Stalin
was a Genius
Ever keen to provoke the "why on earth do you want to go there?" response (Alaska in winter, anyone?), the idea of a visit to the perennially popular Club Med destination that is North Korea was hit upon. What follows is an attempt to supply the incredulous questioner with some incredulous answers.
After visiting Seoul earlier in the year, and having difficulty at times working out whether I'd actually left Tokyo, a compare and contrast visit to the north was even more in order.
The Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK) is not the easiest of places to get to, despite being one of Japan's closest neighbours. In fact, many Japanese people were of the impression that it was impossible to go. This of course only strengthened my resolve. Written material is almost non-existent but after some serious surfing, I managed to collect enough information to book a tour with VNC travel in Holland. An early net find was Paul & Rick Bakker's highly entertaining travelogue. Further logistical information available on request.
However, this being Japan nothing is quite
that simple. On hearing of our intended trip, my office displayed the ugly chip
on its shoulder regarding all things Korean and banned us outright from going,
on the following grounds:
The fact that we were neither Japanese
nationals nor civil servants was irrelevant. The decision had been made and they
weren't about to change a decision and lose face. In fact, the prospect of our
just going anyway was greeted with implicit threats of dismissal. After
consulting with the Ministry of Education, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the
British and Canadian embassies, the Foreign Office in London and sundry other
officials, they were told in no uncertain terms that they couldn't stop us.
Again, the decision had been made and so the only option left for them was the
traditional Japanese head in the sand response.
Pyongyang international airport is only
connected to Beijing, Berlin, Moscow, Macau and Bangkok, so it was back to
Beijing for the second time in a month. A day was spent picking up our Korean
visas and flight tickets, together with the odd bit of sightseeing. A visit to
Beihei park was noteworthy for a couple of English signs:
and the poetic:
The next day we headed back to the airport
for our luxury Air Koryo flight to Pyongyang. An indication of things to come
was the way the check-in desk was separated from all the others and their use of
pen and carbon paper rather than computers to check us in. In the waiting lounge
there were a large number of sharply dressed businessmen carrying flowers and
sporting unusual lapel pins. There were a handful of other foreigners, who all
later turned out to be working for aid organisations, with the exception of one
other tourist from Sweden. Interestingly, Sweden is one of the very few
non-pariah countries to have any kind of diplomatic presence in NK.
After driving for what seemed like 25
miles down the runway we eventually came to our antiquated Ilyushin in a
secluded corner of the airport. On boarding we were greeted with our first
barrage of the uplifting patriotic songs that we were to hear everywhere.
Partaking of the Pyongyang Times
handed out on the plane gave us our first glimpse of the current state of
affairs. Naturally enough there were no stories of starving children, nuclear
arms build-ups or the kidnapping of Japanese schoolgirls. In fact, it was
exactly the opposite of the hysterical mud slinging and rumour mongering to be
found in the Japanese press. From a technical point of view, the paper was a
masterpiece - the English was beautiful (no Japlish here) but the content
was slightly suspect:
One has to wonder who this paper is
produced for, given the extremely small number of English-speaking visitors.
Also, the subjects are not exactly what you get in the standard Berlitz
phrasebook. Where do they learn these things?
On arrival at Pyongyang, our guide was
nowhere to be seen. Our Swedish travelling companion's guide informed us that
our guide was expecting us to arrive by train and was waiting for us at the
station. This would have been an ideal opportunity to escape the clutches of our
tour but we probably wouldn't have got very far.
All visitors to NK must go on a package
tour and be accompanied by a guide, just in case you get lost or feel the urge
to meet the locals. Our specially arranged tour consisted of two people - myself
and my colleague Jeff from Canada. In addition to this we had two guides (Mr. Li
and Mr. Kim), a driver (Mr. La) and our own Volvo. Our man from Sweden, who we
were to dub Sven, also had two guides, a driver and a Volvo (which must have
made him feel at home). Nothing like a bit of job creation. Mind you, with less
than 5 western visitors per week, a shortage of guides is never going to be an
issue.
