Yesterday I went for a walk at Suseong Lake. Now that I’ve moved, the lake is very close by. I stepped out of my building and slipped the half-block up to the main road that runs past the lake. I walked along the block as the cars rushed past, past the Italian restaurant and a town-house complex with enough security to be in a Joburg suburb, towards the huge intersection. This intersection is where 5 roads meet, most of which are at least 4 lanes wide, two double carriage-ways. Just crossing the road is an exercise in patience and coordination involving three different traffic-phases to cross three different major roads. It’s highly advisable to wait for the pedestrian light each time. In fact, it’s the only way to survive – the traffic is fast and the drivers have no sympathy for careless pedestrians.

It was a chilly, overcast day and I was wrapped up in a water-proof jacket over my sweatpants, top and takkies. I walked past the artificial waterfall, not currently functioning because of the winter, and towards the lake. A light drizzle was settling in as I reached the water. I spent some time looking at the view. The water was grey-green, the buildings in the distance were misty-pale-grey, the bare tree trunks and branches were grey-brown.

I set off at a brisk pace. Old songs that I’ve sung many times before were playing in my mind, so I sang quietly as I walked along. Near the outdoor exercise equipment park-let, I stopped to watch the ducks swimming by.  There were no duck-boats on the lake.

Further on, I stepped through a muddy patch and made my way around a party of people who had just left the restaurant on the water. At the gazebo, the old men were playing boardgames, as usual, with plastic linings protecting them from the dripping rain.

Along the far side of the lake, the paved path disappears. I’ve never noticed that before. I walked along the muddy ground past the amusement park. Through windows, I could see employees sitting at deserted ticket offices next to wet and silent rides. The pathways sat slick and damp. Everything was wet and still. There is something eerie about a silent, empty amusement park. The low clouds turned the afternoon dusk-grey.

I walked back towards the intersection. The wind blew the falling rain into my face. The noisy geese that have recently taken up residence on the lake swam along on the other side of the lake, keeping pace with me as I walked. Their cries sounded like creaking doors or the screek of metal-on-metal. I could hear the quiet splashes of cars driving along the wet roads on the other side. I walked along and let the rain fall onto my face. Walking in the rain always makes me feel alive.

By the end of the walk, I was also starting to feel cold. I popped into a Family Mart to pick up some ice-cream – because there is nothing better on a cold day than Belgian Chocolate ice-cream – and a couple of other bits and pieces before heading home. The day remained cold and drizzly. Most of the days are like that at the moment. Bare trees against rolling grey clouds dominate the scenery. Walking in the rain makes it better. Walking near the water, in the wind, on a cold, miserable day feels better after hours and days inside heated buildings. Sunshine would be better, but fresh air and rain and wind on skin feels a little bit like freedom.