and Gogo are in direct competition but there isn’t a huge difference in price or variety of options. The cocktails themselves are not fantastic but they’re about as good as can be expected for the price (around 5000 won).
Along the street from the bag-drink places is one of the few restaurants I’ve sampled downtown (as most evenings start rather later than I like to eat, I generally have dinner before going out). Italy-Italy (or Italy & Italy as it’s apparently actually called) is a little pizza/pasta place where you can create your own pizza/pasta from a list of options. When you sit down, each person is handed a check-list style menu where you fill in your name and then start choosing. There are three portion sizes, named something along the lines of hungry, very hungry and starving (that’s not exactly right but something like that) and two options: pizza or pasta. Once you’ve chosen your size and type of food, you choose sauces, pasta-type, toppings and for pizza, the shape of your pizza (heart-shaped pizza anyone?). The food is tasty and the range of options are not bad, even if there are little things missing that you’d find in Western countries and which we all lament every time we go there. I had dinner there a while ago and had a lovely Alfredo Pasta, although the wine wasn’t great, but that may have been our choice of wine. That particular evening, we also went to a lovely little Martini Bar (which was completely empty and had a remarkably uneven wood floor – quirks to remember places by) but I didn’t see an English name at the time and I keep forgetting to ask what it was called.
This block of one street – where Italy-Italy, the bag drink places and Holy Grill are – seems to be the most common meeting place and where most people start their downtown evenings. From there people scatter to various bars, clubs and other restaurant/drinking places. I haven’t been to all that many but I have spent a little time in Organ Bar and Who’s Bob. I’ve avoided  dance clubs so far, partly because they charge cover and because I have yet to walk past a place and be sufficiently excited by the music to want to go in.
The place that ends many evenings – and the place that sometimes shows rugby and therefore makes me happy – is Commune’s – variously also called ‘Commune’, ‘the commune’ and ‘Commune’s Lonely Hearts Club’. It’s a somewhat dark basement bar, with walls painted black with designs and pictures in white, photos of famous rock stars, a drum-set and PA system in the corner and a few tables set around the room. A lot of people do not like this particular bar and talk about it as dodgy and dingy and generally unpleasant. I don’t find it that way at all but I think my perspective may be a little tainted with nostalgia, partly because the atmosphere (and sometimes the music) reminds me a little of CJs, where I spent so many happy nights in during varsity, and partly because this is the first place I went out downtown, so it feels familiar. It probably also appeals less to those who are used to (and like) the sparkly-new, colourful world of the much younger bar-crowd. Some of the other places feel a little like a kindergarten classroom to me in terms of the range of  and the atmosphere – in comparison to Commune’s anyway. My friend and I actually stopped at Commune’s on our way home on Tuesday and the place was deserted except for the barman sitting quietly behind his bar and playing good song after good song – it was odd to be in Commune’s without anyone else there.
All of the above tend to be the haunts of the rare Saturday night when I actually make it out (and all other Saturdays for the rest of the crowd). Fridays are a whole different experience. Near one of the other branches of my school (where a good friend works) is a restaurant/bar called The Hut. At least, I don’t know if it’s actually called that or for that matter if it has an English name at all. Or any name. To us, however, it’s The Hut and it is where people generally gather after work on a Friday. Given that most of us are teaching at Hagwons, ‘after work’ tends to mean somewhere around 10 or 11pm but when that time rolls around the two back tables are pretty much reserved for the foreigner teachers. The place itself apparently used to be a restaurant specifically for men to take their mistresses, which is why there are absolutely no windows. It also appears to be the reason that the wooden poles and decorations carved around the place are somewhat… um… obvious. The main drinks of the place are Dongdongju, Soju and Beer (in large pitchers). These evenings vary in terms of who is there but some things are constant. Like the topics of conversation – school, where everyone is from, things that bother people about Korea and comparisons with home. And the fact that the Ajummas who run the place will bring out a variety of free nibbling-foods at some point. These include cucumber sticks, kimchi (unsurprisingly), other bits and pieces and, which always gets everyone particularly excited, a plate piled with salty fried eggs. There is also an actual menu and they serve all sorts of Korean food, including kimchi pizza. They also do a platter of chickens’ feet – which was ordered by one of the Koreans in the group the other day and thoroughly grossed out the foreigners. It was quite funny to watch.
I have yet to experience one of the karaoke clubs which are apparently so common here. They’re called Noraebangs. I don’t mind karaoke but these sound a little different from karaoke experiences back home. I’m used to karaoke evenings involving a sound system set up in a bar where everyone who wants to puts down his or her name on a list and picks a song and then sings. Here you apparently pay for a room where you pick songs and sing as a small group, just you and your friends, in your own room. So a little different but on my list of things to try at some point.
Ultimately, I still prefer going out to dinner at a good restaurant with friends and an evening of good conversation and laughter to ‘real’ partying but sometimes it’s good to venture out into the somewhat unreal world of Daegu nightlife with some of the other foreigners and relive some of the crazy nights I remember from places like Grahamstown and Stellenbosch, the kind of times that only youth (or the borrowed youth of friends you’re out with) and a transient existence can create.

