A Daegu evening

I got off work right at sunset today, and as the afternoon heat was fading to a balmy evening, I decided to take the 15-minute walk to Dongdaegu train station and catch the subway to the Home Plus store just across the river from my neighborhood. The trip was uneventful: apples, soybean oil, pancake syrup, check, check, check.

On the way home I walked across the footbridge over the river, and it was just lovely, the creakety old bridge lit by plastic lanterns, the duck boats sitting at mooring in the gloaming, the neon lights of the motels and restaurants on the west bank gleaming.

I passed the little traditional restaurants by the river, with their tabletops just above floor level, with customers unwinding at the end of the day, some watching big-screen tv's tuned to the Samsung Lions-- our team. People walked past me in the near-dark, toddlers laughing and hopping between their parents, and young couples, girls with their glossy black hair and summer dresses, boys with their American baseball caps and bemused, slightly proud expressions, for they were holding hands with girls with glossy black hair and summer dresses. (I haven't forgotten what it's like.)

And I realized, at last, against every bit of common sense, that Daegu, somehow, has become mine.