Leaving the hotel, I asked the taxi driver to stop at kwangali for some beer and cocktails at the old ex-pat bar, but it’s gone. The norae-bang singing room is still there, so we have some Heinekens, and go get sogalbi from the little restaurant where I once had to pretend I was five to ask where the toilet was!
Another taxi driver takes us further down the coast, past a dead scooter driver lying unbothered by the kerb, before we join the motorway overpass to Gim-Hae airport.
We drink our last cans of Cass outside the airport before being moved on by machine gun wielding policemen. Home time!