Like all foreigners, we were put up in the
deluxe grade Koryo hotel, a "twin tower style tall building" where we
could marvel at the 45th floor "revolving restaurant with a wide
prospect". Our room was equipped with a TV with 10 channel buttons to
press. I may have been doing something wrong, but they all seemed to be tuned to
the same channel - revolutionary songs followed by a woman literally shouting
the news and extolling the virtues of the Great Leader.
After dinner, the guides somehow got the
idea that we were alcoholics who'd only come for the cheap beer and so we had
little difficulty in persuading them to take us to a couple of local bars (the
option of going shooting somehow became "unavailable"). Getting the
guides drunk and separating them from each other and the Party line provided few
revelations, other than an admission that the food situation is very bad and a
strong denial that anyone had died. Too strong a denial.
The next day, after a brief tour of
Pyongyang (including Kim Il Sung square, complete with posters of Marx and
Lenin, and Kim Il Sung stadium, capacity 100000), we hit the road in our Volvo
for the 38th parallel and the border with the puppet stooges in the
south.
The Reunification Highway was almost
deserted. With only 2% of the population owning their own cars, we had the thing
almost to ourselves and so it was easy to put the foot down. The long straights
were ideal for Mr. La's driving style of maximum coasting and minimum gear
changing. When asked about the speed limit, our trusty guide informed us that no
cars meant no speed limit. What cars there were, drove on the right; however,
depending on the car's country of origin, there were both left and right-hand
drive cars. Questions on the possibility of renting a car were met with
quizzical looks, as if to say "What a quaint concept. Don't think it'll
take off here though".
Pyongyang is blessed with a metro and
buses (for which people form such orderly queues). However, the main form of
transport elsewhere seemed to be the shoe. At all times of the day, many people
could be seen walking along the roadside and the Reunification Highway was no
exception. Apparently, bikes were "not popular" before and these days
pricing them at $300 is a very effective way of ensuring that NK doesn't become
terribly unsightly à la China. Our guides informed us that the typical North
Korean spends 8 hours a day working, 8 hours sleeping and 8 hours studying. Not
entirely sure where eating and all that walking fits in.
In the towns the sparse traffic is
directed by uniformed people (usually women) with a baton. Their directing is
customised to the traffic present - if a car approaches she will wave it
through. In the rare event that two or more cars are present at the same time,
some kind of decision has to be made. This involves signalling to one car,
swivelling around and signalling to the others. This swivelling was a crisply
mechanical process involving goose-stepping knees and jerky baton movements.
Extremely entertaining to behold.
Before reaching Panmunjon and the
demilitarised zone (DMZ), we stopped in Kaeson for lunch. Our tourist-only
restaurant served up a traditional Korean meal consisting of 15 saucer-sized
dishes each containing a different delicacy, washed down with Ginseng
wine/unrefined meths.
Passing the "Seoul 70km" sign
and entering the DMZ is one of the more surreal experiences that anyone can hope
to encounter. We passed through fields full of dutiful workers toiling to the
sound of martial music being blasted from massive speakers. Interestingly, these
fields actually had some crops in them, unlike the ones we had passed on the
journey from Pyongyang, which only seemed to offer mud for cultivation. We were
stopped at a checkpoint and given a presentation on the DMZ. The room had a
scale model of the border and, of course, pictures of the Great and Dear
Leaders. There was also a map of the Korean peninsula, showing a virgin white
north and a missile and tank infested south.
Then it was through some more barbed wire
fences to the border itself. We were taken to the hut where the armistice
agreement was signed, complete with the "original" flags in glass
cases. However, the oxidising qualities of the two cases seemed to be somewhat
different, since the UN flag was extremely tattered and the DPRK flag looked
brand new.
As we stepped out of the building nearest
the border, several south Korean soldiers on the other side rushed out to look
at us through binoculars and take our photos. We then went into one of the huts
straddling the border. Walking around the hut we could actually cross the
border. The duty free shop didn't seem to be open yet. Meanwhile the South
Korean boneheads were staring through the windows at us, trying to look
intimidating. Outside the hut we were treated to a show of imperialist
aggression in the form of an American helicopter flying right up to the border
and taking yet more pictures of us. It seems a pity that island nations are
robbed of the opportunity to put on such shows for visitors.
The next day was May Day. We were hoping for a parade with tanks, missiles,
red flags and thousands of children doing gymnastics. However, it wasn't to be.
