Summer trove

In Daegu, there's a bustling treasure trove for penny-wise shoppers: the Seomun Market - always replete with the lively colors and shapes of summer fruits and fashion.

Seomun market tells of a proud history that dates back from the ancient Joseon dynasty. It is one of Korea's oldest markets, establishing itself as one of the major commercial niche in Daegu.

It is divided into several districts, including those for dried seafood, food items, fabrics, clothing and accessories, kitchenware, and china. The Ajin shopping district is where artisans flock, for it boasts of a wide array of home furnishings, crafts, and traditional souvenir items. Those who are ardent about the latest but affordable fashion can always choose from the ample selection at the Myungpoom Plaza and Dongsan shopping district. There's always a lively assortment of everything for everyone - artists, designers, gourmets, and frugal shoppers out for a bargain.

The passageways between the shops are also a lively confluence of flavors, aromas, and colors. On the sides are food stalls selling kalkuksu (or knife noodles), kimbap, shiat hotteok (hot bun stuffed with sugar and sunflower seeds), yangnyeom odeng (fish cake), and fresh fruit juices.

In one of my recent trips there, I spotted a queue of people in front of a stall in the middle alley. The stall is loaded with boxes of oranges, lemons, and grapefruits.

The stall owner’s name is Ian, operating the juice extractor - his most essential utensil for the merchandise that is on a plump demand during the hot days of summer. He slices the fruits in half, puts them on the extractor, and wrings the juice into plastic cups with ice. Customers can choose to have some “cider” added for zest. 

In Korea, cider is not the typical pressed apple juice. Rather, it’s the lemon-lime flavored soft drink that tastes like Sprite or 7-Up. I don’t know how it got the name. Perhaps, it was derived from the famous local brand Chilsung Cider. And with a little twist of cider, the lemonade I had was a perfect thirst quencher. 

I also sat on one of the stalls along these food alleys to try one of Koreans’ go-to food: kalkuksu. Trying out the kalkuksu is one great traditional food experience. What makes this unique is that the wheat flour dough is not spun nor pulled; it is simply rolled out thinly and cut in long strips. The noodle is typically served with broth, made with dried anchovies, kelp and shellfish. Then it comes garnished with green onions, sesame seeds, vegetable strips, and Korean red pepper flakes. 

Seomun Market brims with a lot of stories – of people, of culture and traditions, and even of history. Ian and the kalkuksu lady are among the aggregate of features that make Seomun into one amazing treasure trove - one of Daegu’s windows into the Korean soul.

Greening Daegu

In any given task, setting your priorities right always comes with great rewards. In Daegu, many of its citizens have long enjoyed the perks of having clean waterways - a result of giving priority to rehabilitate dying rivers and revive the city into a sustainable green hub.

But back in the early eighties, the scenario was contrary to what it is now. The rapid economic development and population explosion brought Daegu’s most important waterways – the rivers of Geumho, Sincheon and Nakdong – to utter degradation. With high BOD (or biological oxygen demand that measures the degree of water pollution) levels, the rivers were on the brink of dying. In 1984, the downstream portion of the Geumho River was considered dead, with a BOD level that rose up to 111 mg/dL – a condition no longer viable to sustain aquatic life.

The Sincheon river flowing through the heart of the city. (photo # 1)

The next ten years saw the city’s aggressive efforts to restore the rivers’ degraded ecosystem. A total of 1.2 trillion KRW was released from the city’s coffers, from 1983 to 2000, for rehabilitation projects and construction of sewage treatment plants to prevent wastewaters from entering the waterways. One of these is the Sincheon Sewage Treatment plant, which has become the country’s best facility, setting the benchmark for efficiency.  

In 1999, fifteen years after being declared dead, the Geumho River began springing back to life, with the BOD level dropping to 5.1 mg/dL. Common carps and Prussian carps started to find their way back to their habitats. Surprisingly, there have been reports about sightings of otters – an endangered species that thrives on freshwater environments, along Sincheon River. The city’s massive rehabilitation efforts have paid off, having brought back a vulnerable water species back to its home ground.

