That Homely Touch

So the water is back up and running.  Luckily I remembered to turn the taps off in my room, as one of my colleagues left a couple of his taps on, forgetting that the water was due to reconnect that night.  I can't wait to see his face when the water bill comes through - it might even cost him ten pounds!  (An unthinkable figure considering my last water bill totalled roughly four pounds for the month.)

I've also finally come round to furnishing my apartment a little better.  This trip essentially amounted to buying some kitchen roll, some soap and a cloth to wipe down kitchen surfaces.  The room is already feeling a little too feminine with these additions, so I'm thinking of strategically placing beer cans about the place.

Just to let everyone know, the debate about ghosts has finally been solved:

I managed to capture it unawares and snap it.  Presumably my room will now be haunted.

A small price to pay for gathering irrefutable evidence.

This is the town of Gohyun.  It's the largest on the island, and is pretty much the epicentre of all things Geoje.  It's rained for a couple of days now; it's safe to say we're finally entering the rainy season.  This will continue for a month or so, relentlessly if the foreigners on the island are to be believed.  Personally speaking I don't buy it, as English people often talk about constant rain despite spending only two thirds of our lives sodden.

On a side-note, the rain here is pretty impressive.  When I say it rained all day yesterday and all of today, it really did rain non-stop.  Not half-assed English rain that stops and starts, it really did not stop.  At times it was heavy, at times it was weak; but it never gave up.  Kudos to Korean rain, for making me wet through.

Kudos also to Korean heat, as I never felt cold.  Sure, I weighed an extra five kilogrammes, but not once did I feel cold.

This is Gohyun as seen from the top a local department store.  I say local, but it's the only one on the island.  This may not seem like a big deal to the sane world, but having only one department store per 250,000 people is like English people having a single for the same number of people.

The mere notion of only having one department store makes grown Koreans weep, and is a driving influence for migration away from the island, and towards large cities.

They love department stores here.

The lack of alternative venues mean the youth of the island congregate in the same places every weekend, staking their own spots inside on both Saturday and Sunday; until they leave for the university on the mainland.