The View From the Afternoon

With a bit of a hangover and yet another gloomy day outside, I was not feeling very inspired today, and as the afternoon turned slowly into evening, I resigned myself to accepting a blip free day.

I'd previously being chatting on skype with a Canadian friend, an outdoorsy type with about as much get-up-and-go as it's possible for one man to have. The chat made me feel pretty guilty for being so lazy, and when I chatted later to another friend on facebook (yet another active Canadian), and he told my how good his mind and body felt after his afternoon trail run, I decided enough was enough.
I dusted off my running shoes, which were surely surprised to be seeing action this side of spring, grabbed my camera, and headed out the door.

My friend had mentioned how great the city lights looked from up on the mountain, so I decided to head for a small observation point that sits on the side of a mountain trail not too far from my house. I'd seen it from a distance many a time, but never actually checked it out.

To my surprise, even running uphill felt pretty good, and even the rain beginning to fall didn't dampen my spirits. I followed the empty, winding road up the mountain, and before I knew it I'd arrived at my destination.
As it turned out, the observation point was in fact a kind of bar-come-coffee-shop. I couldn't really see a main entrance, so I climbed some old-looking concrete steps to the side of the building.
As I opened the rickety door at the top, it revealed a kind of lounge area with sofas and tables, an old-fashioned stove keeping the place warm. Now this may sound impressive, but the whole place was a tad on the crappy side, with the air of a place that may crumble down the side of the mountain at any moment.
Like so many similar establishments in Korea though, therein lied its charm.

Worryingly however, the room was totally enclosed and so the great views of the city below imposible to photograph through reflections in the glass.
I then noticed some dark stone stairs leading upwards to my left. I began to climb.
It was so dark in the stairwell that I couldn't see my feet, but could catch glimpses of the steep mountain drops below through the stairwells many gaps and tiny windows - and whilst I love a good view, heights are not really my thing. I was feeling a little nervous.

I reached a door at the top of the stairs, but it revealed itself to be locked. A tiny window to the side though, showed a patio area that is likely used only in summer - and with it, a stunning glass-free view of the city lights below.
I slid it open and realised I may be able to squeeze through onto the roof, but could tell that coming back that way onto the dark, steep stairs would be imposssible. If i climbed through the window and then couldn't unlock the door from the other side, I would be embarassingly trapped on the roof.

The majority of doors in Korea have a knob that you lock with a key, but that you can unlock from the inside just with a turn of the handle. By pressing a small button on the knob before you leave, you can lock the door again on your way out, no key required.
I scrambled head first through the window.

A more nimble fellow would no doubt have made light work of it, but a mixture of me being Korea's most inflexible man, and a desire to protect the camera in my hand made it precarious work - and to topple backwards was to fall headlong down the steep, stone stairwell.
I finally made it through though and checked the door - it was indeed unlockable - so I grabbed my shots of the city then sat back to enjoy the peace, quiet, and twinkling lights below. The heavens opened again, but i was safely under a canopy, the sound of the rain around me almost musical as it splashed its way through the trees.

I sat back, relaxed, and thanked heaven for good friends who, in their own subtle way, had inspired me to turn a very boring evening into a pretty special one..


Don't forget to go large for a better view!