Monday, June 08, 2026

today's early-morning walk

This morning, I finally decided to show some character and wake up early, as though I were walking across the country. Rising early is hard when I'm not on a trans-Korea walk. I seem to have a "city mode" and a "country mode," and when necessary, I can switch back and forth between them, but it's hard to get in "country mode" when I'm not planning to walk across the country. So I took my meds, then went out. Based on my walk a few days ago, I knew the morning would be cool, but the coolness was helped by the clouds. It was around 18ºC (64ºF), and by the time I was done, I doubt the temps had risen past 20ºC (68ºF). A very pleasant walk. Unlike my last walk, I decided to document this one, so enjoy the short photo essay.

ramp up to the footbridge taking me out of my neighborhood

looking east-ish at Jamshil

the ramp down to the bike trail

giving a little photo-love to the tiny flowers

maybe a type of fleabane

I'm gonna call these carp mudfish from now on. They're stately, but I bet they taste like dirt.

a bunch of bridges and ramps as I walk alongside the Tan Creek (right side, not visible)

I still can't get over this new-ish rest area, not even a year old.

As soon as I could, I skipped over to the long, long parking lot to get away from bikers and walkers.

But a dude got out of his car, and we walked together the same way at roughly the same pace, so I moved to the walking path. I hate it when that happens: Some random person pops out and starts walking along the path next to you, or just in front, or just behind, and now it feels as though we're walking together. Introverts can't stand invasions of personal space.

This "temporary" set of offices is starting to feel permanent.

looking across at one of the Olympics-era arenas

'nuther mudfish, Tan-cheon this time and not the Yangjae-cheon

tickseed/Coreopsis

getting close to the 5K mark, my turnaround point, where the Tan-cheon meets the Han-gang (Han River)

on a bright, sunny day, there's no shade and no mercy here

Some sort of landscaping is happening, though.

The spray-painted warning says, "Slow."

Workers assembled for their morning exercises.

table for two in the midst of it all

I imagine the pillar is a harbinger for an eventual ramp.

The U-turn point cometh.

This gap in the orange, plastic posts is where I normally turn around.

heading back

crossing a different bridge over the Tan-cheon

Normally, I cross to the other side, then keep going until I'm at the parking lot, then I turn left.

looking north toward the receding Han

I wonder when that low bridge will finally be done. I might be dead by then.

looking straight ahead

looking left and stadium-ward

I'd been meaning to photograph the incredible amounts of clover for a while now.

Rabbits would have a field day in my part of town. So much clover.

two rental bikes, down for the count

There are so many rental-bike companies in Seoul now, and I've signed up for none of them.

"Toward Yeongdong 2nd Bridge; bike path; one way"

It always amuses me that one way is just two syllables in English, but it's four syllables in Korean: il bang tong haeng/일방통행/一方通行, i.e., "one direction pass-through travel." Korean is normally a compact language when it wants to be, but sometimes, it overstretches in its desire for precise expression. I bet Koreans would perfectly understand just il bang/일방/一方, i.e., "one direction." I should start a campaign.

At the confluence of the Yangjae-cheon and the Tan-cheon. The spray-painted sign says, "Walking path. Walk right." Every motherfucker ignores this, which is partly why I wrote that short story about angry Marv.

the final berm before the footbridge back to my neighborhood

At night in this locale, there are lots of cats. I think they come out because people have been feeding them.

A glimpse farther down the berm's path and up the ramp to the footbridge.

the footbridge in all of its footbridginous glory

It's too small and short to shake a lot.

I have a friend who's absolutely terrified of shaky footbridges.

the ramp back down, with my building waaaaay up ahead on the right

trumpet vine?

back in my neighborhood

flowers, already beaten down by the heat

And the heat's only going to get worse.

roses, also looking tired

the final stretch to my place

There are two or three parks in my neighborhood, all of them nice, all of them well used by walkers and kids needing a place to play basketball or to skate around. Biking is technically not permitted in any of these parks, but of course, that injunction is ignored.

