Ahhh Emart, the consumer’s paradise: an L.E.D. lit heaven crammed with possible purchases.  Today I took a deep breath and delved into the Labyrinth, in search of baked beans and the holiest of grails – good bread.  Disregarding my recent penchant for oily, sugar-coated donuts from the shop next to school (today the lady put two in a bag on my entry, establishing a newfound ‘regular’ status) I still like my bread sugar free.  And brown.  And baked in a beautiful whole loaf.  All of which I discovered this afternoon, and although the man behind the counter probably didn’t understand ‘hurray’, he got the gist of my jubilation.

Despite the overwhelming amount of rice in circulation, for some reason it often eludes me in Korean supermarkets. For hours I can trawl isles of seaweed and cling-filmed vegetables looking for the gleaming pile of rice which logic tells me must exist, only to be eventually directed to a special rice vortex, inside which even the sales people are made of rice, and people dive into pools of the stuff from huge rice towers.

What else can one find in Emart?  Everything. Or at least, that’s the idea.  It has however, so far failed to produce a coat that I like.  There is an overwhelming predilection here for the puffer jackets that bumpered their way into British fashion during the nineties.  As they make me feel about ten, I have thus far not succumbed to real consideration of such an acquisition. Yet as the water taps outside my classroom start growing icicles, the North Face clones are looking less like human/slug hybrids and more like warm people with sense.

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