Saturday, 3 November 2012

(Day 106) Seoul Nambu Correctional Facility-day 11 D-145

sit-ups push-ups chairlifts
50 x 4 50 x 4 40 x 5

Breakfast coffee & 2 hard boiled eggs from yesterday's lunch
coleslaw
bread and strawberry jam
Lunch rice & kimchi
hot peppers in sweet sauce
quail eggs and mushrooms
fish cake & onions in hot water
Dinnerrice & radish kimchi
spicy pork
soy bean soup with cabbage

I couldn't sleep last night, so I drew a picture. In the corner of my room, on the ceiling is a concave (convex? Never really sure... ) mirror. It's a quarter of a half sphere or an eighth. I'm pretty sure there's a camera behind it. I heard the servo motor whirring away once. They have a distinct sound. There is the dome of a more obvious camera in the opposite corner, but there is a black square of cloth glued to it, covering the lens, and a small sign written in Korean. I think it says the camera has been disabled, but I'm not sure. Anyway, mirror with the suspected second secret camera... I drew a picture of the reflection. I didn't draw myself in the mirror, just the cell. It turned out pretty good. The natural distortion of the mirror shows the whole, tiny room. What you can't see is the window. It's situated opposite the door, directly under the mirror, so it’s not reflected. Looking at the picture, you might get the misinterpretation that I'm in a windowless cell. I'm not. I actually have a window I can open and get fresh air. I do that sometimes and take deep breaths, smelling the air. There is a very heavy, strong screen on the window. I tried to break it I couldn't. It’s bent out of shape from previous attempts by previous tenants. There are steel bars be on the screen and a courtyard beyond the bars, with a high metal fence. We exercise in a similar looking courtyard. There is another perimeter fence beyond the courtyard and a concrete wall that is at least 10 meters high topped with barbed wire beyond that. Past the wall, I can see trees on the hill side. The leaves are all changing color. I'll watch them disappear and grow in the spring.

The weekend schedule is different. So far, there has been no radio this morning. There are also no items purchased or delivered. Sometimes there is a movie in the afternoon.

I really like Mr. K but he's obviously never been poor. For a Korean, its very unusual for someone his age. He doesn't understand why I don't ask my artist/musician/teacher/unemployed friends to lend me $8000.

“$2000 is nothing” he says. “4 friends could give you $2000, you leave.”

I tell him that I don't know anybody with 200 dollars to spare let alone $2000. He says “friends get loan from bank. Easy.”

I tell him I'm a foreigner, in case looking at my white face and speaking in English made him forget. All my friends are foreigners-- no bank is going to give any of us a loan. Besides, as soon as I get out, I would be deported. How would I pay anybody back? Friend or bank? I'm what is called a bad credit risk. And I already owe enough money to enough friends. I don't need the guilt of $8000 more. I suggested that if money was no big deal, he should give me the money. I think he thought I was serious. He said he couldn't because his assets were frozen.

Apparently our cell block is for VIP prisoners. That’s why Mr. K is here and me too. Since I'm the only foreigner the whole prison. There is supposedly a prison for foreigners. Why I am I here and not there? Mr K says this prison is only for Korean Nationals. Maybe I can thank my e-wife for this.

My pen ran out of ink again. That's the third pen this week. New Pens on Monday.