DVD Bang when a friend sent a text telling us it was snowing in the Seomyeon district of Busan. The movie had nearly finished and sure enough, when we emerged from the dark interior of the building into the darkness which in the interim had descended outside, a fine dusty sprinkling of ice began descending from the heavens. For someone who grew up in the north of England around 800 feet above sea-level, not quite a definition of snow though, and certainly nothing to get particularly excited about. It did try a bit harder later on, and on our way home, shop staff were gathered at windows looking out and marvelling at the occasionally more defined clump of white material fluttering its way towards the ground. I didn't bother trying to take pictures because nothing would have been visible. Still, given that it's apparently been a few years since snow fell in our district of Busan, it was something worth noting to the locals.
The phone buzzed again this morning with a similar message - "it's snowing outside!". Pulling back our opaque apartment windows revealed the same disappointing fine particles of ice blowing down the street outside. But either we'd missed the main event or the weather's persistence paid off, because a couple of hours later the mountains nearby had turned subtly white. But I wouldn't be surprised if this is as bad as winter gets here.
I miss the snow we used to get back home, where you could wake up and discover a couple of feet had been dumped on you overnight, even though these days - probably thanks to global warming - it rains more than it snows in winter. In fact I miss any kind of weather here in Busan - where the winters largely seem to consist of one cold, dry sunny day after another. Is it possible for an Englishman to go mad from the lack of changeable weather? I may find out. Meanwhile the Koreans are still sticking to their four seasons story.
Korean tags: 겨울, 날씨, 눈, 산