No one knew of any events, with the exception of possible "dance
parties". We were, of course, extremely keen to go to such scenes of
decadent songs and behaviours but the guides were somehow unable to track any
down. In the event, we had a tour of Pyongyang and its many monuments.
First
off, it was the Great Monument on Mansu hill. This is one of the most sacred
places in NK and we were instructed to act in accordance with this fact. It
consists of a massive bronze statue of the Great Leader in classic
Lenin-hailing-a-taxi pose. We were firmly requested to buy some flowers to lay
at the foot of the monument and bow reverently. Also, we were told that we were
only allowed to take photos of the complete statue. Cutting off the great man's
legs or, heaven forbid, his head were definite no-nos. In fact, when I tried to
take a photo from close range, they couldn't believe that I could get the whole
thing in my shot and asked to look through the viewfinder to make sure.
In lieu of massed parades, we went to the
funfair. Being May Day, the joyous masses were out in force. From this sample,
and from those people we saw later, it was impossible to tell if the country was
on the verge of starvation. Certainly, there were large numbers of grubby
looking kids, but then you get them in any country. Also, this would have been a
good opportunity to actually meet some of the locals. However, after they'd got
over their initial shock of seeing a foreigner, they would either gawp
incredulously (Japanese and even Chinese starers have a lot to learn) or run
away. Most of them seemed too scared to talk to us and I'm not sure I want to
contemplate the consequences of starting a conversation with one of them would
be. The only exception was the occasional small child who would say
"hello" back to us.
After the wonders of the funfair, it was
destination metro. Just like Moscow, each station is exquisitely decorated with
marble columns, chandeliers and murals. Extra Korean touches include the
mandatory revolutionary piped music and, of course, pictures of the Great and
Dear Leaders in each carriage. At least that's what it looked like, as the
carriages were so dim that it was impossible to read a newspaper.
Next was the Great Leader's birthplace in
Mangyongdae. Again, the masses were out in force. What better way to spend your
May Day than by visiting an old house with thousands of other soldiers. Being
VIP foreigners, we were rushed to the front of the queue and given a special
tour, while everyone else was herded through like cattle.
It was around this time that the guides
started to give out some curious answers to our questions:
On Stalin
"Stalin was a genius. He led Russia
to victory in the war and so was a great man. Some foreigners have told us that
he did some bad things but we cannot really be sure of this." It was
interesting to see the different responses that resulted from different
questioning techniques. For example, the above response came from the very open
"what do you think of Stalin?", whereas Sven's "Stalin was really
a nasty piece of work and how can you associate with such a brute?"
produced a much more defensive response along the lines of "how can you
really be sure that he killed a million people?"
On missiles
"Of course we don't have any nuclear
of chemical weapons. However, we do have some very powerful conventional
weapons, capable of reaching the US. If you want war, come and get it - we're
ready."
On Japan
"The Japanese government has
recognised its mistakes and has apologised."
On South Korea
"The South Korean government wants
the US troops to stay because of the threat of attack but the US wants to
leave."
On Hwang Jang Yop
"Traitors are free to leave any time
they want."
"Many people defect from the south to
the north."
On German reunification
"That's what we want but not in the
same way i.e. the absorption of East Germany."
In general, we were able to ask them
anything. Their English was excellent, especially in the area of phrases like
"imperialist aggression", "anti-Japanese armed struggle" and
"South Korean puppet stooges". In fact, given the bombardment of
questions, their answering was very impressive. I only have to think of all the
strange questions that Japanese people ask me to be amazed. Mr. Li had a
disquieting way of replying "of course, why not?" when asked questions
such as "are you a member of the party?" or "do you tell Japanese
people the same things?"
After lunch, the architectural showpieces,
the Tower of the Juche Idea and the Arch of Triumph were ours to inspect. At the
Juche tower we inquired about the system of Juche. It is usually translated as
"self-reliance" in English, which leads to the impression that NK is
an isolationist country, striving to survive without outside interference.
However, the availability of foreign cars and products set us wondering. The
guides informed us that it actually means "self-determination i.e. everyone
is free to do what they want". Within certain limits, of course.....
