Director Hwang Doo-jin, an architect and writer who views history through architecture, boards Daegu's yellow city railway to present four articles. He intends to take a comprehensive look at this tranquil and rational city, covering everything from its topographical heritage and the origins of its name to modern architecture and the systems that shaped its present appearance.

"Daegu? It's neat, isn't it!"

I took the KTX, got off at Seodaegu Station—which had only recently opened—and hailed a taxi. A good way to get a feel for an unfamiliar city is to strike up a conversation with the taxi driver. When I remarked, “The streets seem unusually clean,” I received an immediate reply. He added that, having moved here from out of town, he felt there was no place as well-organized and clean as Daegu. Although I travel to various cities across the country for work and field research, I shared a similar sentiment. It goes beyond simply being well-cleaned; perhaps it is a sense of the city itself being settled and calm. If I had to pick the single city in South Korea that gives the most tranquil feeling, it would likely be Daegu. While Seoul and Busan are often places where all sorts of aesthetics coexist in abstruse ways, Daegu gives the impression that only a select few have been chosen. In particular, newly constructed buildings, whether large or small, are neat and serene as if by agreement, and their architectural forms are generally not excessive. It is rare to experience such a feeling in South Korea, a nation of hybridity and contrast. Since I was in college, Daegu has been famous for its many cozy and atmospheric cafes, and that reputation has not faded even now. Not only in the old downtown area like Dongseong-ro, but also in the alleys of Daebong-dong and Suseong-dong, small cafes and restaurants with an atmosphere similar to that of a neatly dressed person setting out on the street are hidden here and there.

The buildings in Daegu are neat and calm, as if by agreement, and

Generally, the architectural design is not excessive.

It is rare to feel this way in South Korea, a country of hybridity and contrast.

The boredom on the surface and the rationality beneath

One might call it two sides of the same coin. Among architecture and urban experts, Daegu is often cited as a place that lacks particularly interesting modern architecture relative to its size and reputation. In fact, if asked what the representative landmark architecture of Daegu is, it is not easy to think of a suitable candidate. Consequently, along with Daejeon, Daegu frequently ranks in the dishonorable tier of being the nation's most "boring cities." However, Daegu is a city where thorough rationality stands firm beneath this superficial blandness. Its urban structure is easy to grasp, and it is not difficult for outsiders to get around. To take the train stations alone, starting with the aforementioned Seodaegu Station, there are Daegu Station and Dongdaegu Station in succession. Train stations with names that are instantly understandable are situated precisely in their locations. The names of the major roads in the old city center follow the same principle. After the Daegu town fortress was demolished in the early 20th century, new roads were built along its site, named Dongseong-ro, Namseong-ro, Seoseong-ro, and Bukseong-ro. Perhaps someone at the time wanted to give them cool names imbued with profound meaning. However, Daegu's choice was simply East, West, South, and North—simple to the point of being disappointing. And the result is friendly clarity and tremendous public convenience.

Someone might have wanted to give it a cool name with a profound meaning.

However, Daegu's choice is simply East, West, South, North,

It was dishearteningly simple.

Another example highlighting Daegu's rationality is Dongdaegu Station, which ranks second in the nation for passenger volume. Dongdaegu Station differs from other train stations we commonly encounter in two ways. First, it is an above-ground station; that is, the railway tracks are located at ground level, with the station building constructed atop them. Up to this point, there is nothing particularly special. However, once you step out of the station, you meet the city level without any elevation difference. This is a stark contrast to Seoul Station or Busan Station, where one must descend a long flight of stairs from the waiting room to reach the ground level. This is because the east and west facades of Dongdaegu Station are roads and plazas constructed as ramps extending from a distance. They are even named the Dongdaegu Station Overpass and the Dongdaegu Station East Overpass. Thanks to a design that allows vehicles to overcome elevation differences, pedestrians find it incredibly convenient. While the cross-section resembles Ueno Station in Tokyo or Dalian Station in Manchuria, which was modeled after it, Dongdaegu Station represents a much more urban and proactive solution. Consequently, Dongdaegu Station does not feel intimidating at all when viewed from a pedestrian's perspective.

When you come out of Dongdaegu Station

It meets the city horizontally without any elevation difference.

Thanks to the car being designed to overcome the gap

It is incredibly convenient for pedestrians.

Another distinctive feature of Dongdaegu Station is its orientation. Typically, train stations have exits perpendicular to the tracks. The structure connects the two sides of the city that are separated by the railway. Therefore, we are accustomed to turning perpendicular to the train's direction of travel from the waiting room to exit the station to the sides. Dongdaegu Station is a bit different. The waiting room is located one level up from the platform, and the front and back exits run in the same direction as the tracks. As mentioned above, you simply move horizontally to exit the station and then proceed toward the city in your desired direction from the east-west station plaza. The pedestrian flow at Dongdaegu Station follows the same direction as the train's movement. While it may be slightly confusing at first, once you get used to it, it is so convenient that you might wonder why other stations aren't built this way. It likely took countless meetings and discussions to complete Dongdaegu Station with this structure. Of course, there must have been considerable opposition to such an endeavor. Although I do not know how the final decision was reached, those involved in the process have effectively given a tremendous gift to the many citizens who use Dongdaegu Station. Not long ago, a new comprehensive bus terminal was built adjacent to the station, and it is difficult to find such excellent public transportation connectivity in a city the size of Daegu. In the case of Seoul Station or Busan Station, one has to cross the city quite a distance to catch an express bus. This is precisely where Daegu, the city of tranquility and rationality, stands out once again. Is it too much to hope that this approach will extend beyond Daegu and become a universal urban standard for South Korea?

Illustration | The entrance to Dongdaegu Station, where the roadway rises with a gentle slope from a distance to meet the pedestrian entrance at the same height. Passengers encounter the city directly without having to descend long stairs. This illustration was created based on a photograph sent by Director Hwang Doo-jin.

**External contributions to the Editorial Department are intended to provide a multifaceted perspective on local culture and industry and may differ from the views of the Editorial Department.

Hwang Doo-jin

Hwang Doo-jin is an architect and a writer who records history and society through the medium of architecture. He majored in architecture at Seoul National University and Yale University and opened his own office in 2000. Starting in Seoul's old city center, he has expanded his scope of activity both in Korea and abroad through his works, lectures, and exhibitions. He has received awards such as the Seoul Architecture Award and the Architectural History Society Award. His representative works include the Castle of Skywalkers, One & One 63.5, Chunwondang Oriental Medicine Hospital and Museum, the Korean Pavilion at the East Asian Museum in Sweden, and a series of Hanok projects. One can carefully examine his perspective in his seven books, including *Rainbow Rice Cake Architecture* and *Where Is Your Seoul?*.