A friend pointed out the other day that I haven’t talked very much about Daegu nightlife on this blog. This is partly because I’m not all that active a part of the nightlife scene but it’s not really fair to a city which has plenty going on, particularly over weekends.

In fact, many people apparently also go out during the week, although after our experience of trying to find somewhere to have dinner on Tuesday night, I’m not sure where they go. I had arranged to have dinner with a friend after work, so we met at the Samdeok Fire Station taxi drop-off point as usual. It was a chilly evening and downtown was strangely empty. I’m used to the area throbbing with crowds and noise on Fridays and Saturdays, so it was odd to see the alleys dark and the streets almost deserted. At one point, on our way to try and find a Mexican place we’d been told about, we walked past a waiter (he was wearing an apron) and a friend playing badminton in the street outside an almost deserted coffee shop – one of the few with lights still on. We contemplated stopping there but it looked more coffee shop than restaurant and we were hungry, so we went on to The Holy Grill. I’ve seen ads for the Holy Grill all over since I got here. It’s run by foreigners and serves ‘comfort food’ (according to the menu). Until this week, I hadn’t actually eaten there. The place is divided into two levels – a second-floor restaurant and a third-floor sports bar (with snack menu). It sounds like this (the two levels) is a fairly recent development. The menu definitely a wide range of what many Westerners would consider comfort food – from Burgers and Steak-rolls (Philly Cheese Steak for the Americans) to a Tex-Mex section and even good old Macaroni and Cheese. In retrospect, I probably should have had the Mac and Cheese. I ordered a burger and it wasn’t bad but I wasn’t overly impressed. I suppose I assumed it would aim to taste like a burger back home, forgetting that what is normal for me is probably not normal for the Americans who are the biggest customer group of this venue. My friend had something Mexican (a burrito?) which she seemed to enjoy, although they didn’t have guacamole, which is a disappointment if you’re going to be a place that serves Mexican food. Not a bad place to go if you’re looking for specific things but I don’t think I’ll be spending all my evenings there.

Oddly, the entrance to the Holy Grill is right next to the spot where many evenings downtown start: Gogo Vinyl. I like cocktails. Living in and later visiting Joburg with friends who are significantly more sophisticated and trendy than me, I was introduced to the wonderful world of cocktails at places like Bar Six in Melville and became quite fond of them. One of the things I secretly love about cocktails is that they’re so sophisticated in their elegant glasses with garnish and, because I am a fan of margaritas in particular, things like salt around the glass. Gogo Vinyl goes in for a whole different style of cocktail. This, along with Viniroo just down the road, is where you get ‘bag-drinks’. Bag-drinks are cocktails over ice in a ziplock-type plastic bag, with a straw. They’re also, from these particular places, cocktails with a ‘alcohol-to-taste’ twist – all at no extra cost. Gogo Vinyl has apparently now opened a proper bar a few doors down but the original Gogo, apart from a tiny number of seats inside, is really a tuck-shop type window onto the street where people buy their bags and then stand around, or sit on the odd benches scattered in the road and drink them. In the heat of summer this is great, although I imagine people may start drifting indoors as the weather cools. Viniroo and Gogo are in direct competition but there isn’t a huge difference in price or variety of options. The cocktails themselves are not fantastic but they’re not bad for the price (around 5000 won).