Our evening's entertainment was a visit to
the world-famous Pyongyang circus, complete with a real live orchestra, trapeze
artistes and fighting cocks. There were also performing bears, which were either
small people in bearsuits or extremely well trained/tortured animals - their
actions were incredibly human-like.
After dinner, we managed to head out on
our own for a stroll around Pyongyang by night. The eerily quiet (and dark)
streets didn't proffer any dancing parties but the aforementioned monuments were
floodlit for our enjoyment. The lights in Kim Il Sung square were particularly
impressive. We walked up to Mansu hill to pay our respects to the Great Leader
again (although we didn't have any flowers this time). The place was deserted
with the exception of some cleaners and the sombre music. We thought it best to
bow, just in case our guides should hear of any disrespectful behaviour on our
part.
The next day found us driving north
towards mount Myohyang and the International Friendship Exhibition (IFE). This
is the building used to house the presents that the Great Leader (and to a
lesser extent, the Dear Leader) have received from various people around the
world. The place is organised by country - there were two rooms of presents from
Japan, two cases from Britain and a paltry half a case from Canada. The presents
from "western" countries were mainly from trading companies and
individuals with the occasional communist party contribution and generally they
were the likes of plates and other sundry ornaments. According to Sven the
labels on the Swedish presents were full of spelling mistakes. Some things are
important in life, after all.....
However, the presents from Japan and
elsewhere were a bit of an eye-opener. Apparently it wasn't OK for "civil
servants" like Jeff and myself to visit NK but it was OK for prime
ministers, cabinet ministers and politicians. Needless to say, we were
completely blown away by the presence of gifts from the mayor of Nagano city and
the governor of Nagano prefecture. But then who are we to question the whys and
wherefores of Japanese bureaucracy?
The presents from "nasty"
countries included bullet-proof limos from Stalin, a bullet-proof train carriage
from Mao, a bear shot by Ceaucescu (presumably not bullet-proof), machine guns
from countries such as Syria, Cuba and Iraq (but, surprisingly, none from
Angola). Everyone's favourite despot was represented, from Gaddafi to Honecker
to Khomeni to Che to Castro. Some of the exhibits were slightly less than PC -
ivory from Africa and rhino horns from Somalia being particular examples.
The exhibition also had a marble statue of
the Great Leader sitting in a large armchair, in a similar style to Lincoln and
Mao in their respective memorials. What is it about these people that makes them
like this pose so much? I suppose you might need a rest after hailing a taxi all
day. Of course, we were required to bow to the armchair. Also, in an extra
special room, there was a life-size waxwork of the man himself, presented by the
Chinese on the second anniversary of his death. Respect, sombre music and deep
bowing were the order of the day.
Lunch in the Hyangsan hotel was followed
by some souvenir shopping in the hotel shop. Aside from the usual postcards and
collected works of the Great Leader, they did a fine line in badges and stamps.
We were keen to buy the GL badges we had first seen at Beijing airport and
subsequently on every jacket in the land. However, we were informed that these
badges were very special and are only given to people with a genuine interest in
the Juche system. Furthermore, this privilege could only be granted after
applying in writing to the government, stating your case and getting it
approved. Not feeling capable of fulfilling these requirements, we settled for
some peace and NK flag badges.
The stamps were even more bizarre. There
were the predictable socialist realism type, depicting red tractors, victorious
soldiers and belching factories. Then there were the ones marking DPRK events
such as the international seminar on the Juche idea, the month of anti-US joint
struggle, the 50th anniversary of the founding of the Korean People's
Army, and the world conference of journalists against imperialism and for
friendship and peace. Then again there were the ones commemorating international
events that would appear to have very little to do with Korea. For example, its
connection to the royal wedding, princess Di's 21st birthday and the
150th anniversary of the founding of the Liverpool to Manchester
railway escapes me for the present.
The level of connection to the real world
seemed to be very selective. The above events had filtered through but other
invasions of self-determination such as McDonald's (or any other form of fast
food, for that matter), Dickens or even the Beatles had yet to materialise. Yes,
incredibly, when I asked about the Beatles and had to explain, all I got was
blank looks, similar to those that greeted the car hire concept. Even the clichéd
international reference point that is Bobby Charlton made no impression.
