To me, an unfamiliar place is one where I have never stayed overnight. A night is a physical passage of time, but it also embodies a sense of inner intimacy. This autumn, I am traveling to Daegu for the first time in my life. Coincidentally, my daily routine in Seoul was in need of a break. However, it had to be a new place to part ways with the writing that simply wouldn't come and with my boring routine. A city I had passed through many times but never stayed in. As I drove along the highway and entered Gyeongsangbuk-do, majestic mountains enveloped me. It was proof that Daegu, situated in a basin, was not far away. I entered the city center immediately, and my eyes lingered among the wide roads and buildings, particularly the charming modern architecture. Just as I passed the tranquil brick building of the old wing of Kyungpook National University Hospital, built in the 1920s, my navigation system signaled my arrival.

At the end of a narrow alley, I gently open the door to Stay Jian , my lodging for today . It is a fairly substantial Hanok built in the 1950s. With its sturdy rafters and pillars standing firm, the house embraces a spacious courtyard. The sight of European vintage furniture placed inside a Hanok from decades ago feels like an exquisite harmony where different eras overlap. Martin Bisser's orange daybed sofa, positioned by the largest window in the living room, and a large lamp traversing a parabolic curve in front of it, beckon me to come and sit. As I reclined and caught my breath while gazing at the high ceiling, I felt momentarily drowsy thanks to the aroma wafting from somewhere and the neat playlist.

I step out into the yard for a moment, sit on a cute camping chair, and savor the early autumn breeze. The warm chatter of neighbors mingles with the chirping of birds, traversing the space. I realize that the true charm of travel lies not merely in seeing, eating, and enjoying things. It is also my own unique pleasure to gauge the host's thoughtful consideration and their vision for the kind of rest they wish their guests to fully enjoy. Sometimes, it is at this very moment that we might find a shared telepathy.

I took a bath late in the evening. Looking out at the courtyard from the large hinoki wood is the highlight of Stay Jian. It might be a time akin to meditation. I filled the tub with hot water, soaked, and gazed only at the darkness, eventually drifting off to sleep. Thanks to that, the next morning arrived early. Long rays of sunlight cast across the pure white bedroom shook me awake. Before I could even fully wake up, a text message rang at 9 a.m.—the notification for the breakfast that was about to arrive. Delivered from a diligent nearby brunch shop, the breakfast reflected the host's thoughtfulness, who had said, "I wanted you to enjoy a warm breakfast." Veggie Ragù Made, a potato bagel, and Ouf à la Coque—a soft-boiled egg spread on bread after being gently tapped. Sitting at the Siz Bragman table and chair, I enjoyed the luxury of starting my day with a breakfast prepared by someone else.

Stay Jian

A Hanok stay located in Samdeok-dong 3-ga. It was named to embody the meaning of "reaching comfort." It is a tranquil and cozy space where guests can rest comfortably, and furthermore, a place enjoyed as a cultural experience.

Alley next to Eunhasu Restaurant, 72-3, Dalgubeol-daero 447-gil, Jung-gu, Daegu

@stay_jian

There are places that grow more endearing the longer you spend time there than the first impression. Stay Jian was no exception. Every object, piece of furniture, atmosphere, and nature here was meant to be savored over time. Having spent a day in Samdeok-dong, Daegu, I felt that this place was no longer just an unfamiliar spot to me. The cafe housed in a renovated old building I encountered during an evening walk, the aroma of pasta wafting from a Japanese-style house, and the scenery of Samdeok-dong that reminded me of the minimalist hair salon I saw in Aoyama, Tokyo, are all things that linger in my mind. Suddenly, I was reminded of the rugged studio located in a textile factory in Leipzig that I visited a few months ago. That was Saxony, while here is a major city in the heart of Gyeongsangbuk-do. Two cities with vastly different coordinates and contexts, and me standing between them. They are identical in that they represent "here and there," where one spends a night of the unconscious, greets a vivid morning, and writes a short essay of one's own within one's heart .

Park Sun-young

Park Sun-young studied art theory at the Korea National University of Arts and has consistently written about art, design, architecture, and travel. She began her career as a columnist in 2008 while on a leave of absence as a graduate student living in Paris; she personally recruited and interviewed people she could only meet there, contributing articles to * Harper's BAZAAR Korea *. Since then, she has written for various media outlets, including * VOGUE KOREA * and *Noblesse * , featuring her unique deep perspective and elegant writing style. She also plans exhibitions and events within and outside the realm of culture and art, bringing people together in one place. As a personal lifestyle advisor, she conveys the sensations of the unfamiliar time and space of "travel" through detailed writing that feels like a delicate weaving.