Off to the pub

I'm up even earlier today, around 10.

Andrew has been up since 8. He did sleep pretty well all of yesterday. He's looking much perkier.

I grab hold of the chambermaid and ask her to clean my room. Hopefully, that will help. To try to make sure, I hang around in the kids' room again.

Me and Alexei go to a convenience store. But they have no sandwiches. Maybe that's because of the public holiday yesterday. We try another shop - they're every 100 yards or so - which has one sad, lone sandwich. That'll divvy up well between three. Just as well Andrew has the appetite of an anorexic ant.

Back in the hotel, I bump into the housemaid and she says something while pointing at a bag of rubbish. Probably about how much of it there was in my room. After a couple of days of drinking with the kids there, it was like the aftermath of a student party.  Empty bottles and cans everywhere. My guess is: three or four bin bags full.

After a bit of lounging, drinking and watching Youtube in the kids' room, we decide to go to the craft beer pub.

“What’s the pub called, Lexxie?”

“The Goethe and Baby. “

“The what? What sort of name is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“They’re just random words again. Like those shops the other day. “

“I suppose so, Dad. But I really couldn’t give a shit.”

The pub is out at the beach, where we were the other day. Meaning we need to get a taxi.

Outside it's raining more heavily. Which may explain why Lexxie is struggling to find a cab. What to do?

"Why don't we go the chicken place we went to the other night?" Lexxie suggests.

"Sounds like a plan." It's just around the corner. And I’m a lazy git. There we traipse.

It’s pretty empty again. Which is fine by me. I don’t need crowds of other people to feel justified in my choice of restaurant.

Fortunately, the menu has pictures. It makes ordering less of a leap into the unknown.

“It takes the thrill out of ordering.”

“What, Dad?”

“Having pictures. It removes the excitement. The thrill of the unknown.”

“Dad, don’t be stupid. It makes sure you don’t order crap you hate.”

“Or stuff you didn’t realise you loved.”

“You’re so full of crap.”

We boringly order a mixed platter to share: fried chicken, prawns, chips and roast spuds. Along with some salad.

“That’s very South American?”

“What?”

“The dual carbs.”

“Shut up about Brazil, Dad.”

The kids order a 3-litre pitcher of Cass. While I get a bottle of soju. I’m going to miss it when I’m back in Amsterdam. I wonder if Ton Overmars sells any?

The platter comes with three colours of sauce: red, yellow and brown. A bit like the Belgian flag. The red one is pretty spicy. Which isn’t much of a surprise.

It's about exactly the right amount of food. We pick away at it. Some of us picking rather more than others. About 60%, 30% and 10%. In the order Alexei, me and Andrew.

Maybe that wasn’t quite enough for all of us. Alexei is still peckish and nips into a shop for more food. Where does he put it all? I suppose he is 2.10 metres tall.

“Are you looking forward to Osaka, Andrew?”

“What? Are you going to Japan?”

“Yes, just for a couple of days on the way back. Didn’t we mention it?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“We’re going to Japan, Alexei.”

“Oh, right. Now you tell me.”

“Sorry about that. We’ll send you some photos.”

I’m such a generous father. No wonder the kids love me so much.

Back at the hotel, feeling a bit knacked, I lie in their bed watching Youtube. After an hour or two my stomach feels bad. Really bad. So bad I return to my room. Fuck. I can do without a fucked stomach.

Sleep is what I need. And what I get.

Goethe and Baby
395H+RG Pohang-si,
Gyeongsangbuk-do.