Disappointment

On Wednesday, Jessie and I went to Kwangju. She decided that she did want a large back back after all to rbing to Thailand, so we were going shopping. I had bought one a few weeks ago. I researched the product, looked into several different brands, and bought one. Unfortunately, I didn't look into proper sizing, and wound up with one that was quite uncomfortable due to the fact that actually adjusting it so it would sit on my hips meant that it swung around crazily. It just wasn't meant to be that loose.
Luckily, it fit Jessie perfectly, so she bought it from me, and I picked up a brand new, fully adjustable (to North American sizes) backpack. It's pretty great, with the exception of being a little excessive with clips and doo-dads. I'm just wondering how the plane will like it.

After shopping, we were going to go to a restaurant that Jessie had just heard about. She has taken a small job on the side editing the foreigner news in Kwangju, and she edited an article about the grand opening of a new restaurant, opened by some local expats!
It's called Mike and Dave's Speakeasy. It serves curry dishes, tacos, and sandwiches. Sandwiches! Can you imagine such a thing?!?! Oh, what a delight that would be. Also, they promote their place as being somewhere where "The music is on at a reasonable volume, it's well lit, there is not a couch in sight, you can comfortably order in your native tongue without hand gestures, and where no strange ingredients will be found, like eggs on pizza or honey on fish" (okay, not a direct quote, but pretty close, describing basically the opposite of every Korean establishment). We were both really excited, and I was freaking out over the possibility of humus being only an hour and twenty minute drive away.
But when we got there, the restaurant was nowhere to be found! No signs, no nothing! And absolutely no staircase where they said it was, that led where they said it should! We went up one that led to a locked door, and another that just took us up one of the most urine-soaked stairwells I have ever known (And Lordy, I've known some doozies!).
We tried to find it for about twenty minutes, but we only knew the english name, not the Korean name, so Koreans were no help to us.
We finally wound up heading to the pizza and pasta place we went to the day of the GIC tour. Well, we sat at our dimly lit table, and even though we could easily have pointed to things on the menu, they had to send over a special waitress who spoke english, which at least saved us from the wild gesturing. We sat on couches, and were served a fruit salad with a bizarre yellow cream dressing covering it all, and that was followed by pizza with eggs and yellow sauce on it.

At least the music was not on too loud.