Laurie Johns Weblog

My sink looks like porcelain, it is actually made of plastic. The linoleum glued (you can see the waves and indentations under the surface) floor is meant to simulate wood. The massive cabinet of partical board and simulated wood surface is so cheap that I can glide it, full or empty, across the floor. The bathroom smells of wet plaster and the only smells that enter through the window are cigarette smoke or smoldering materials that should be illegal to burn.

At odd times of the day a voice is projected over a loudspeaker in the center of town, like big brother.

It’s not Marin that’s for sure and much to my surprise not even 1/8 as wonderful as home. The irony of spending $15,000 on a bathroom at home and trying to pay for it here could make me laugh, if I had any sense of humor now. I think I would opt for a shack with a dirt floor and spiders because at least I would be in nature. If I could drive my Subaru home from here I would. You all keep telling me ”it’s not so bad” and “you’ll get used to it,” but, honestly, I hope I never do. I am not embarrassed to admit that I need beautifully crafted things around me made from wood and stone and human hands, or real stones and trees and things that smell of them. Every store is like the dollar store and I feel like I have stepped into a weekend carnival in the parking lot of the IGA where no vendor speaks my language or possesses anything I need. I dont even have sheets for my bed and there is no place here to buy them.

Cotton bedsheets (with legs intertwined?) would help. What I need most are  books to escape this reality (I’ve published a link to my address)  and to start my job so that I have a purpose beyond inhaling the stench of my surroundings and then wallowing in it.

Feeling sad in LA

I didnt expect to love it here. but I didnt exactly expect to dislike it so much either. Upon arrival, I was whisked off by my co-teacher, Miss Kim (She is very nice), to the hospital in Gwanju for blood and urine tests. We then visited a bank and so the school could make deposits into my account, she has taken my bank book and not returned it. Today she is picking me up from my apartment in Okgwa (which incidentally shares the same number as my house in Vermillion, though I have no idea what street it is on as there are no street signs) and she is taking me to Gwanju for something officious as she requested I bring my passport, green card, I imagine. The apartment isnt horrible, but it offends me often with its cheap materials and tacky textures. Already I’ve stubbed my toe (it is completely black and blue) and scraped my arm on the rough particle board surface of the end of the door. Nothing is really nice or well made. Here are some photos:

view from kitchen window

living space

bathroom

kitchen

table and washing machine (LG)

My first trip to the grocery store was not productive. I left with almost nothing feeling defeated. After sleep, I tried it again this time forcing myself to buy some familiar items which I went home and cooked. It looked like this and because I purchased no spices tasted the same, blurry.

blurry rice stirfry

I remembered that someone had sent me a contact in Okgwa, so I sent him an email and he took me to dinner to a korean bbq last evening. Sam, from New Zealand, is the high school English teacher in this town. He has a degree in Korean history, speaks the language and came with his Korean girlfriend two years ago. He doesnt much care for foreigners (prefers Koreans) and says they find him too Korean. I think he is an arrogant snot, but I am glad to have an English speaking contact here in Okgwa. He also paid for dinner and took me on tour of the grocery store which was immensely appreciated.

Keeping my heart above my head

location of Okgwa