Shakespeare had somehow made it but revolutionary thinkers such as Thomas Payne
and David Hulme somehow hadn't.
Upon arrival we had asked to be taken to a
school, with the hope of seeing some foreign language instruction in action (we
were keen to see how they learnt how to pronounce "imperialist
aggressor" so well). Also, there might have been a chance of actually
meeting some real people. However, in the end we were taken to the Children's
Palace in Pyongyang. We had read about this place in the Bakker report and knew
what to expect i.e. not a real school. This is the place where children can go
after normal school to "practice things they are interested in" (read:
"where they are forced to go to perform for hoards of Chinese
tourists").
We were to witness small children playing
accordions and mandolins with forced smiles on their faces and calligraphy
classes where the students practised writing "the leader is always with
us". We also had a tour of the computer room, where they were programming
in BASIC. Actually, the equipment wasn't all that primitive - DOS and colour
screens were prevalent. I had begun to wonder at the level of computer literacy
when I was asked "how did you communicate with the travel agent in
Holland?" I responded "by e-mail" to which the response was
"oh, I see, by mail". This image was further reinforced when I asked
about the internet. The guide said that, of course (why not), they had the
internet in NK but "it is not for individual use" - only government
officials can get access.
After touring some classrooms
(unfortunately, the students studying English weren't being publicly tortured
that day), we watched a play put on by the kids. There were boys dressed as
soldiers toting guns and plenty of revolutionary metaphors and imagery. The
off-duty students were also watching. They were forced to clap at apt moments by
vigilant teachers. Interestingly, the two guides that were with us that day
displayed very different levels of enthusiasm - one of them clapped vigorously
at every opportunity while the other made token gestures every now and then.
Our last day was supposed to be a visit to
the Pyongyang film studio, where they make all their best anti-Japanese films.
However, it was closed because of the May Day holiday. Instead, we were taken to
the revolutionary martyrs' cemetery. This is the resting-place of 118 martyrs
who died in the anti-Japanese armed struggle (with space for more as they die
off). On the way back, I casually asked "what's that building over
there?", only to be told that it was the Kum Su San Memorial Palace, where
the Great Leader is lying in state. Apparently special permission is required to
visit it but we were devastated to find out just as we were leaving. Looks like
I'll have to go back to complete my collection of pickled oppressors.
For the return to Beijing, we opted for
the 25-hour train journey. For some reason we were upgraded from hard sleeper to
soft sleeper. Our compartment was also occupied by some Chinese businessmen
intent on smoking despite being in a no smoking compartment with no ashtray and
being requested to stop several times. Their response to this was to invite
their friends for a card session. A trip to the dining car took us through hard
seat and all its attendant masses, discarded food and phlegm.
At one station there was another train
going in the other direction. It was one of the most amazing sights I've ever
seen and not one I'll easily forget. Basically it was packed beyond all
comprehension - there were no windows so there were people hanging out of the
holes, there were people on the roof (this was an electric train!), between the
carriages, in the doorways and even under the doors (on the steps). It was
raining so the people on the roof and at the windows had covered themselves with
plastic sheeting, although it wasn't doing much good as everyone was really
grimy. Spotting two weirdo foreigners in the adjacent train, some of them
started to wave at us. In the midst of all this depravation and hardship there
was one girl with an ivory white smile and shining eyes truly happy to see us. A
very special moment.
After 3 1/2 hours at the border we were
back in China. As with entering the DPRK, our luggage wasn't even opened. The
contrast between the mud fields south of the border and the green fields of
China was very apparent. One aid worker that we met told us that the NK system
of farming is more to blame than the floods for the food situation. Apparently,
they want two crops a year and the system isn't flexible enough to cope with
unexpected flooding. All of the people working in the DPRK (aid workers and
embassy staff) said that it was extremely difficult to get to see affected areas
or even to talk to the locals about it.
A final day in Beijing was spent shopping
and sightseeing. A quick stop in the Australian kebab restaurant in Tiananmen
square yielded yet another priceless piece of English - upon receiving my food,
I was instructed "please like"! On the return flight we were upgraded
to business - Champagne and Chablis all round. The ginseng wine seemed to be out
of stock. Of course, why not?
Some
DPRK links
