Monthly Archives: March 2010

Today is a beautiful day

Daegu,

Today is a beautiful day. This doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. People sometimes find it strange that I can say that it’s a beautiful day or describe an amazing experience but not necessarily be generally happy with life. There is an odd perception that being happy means always being happy and vice versa. I’ve never bought it, but it’s always bothered me a little. I recently watched a TED talks video that does a pretty good job of suggesting why it is a problem (and why our concept of happiness is probably off). Daniel Kahneman distinguishes between the ‘experiencing self’ and the ‘remembering self’. This blog post is series of snapshots of what makes me happy not because of the story I can tell but because of the moments that appeal to the ‘experiencing self’.

The sun is shining today for a change and there is now wind, so there is actually a little bit of warmth. I walked at the lake earlier. The water was aqua-marine coloured when I arrived. Blue-green water rippling ever so gently against the grey walls of the lake and the grassy patches where the ducks and geese pottered.

On one side of the lake, there are various food vendors. They don’t have buildings. Instead, they arrive each day and set up their little portable cookers and their colourful umbrellas and their little plastic tables and chairs. I tend not to walk before around 11am, so by the time I get there, there are usually two or three old men sitting at at least one of the food stalls, drinking Soju or Makgeolli and snacking on snack-food sold by little old ladies. Today, when I walked past one of the food stalls, there was the most gorgeous smell of cooking. I have no idea what was cooking but it had me salivating.

I stopped because my foot was hurting and found myself sitting on a bench looking out at the skyscrapers reflected in the still water across the lake. The lack of wind meant the water looked totally still from here. The sky was blue behind the huge skyscrapers of the complex near my flat and still water reflected the buildings and the sky perfectly.

I stopped along the near side of the lake. From where I was standing, I could see the intersection of two busy roads. It was approaching mid-day and cars and trucks and buses rushed along the roads. Senior citizens in over-priced hiking outfits walked up the steps to begin their treks around the lake.  In spite of the business, it seemed peaceful. Perhaps it was all in my head, but there was a particular Friday-ish feeling to it all.

On my way home, I went down to one of the nearby take-away places that sells Western-style food. On the way there, I passed a restaurant I’ve passed many times. I clearly hadn’t paid much attention before, however. It wasn’t until today that I noticed that it does not in fact advertise itself as a ‘Japanese Restaurant’ but rather a ‘Japanesque Restaurant’.

The sun sparkled off the blue blocks in the pavement. Most of the pavement is grey and brick-like, although characteristically patterned – as everything is in Korea – but the patterns include blocks that sparkle in the sunlight.

Fried Calamari for lunch. I have somehow managed not to eat very much seafood in my time in Korea – although I’m still not sure how I’ve managed that in a country that is competing with Japan in the race to make sea-life extinct. I definitely haven’t eaten fried calamari rings. The taste and the smell made me think of the waterfront. I closed my eyes and I could picture the early spring sunlight sparkling on the harbour water and sitting on a bench at Quay Fou, eating Calamari and drinking white wine and the laughter of the friends who shared those moments with me.

Today is a beautiful day.

Snow Day (except without the time off)

Daegu,

This has been a strange week, weather-wise. On Monday, when I checked the extended forecast, I was somewhat dismayed to discover that there was snow predicted for Wednesday. I have nothing against snow in theory, in fact I quite like it, but I’m trying very had to convince myself that spring is on the way, so the idea of more cold did not thrill me.

On Tuesday night when I went to close the windows before going to bed, I looked out at a world sprinkled with pure white snow. I say close the windows here to mean the same as closing the curtains would at home. Houses in Korea, or at least the ones I have lived in, don’t have curtains. There are no curtain rails and no pretty coloured fabric framing the windows. Instead, there are sort of double-windows, the outside layer being proper windows and the inside layer being opaque panes, providing the privacy normally provided by curtains. Oh, and the outside-outside layer being mosquito netting which somewhat annoyingly obscures the view but is essential when Daegu’s super-sized mozzies descend on the city.

As I looked out at the snowy world, I was excited. I didn’t want the snow to come because of the cold, but a wintery world in the dark of the night is really quite pretty. I assumed the snow would melt fairly quickly, as it has the last few times there have been a few stray flakes floating down, which, each time, melted as they hit the ground. This time, however, it was different. I woke up to a world positively blanketed in white.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been a great excuse to stay in bed and savour the warm but I was feeling adventurous so, after wrapping up in layer upon layer of warm winter clothes, I headed out to see what Daegu snow looked like. I took my camera, of course, and was taking pictures before I even reached the street.

In spite of my aversion to cold, there is something enchanting about a fresh fall of snow. As I turned up my street, towards the main road, I looked up at the wooded area across the main road. Each tree and fence-post had a layer of snow turning it from ordinary into fairy-tale. I walked along the road towards the lake, enjoying the novelty of the unexpected layer of white.

The lake lay grey and cold as it reflected the heavy clouds, but no rain or snow was falling as I walked towards it. All around me, tree trunk stood out black against the fallen snow. I felt like I’d walked into the stories and poems I’ve read for so many years. The day was warming up a little and water was starting to drip from tree branches and flow in tiny rivulets towards the lake. As I stopped to take a closer look, I saw water flowing in twisted paths between layers of ice. I walked on.

At one point, I found myself confronted with a path dotted with pools of melt-water and piles of snow. On the edge of the path, sitting on a bench, was a little 30cm snowman someone had build. I took a quick picture before picking my way between the puddles and moving on. At the edge of the lake are two trees, naked of leaves at this season and always making a dramatic picture against the sky and the water. This time, the drama was enhanced by a layer of white snow against the trunk and the branches and a dark and foreboding sky for a backdrop.

At the duckboat rental places, the cheerful little duckboats bobbed and splashed in the water, looking chilly and abandoned under a layer of fresh snow. My camera batteries died at this point. I kept walking and drinking in the prettiness. As the path wound on to the pavement, around the waterfront restaurant, the snow was yellow-brown with the mud below it.

I popped into the Family Mart next to the amusement park and bought some more batteries for the camera. I stopped to take some pictures of the amusement park, dark and silent under the steel-grey cloud, the rides silent as the melting snow lay in piles and water dripped and ran in rivulets.

As I walked back along the shore of the lake, I got some stunning pictures of the tree-covered mountains covered in snow. It struck me as I was walking along, that these images, so novel, so enchanting for me, must be ordinary for so many people. Growing up amidst the wide-open grasslands and rolling hills of Africa, it’s so easy to take for granted how beautiful it all is, a fact I’m reminded of whenever I watch the reaction of people who are seeing it for first time. I suppose this is the reverse of that. I’m glad I have an opportunity to enjoy it.

After the invigorating walk, I returned home and took full advantage of the joy of underfloor heating. The rest of the day was warmer and by the time I came home from work, most of the snow had started to disappear, trees were once again bare and grey-brown and pavements were wet but no longer white with snow. Sadly, we didn’t get the day off work. I’m fairly sure that this amount of snow in SA would have resulted in a complete shut-down of productive activities but I suppose the novelty wears off when it happens every year.

By the next day, the field of white in the vacant lot next to the bus stop had shrunk to a thin line of snow against a fence, where small boys threw watery snowballs at each other in the sunshine. The wind was still chilly but the weather had warmed up otherwise and the beauty of sunlight on snow was almost overwhelmingly amazing. I do hope that this is the last snowfall of the season, because I’m holding thumbs that winter will end soon, but I’m glad I got the chance to see it in all its winter-wonderland, enchanting beauty.

Walking in the rain

Daegu,

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.