Autumn Colors and Quiet Corners in Daejeon

I arrived in Daejeon just as October was beginning to paint the city in shades of gold and crimson. My goal for this short trip wasn't to check off a list of famous landmarks, but to simply wander and see how the city breathes during the autumn transition. I spent two days moving between the stillness of traditional architecture, the openness of the lakeside parks, and the quiet intimacy of local bookstores, capturing the mood of the city through my lens.

Traditional Roofs and Forest Silence

My journey began on the morning of October 9th. I found myself walking through a traditional village where the architecture felt like a bridge to the past. I spent a long time photographing the curved lines of the hanok tiled roofs and the sturdy stone walls that lined the narrow paths. The autumn foliage was just starting to turn, adding splashes of warm color against the grey tiles and weathered stone. There was a profound sense of stillness here, a quietude that made me slow my pace and notice the way the light hit the eaves of the houses.

Later that afternoon, I sought out a different kind of quiet in a mountain garden. The atmosphere shifted from the structured beauty of the village to the wilder, deeper greens of a coniferous forest. I came across a calm pond that acted like a mirror, reflecting the towering evergreen trees surrounding it. The air felt cooler and damper here, smelling of pine needles and wet earth. I sat by the water for a while, watching the ripples move slowly across the surface, feeling completely removed from the urban bustle of the city center.

A Grey Morning by the Lake

I woke up on the 10th to a heavy, overcast sky. Instead of letting the weather deter me, I headed toward the waterfront park. The grey light gave the landscape a soft, muted quality that felt very peaceful. I spent the morning walking along the extensive wooden deck paths that stretched out over the water. I noticed the weeping willows dipping their branches into the lake, their long leaves swaying slightly in the breeze. The contrast of the grey sky against the remaining green of the trees created a moody, contemplative environment that was perfect for a long walk.

As I continued along the boardwalk, I saw other people enjoying the morning, their figures appearing as small silhouettes against the wide expanse of the lake. I took several photos of the way the wooden planks led the eye toward the horizon, reflecting the surrounding greenery in the still water. The path felt like it was floating on the lake, separating the walker from the shore. Even without the sun, the park felt alive, and the rhythmic sound of my footsteps on the timber deck became a sort of meditation as I wandered further into the park.

Books, Calligraphy, and Hilltop Views

By midday, I stepped inside to escape the damp air and found a space that felt like a sanctuary for readers. It was a modern bookstore or library with a very thoughtful interior design. I was immediately drawn to the tiered seating area, where bookshelves were integrated into the architecture, allowing people to lounge and read in a relaxed, open environment. The scent of paper and the hushed tones of the visitors made it a welcoming place to pause. I spent some time browsing the shelves, appreciating how the space encouraged lingering rather than rushing.

While exploring the interior, I came across a piece of calligraphy framed in a simple wooden frame on a white wall. The text read, '흐르고 머무니 사랑이다' (Flowing and staying, it is love). The elegant strokes of the Korean characters captured a sentiment of patience and affection that resonated with the slow pace of my trip. After leaving the bookstore, I climbed a nearby hill to get a better perspective of the area. From the vantage point near the streetlamps, I could see the lake stretching out below me under a sky that was finally beginning to clear, offering a wide view of the city's green lungs.

A Final Feast and a Red-Roofed Farewell

No trip to this region feels complete without a proper meal, and I ended my afternoon with a traditional Korean barbecue spread. I sat down to a table overflowing with small side dishes and fresh, raw vegetables, all centered around sizzling meat. The variety of colors on the table—the bright greens of the lettuce and the deep reds of the kimchi—was a feast for the eyes before the first bite. Eating this meal felt like a celebration of the trip, a hearty conclusion to the physical exertion of the previous hours of walking.

My final stop was a small, charming church that stood out against the blue sky. The building was striking with its bright red roof and clean white walls, topped with a slender spire. It sat in the middle of a well-kept green lawn, looking almost like a painting. I walked around the perimeter of the garden, admiring how the vivid red of the roof popped against the deep blue of the autumn sky. It was a quiet, architectural punctuation mark to my visit, leaving me with a sense of peace as I prepared to leave Daejeon.

Reflections on the Trip

Looking back at my photos, I realize that Daejeon's charm lies in its balance. It isn't a city of loud attractions, but one of quiet transitions—from the traditional to the modern, and from the forest to the waterfront. If I were to do this trip again, I would spend more time in the local bookstores, as that was where I felt the most connected to the city's contemporary intellectual spirit. I also learned that the lakeside parks are just as beautiful under a cloudy sky as they are in the sun, provided you have a comfortable pair of walking shoes and a willingness to embrace the grey.