A heron's hearty lunch. (photo # 2)

It was a feat unparalleled. In Britain, it took 141 years of rehabilitation for the salmon to return to Thames River. In Germany and Japan, it took 23 years to improve water quality of the Rhine and Dama Rivers, respectively.

Making a resolve against environmental degradation is one “politically inconvenient” problem. But Daegu chose to face the challenge, and the world noticed that. In 2006, the Asia-Pacific Forum for Environment and Development recognized Daegu’s painstaking efforts to improve water quality. In April this year, the city was a proud host to the 7th World Water Forum, attended by 30,000 participants from 170 countries.

Daegu has now become an engine of growth and innovation, and that sprang from setting priorities right, and from giving premium to what really matters to become a sustainable city of the future.

Photo credits:

Photo # 1 lifted from http://www.everydaykorea.com/2008/09/daegu-photography-club/

Photo # 2 lifted from http://globaldaegu.blogspot.com/2015/02/tour-watching-diverse-migrant-birds-in.html

Want to be happy? Read!

A recent read about this thing called bibliotherapy - the practice of reading books for therapeutic effect - sent me some ripples of excitement. Growing up with an unremitting appetite for books, I know how it was like to be consumed, as if losing some sense of self, by a work of fiction. And this one - Can Reading Make You Happier? by Ceridwen Dovey for The New Yorker, came as a validation of that feeling, of being carried away into another realm of the universe. Reading fiction, Dovey says, “is one of the few remaining paths to transcendence, that elusive state in which the distance between the self and the universe shrinks”.

It sure is, undoubtedly. And I feel elated by all the voracity for books I seem to have bequeathed to my two young daughters. I have seen them salivate at the mere mention of dropping by bookstores each time we get downtown; how they drool at each new Neil Gaiman or Madeleine L’Engle that come out fresh into the shelves.

They devour books – like Liesel Meminger in Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief - ravenous for stories that transport them into new worlds and people who lived exciting lives. They relish the joys and grief of the stories like they have personally lived them. 

They knew, like Roald Dahl's famous protagonist Matilda, that if you read Jane Austen or Frank Baum, you’d find out there’s more to life than getting up every day for work or school, and that some grown-ups aren’t really grown-ups after all. I admit I get them miffed sometimes, and they retreat to their books for comfort. Unwittingly, bibliotherapy has been around the house for years.

Bibliotherapy, however, is not an escape from reality to an imaginary world. Books are much more than being a frigate than can transport you to some magical place. They draw you to self-awareness, make you bleed with ideas that either conform or disagree with each compelling story, or move you into action.

I came to love running even more because of Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running – a beautiful memoir about his obsession with running and writing. When my body is unwilling, his words resonate in my head, like a muse to some sluggish novelist on a writer’s block. 

There’s so much about a day’s passing, but despite the blistering summer heat, weariness at work, coffee running out, ineptness to put thoughts into words, there are always stories from Umberto Eco, John Steinbeck, and Alice Munro to name a few. 

But most, if not all of my favorite books by Filipino authors aren’t meant for bibliotherapy. They turn me into something else: a Filipino, infuriated by the exasperating slack in the country's development. But despite the frustration, they developed in me a heightened sense of patriotism . F. Sionil Jose’s five-book series, the Rosales saga, gave me a deeper grasp of colonialism, how it robbed the Filipinos of cultural integrity, and a realization where I stand in the immense economic and political divide in my country. 

But there is still some sort of therapy in it. My Filipino soul, broken and lost by years of foreign dominance and the distressing economic quagmire, is eased by F. Sionil’s account of Istak’s bravery in Po-on. I want it transmitted to me, like a viral contagion, so I can stand in valor against what ails my country.

In this case, bibliotherapy serves not only to heal the self, but a broken nationalist spirit as well.