Along the street from the bag-drink places is one of the few restaurants I’ve sampled downtown (as most evenings start rather later than I like to eat, I generally have dinner before going out). Italy-Italy (or Italy & Italy as it’s apparently actually called) is a little pizza/pasta place where you can create your own pizza/pasta from a list of options. When you sit down, each person is handed a check-list style menu where you fill in your name and then start choosing. There are three portion sizes, named something along the lines of hungry, very hungry and starving (that’s not exactly right but something like that) and two options: pizza or pasta. Once you’ve chosen your size and type of food, you choose sauces, pasta-type, toppings and for pizza, the shape of your pizza (heart-shaped pizza anyone?). The food is tasty and the range of options are not bad, even if there are little things missing that you’d find in Western countries and which we all lament every time we go there. I had dinner there a while ago and had a lovely Alfredo Pasta, although the wine wasn’t great, but that may have been our choice of wine. That particular evening, we also went to a lovely little Martini Bar (which was completely empty and had a remarkably uneven wood floor – quirks to remember places by) but I didn’t see an English name at the time and I keep forgetting to ask what it was called.

This block of Rodeo Street – where Italy-Italy, the bag drink places and Holy Grill are – seems to be the most common meeting place and where most people start their downtown evenings. From there people scatter to various bars, clubs and other restaurant/drinking places. I haven’t been to all that many but I have spent a little time in Organ Bar and Who’s Bob. I’ve avoided  dance clubs so far, partly because they charge cover and because I have yet to walk past a place and be sufficiently excited by the music to want to go in.

The place that ends many evenings – and the place that sometimes shows rugby and therefore makes me happy – is Communes – variously also called ‘Commune’s’, ‘The Commune’ and ‘Commune’s Lonely Hearts Club’. It’s a somewhat dark basement bar, with walls painted black with designs and pictures in white, photos of famous rock stars, a drum-set and PA system in the corner and a few tables set around the room. A lot of people do not like this particular bar and talk about it as dodgy and dingy and generally unpleasant. I don’t find it that way at all but I think my perspective may be a little tainted with nostalgia, partly because the atmosphere (and sometimes the music) reminds me a little of CJs, where I spent so many happy nights in during varsity, and partly because this is the first place I went out downtown, so it feels familiar. It probably also appeals less to those who are used to (and like) the sparkly-new, colourful world of the much younger bar-crowd. Some of the other places feel a little like a kindergarten classroom to me in terms of the range of  and the atmosphere – in comparison to Commune’s anyway. My friend and I actually stopped at Commune’s on our way home on Tuesday and the place was deserted except for the barman sitting quietly behind his bar and playing good song after good song – it was odd to be in Commune’s without anyone else there.

All of the above tend to be the haunts of the rare Saturday night when I actually make it out (and all other Saturdays for the rest of the crowd). Fridays are a whole different experience. Near one of the other branches of my school (where a good friend works) is a restaurant/bar called The Hut. At least, I don’t know if it’s actually called that or for that matter if it has an English name at all. Or any name. To us, however, it’s The Hut and it is where people generally gather after work on a Friday. Given that most of us are teaching at Hagwons, ‘after work’ tends to mean somewhere around 10 or 11pm but when that time rolls around the two back tables are pretty much reserved for the foreigner teachers. The place itself apparently used to be a restaurant specifically for men to take their mistresses, which is why there are absolutely no windows. It also appears to be the reason that the wooden poles and decorations carved around the place are somewhat… um… obvious. The main drinks of the place are Dongdongju, Soju and Beer (in large pitchers). These evenings vary in terms of who is there but some things are constant. Like the topics of conversation – school, where everyone is from, things that bother people about Korea and comparisons with home. And the fact that the Ajummas who run the place will bring out a variety of free nibbling-foods at some point. These include cucumber sticks, kimchi (unsurprisingly), other bits and pieces and, which always gets everyone particularly excited, a plate piled with salty fried eggs. There is also an actual menu and they serve all sorts of Korean food, including kimchi pizza. They also do a platter of chickens’ feet – which was ordered by one of the Koreans in the group the other day and thoroughly grossed out the foreigners. It was quite funny to watch.

I have yet to experience one of the karaoke clubs which are apparently so common here. They’re called Noraebangs. I don’t mind karaoke but these sound a little different from karaoke experiences back home. I’m used to karaoke evenings involving a sound system set up in a bar where everyone who wants to puts down his or her name on a list and picks a song and then sings. Here you apparently pay for a room where you pick songs and sing as a small group, just you and your friends, in your own room. So a little different but on my list of things to try at some point.

Ultimately, I still prefer going out to dinner at a good restaurant and an evening of good conversation and laughter to ‘real’ partying but sometimes it’s good to venture out into the somewhat unreal world of Daegu nightlife with some of the other foreigners and relive some of the crazy nights I remember from places like Grahamstown and Stellenbosch, the kind of times that only youth (or the borrowed youth of friends you’re out with) and a transient existence can create.