It was a good walk this morning. My alarm woke me up at 4:30; my original plan had been to get out of my building by 4:45 a.m., but I slept in for an hour before my conscience nagged at me enough to persuade me to get out of bed. Very often, when the desire to walk and the desire to sleep conflict, laziness wins, and I sleep a little or a lot more. By 5:45 a.m., it was light outside; had I started an hour earlier, I'd have enjoyed a few minutes of predawn darkness before the first lightening.

As summer continues its relentless march, though, it's going to become hard to decide whether to walk in the early morning or late at night. Early morning, starting while it's dark, might be best because the earth will have had time to cool during the night. Starting at 8 p.m., by contrast, means the earth will have had only a couple hours of cooling after a brutally hot day. Yeah, early morning is probably best. I wonder if this is why Korean Buddhist monks wake up around 3 or 3:30 a.m.


4 comments:

  1. Nice pics. Always enjoy seeing the photo essays of your walks. I think that the city of Seoul is a standout by having good areas to go for a walk, whether it is mountain trails or riverside walks or whatever.

    >Korean is normally a compact language when it wants to be...

    I usually watch Asian drama when using my indoor rowing machine. Forcing me to watch and read subtitles helps me to forget that I am actually exercising. LOL Anyway, in my very unscientific observation, I think that Mandarin/Taiwanese is much more compact than Korean. With Korean shows, they will say something and the English translation is short enough that I can read it before the next part of the conversation takes place. With Taiwanese shows especially, it is the opposite. A character will say something that in my mind is relatively short, but the English translation is quite long, so it will only be on the screen for a blink before the conversation moves on. This seems to be standard throughout the whole show.

    My oral/listening knowledge of Korean/Mandarin/Taiwanese is pretty minimal, so just my uneducated observation.

    Brian

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Despite how compact Korean can be, its sentences do contain a lot of suffixes that can make utterances longer. Perhaps the most compact form of Korean is the one that strips away those suffixes in favor of conveying only brute, basic meaning, e.g., a set of instructions in an IKEA kit or the language you see on many signs (although apparently not "one way" signs).

      Korean books that are translated from English also tend to be bulkier than their English-language counterparts, and if the English original is thick enough (e.g., a Stephen King novel like It), the Korean version will be sold as multiple volumes (I saw this with Clavell's Shōgun long ago). Part of the reason for the bulkiness has to do with how Koreans deal with font size and line spacing. Fonts for books often tend to be on the large side, often in the 12-point range (Korean is an alphabet); line spacing tends to be wider than what one finds in English-language books; I guess that's an aesthetic preference. I don't really know.

      (Cell-phone Korean letters tend to be small, though.)

      In many cases, Korean is at its most compact when the language is at its most Chinese. Example: a proverb like 일석이조 (il seok i jo), or in Chinese, 一石二鳥, i.e., one stone, two birds ("to kill two birds with one stone"). Or 제법공상 (je beop gong sang), the Korean way to say 諸法空相, or literally "all-dharmas-emptiness-character," i.e., all phenomena have the character of emptiness (from the Heart Sutra). You can see the English is less wieldy.

      So Korean at its most Chinese can be very compact indeed—about as compact as the Chinese you were talking about. But when you add back all of the suffixes and other syllables that allow Koreans to form regular sentences, Korean kind of balloons into something more ponderous. So I guess take "compact" with a grain of salt.

      On Twitter/X, though, Korean has an advantage over English: a single Korean syllable can have from 2 to 6 or so letters, and on Twitter, the entire syllable counts as a single character. For English, though, every single letter is counted as a character toward one's character limit. So Koreans can generally say a lot more in the same "space" on Twitter than anglophones can.

      Delete
    2. Interesting. Thanks for the info. Brian

      Delete
  2. Nice walk, and as always, I really enjoyed the photos. Seoul is a great place to get out and about.

    ReplyDelete

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