For the first time while back visiting in South Africa, I miss my bed – my bed in Koreatown, Los Angeles.
It’s not that I’m not happy to be home, and or loving the time off, and the break from the backstabbing, excitement, joy and alienation that is film school… I am so, so grateful. It’s not that I didn’t hope I’d be allowed to go back to the USA every time.
It’s just that moving to Hollywood (of which Koreatown forms a part) was like finding a new home – something that’s been missing from my life for a few years now. I felt the same feeling of sudden belonging when I moved from Vredehoek to Sea Point; like I’d discovered a place where I could be myself, find myself, make myself what I was meant to be. I never much liked Orange. Ah screw that. I really can’t bear Orange. It’s not a bad place. It’s just not for me. Living there is like being smothered with lawn grass – looks great. Makes me want to scratch my face off.
And I left for SA 10 days after I moved into my little bachelor on the corner of two messy streets – half my stuff is still in boxes. It’s weird to think that the bus still stops outside my window every 10 minutes, that my next door neighbor still snores holes in the walls all night, and that life’s going on without me.
So just to touch base and to let the copious roaches know I’m coming to throw them out of their nests real soon, I’m posting these photos I took while getting to know my new neighborhood on foot one rainy day.

There are lots of dog grooming places, called things like this, or my personal favourite: “Puppy Time!”

Boba Time. There are queues outside this joint every Sunday. I use it as my icafe – their internet is fast. The Boba is pretty fine, too.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone reading in a restaurant in Orange – not unless it was the Bible or the Newspaper.

The Latin Quarter borders. Actually the sign on the wall has a giant angel picture. And it says “We are all angels with one wing. We only fly holding each other.”
Tags: koreatown
Leave a Reply