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Tuesday 2006-09-05 - P’yŏngyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Cucumber salad
On the Air Koryo plane to P’yŏngyang, a small Iljushin (IL 62) with a definite 50’s atmosphere and open overhead luggage racks, we immediately get our usual “homework”: a Health Declaration Card, Customs Declaration, and an Entry/Exit card {“FILL IN CLEARLY IN ROME ALPHABET”). The field “name of delegation” is a little puzzling (we opt for “CNK”, our travel company’s code for this trip) and just leave the field “invited by” blank.
Lunch is nice, with chicken (or beef) in a slightly spicy sauce with sticky white rice, and a delicious side dish of cucumber salad with little strips of fish and sesame seeds sprinkled over it all. I’m immediately addicted to this Korean dish which as it turns out we’ll have many times during out stay in the DPRK.
Getting in is easy
It turns out to be surprisingly easy to get into the country. I had expected we’d have to open all luggage on arrival at the P'yŏngyang airport, but it simply goes through a scanner and we pass through a little gate and are scanned with a hand scanner. "Do you have a phone?" - "No." When my carry-on case goes through the scanner I'm asked: "Do you have a GPS?" - "No." -"Can I see?" - "Sure," and I open my case, suspecting they saw the silhouette of my image tank, which I show to them and explain it's a photo album and for listening to music; they believe me and I don't even have to turn it on. My little bags with cables are no problem either; I also have to open my little camera cleaning kit. And that's it. The security people are friendly and extremely polite as well - a pleasant change from many other border crossings I've done.
We meet our team
Outside the P'yŏngyang airport, our team for the trip is waiting for us: Mr. Pak, an experienced 44-year old guide (he's been doing this for 18 years, since shortly after the country opened up for tourists), Miss Un Hui ("Uni"), 22 years old and still inexperienced but friendly and open, and Mr. Hwang, a very experienced driver.
While we drive to the city, Uni tells us a little about the country: Korea has a population of 80 million in total, of which 20 live in the North. P’yŏngyang has 2.5 million inhabitants, 1.5 million of them in the suburbs. North and South Korea together are really one country, sharing one culture and one language. She gets a little flustered when interrupted with a question, but recovers fast — it’s just the nervousness of meeting a new group of people. Her English is actually very good, though not completely accentless. She tells me that in middle school students can choose between Russian and English as a foreign language. It’s obvious that she enjoys being a guide, though she’s still very much a junior and has been working for only 1.5 years.
On the way to the hotel we stop at the “Arc de Triomphe” — larger than the one in Paris — but I’m afraid I’m more interested in the people I see dancing on the other side of the street, my attention drawn by the sound of traditional instruments. I ask Uni what’s happening; they’re practicing for the Arirang games, she explains, even though it has been postponed because of the flooding. When I ask if we can go have a look, she says she’ll have to ask Mr. Pak; but we end up taking pictures and I even make a small video with my new camera.
On arrival at the Yanggakdo hotel (which I recognize from the satellite picture on Google maps) our passports are collected for registration but Mr. Pak promises we’ll have them back after two days and they’ll take good care of them.
Wednesday 2006-09-06 - P’yŏngyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Greeting the great leader
In Korea, people believe everything starts again after 60 years so at your 60th birthday there is normally a big party. When president Kim Il Sung turned 60 in 1972, obviously there was an extra-big party: for the occasion the Mansudae Grand Monument was erected in P'yŏngyang; it consists of a big copper-colored statue of the president, flanked on on either side by two 50-meter long memorials celebrating the liberation from the nearly 40-year long Japanese occupation. The sculpture is remarkable - not just the stark realism most of us associate with art from communist countries but with an inspired simplicity added to it, especially in the statue of president Kim Il Sung. I'm impressed.
As all tourists here (including North Korean tourists) do, we visit the monument to deposit a bunch of flowers as a tribute from our “delegation” at the Great leader’s feet, stand in a row, and bow. We’re “required” to do this of course, but when in Rome…
Korean culture
Next on our program for today is a visit to the Folklore Museum in P'yŏngyang which turns out to be very interesting. As at every tourist site in North Korea, we get a local guide - a good thing since all the explanatory texts with the well-presented exhibits are in Korean. Many murals, paintings and schematics explain the use of containers, agricultural instruments and fishing gear -- from prehistoric times to the present.
The section on clothing is also very interesting, showing how the traditional style we see now evolved from simple tunics worn over trousers or a long skirt. When a child turns one, it's dressed up in new clothes with rainbow colors, and presented with a table with various toys and implements; what the child chooses to play with (say, a brush) is supposed to predict what the child will grow up to be (a brush would represent an intellectual). This custom is still alive -- the rainbow colors worn on every birthday, not just the first -- and later on we actually see a little boy proudly skipping around dressed up in rainbow colors.
Crossing the bridge
From Folklore Museum we continue our P’yŏngyang city tour by walking to the Taedong river, across the bridge, and then along the other side to the Tower of the Juche Idea (“Ju che” means something like self reliance, the philosophy introduced by the Great Leader Kim Il Sung). The tower, designed by the president himself, forms a remarkable landmark in P’yŏngyang with its 170m height, 20m of which is formed by a flame that at night is lighted and flickers like a candle. Along the river, more people are gathered to practice for the Arirang games — these are playing the People’s Army and fitted out in fake (but realistic) uniforms. When a few of us (me included) go to the top of the tower (by elevator, of course) we have mot only an excellent view of the huge city around us but also of the people exercising below.
Before the tower, on the river side, is a statue that symbolizes the three pillars of North Korean society: three people carrying the symbolic implements, the hammer for the workers, the sickle for the farmers, and the brush for the intellectuals. (The latter indicating how different North Korean culture actually is from the Chinese where intellectuals were abhorred during the cultural revolution.)
Later, we hear from Mr. Pak that we are actually the first tour group ever in North Korea to be allowed to walk across the bridge to the Juche Tower like we did today. Mostly, he tells us, this is because we are disciplined, and don’t run off all over the place — like Russians tend to do. With us, he can “manage” it so that we have a little freedom without causing problems. We’re to experience many more examples of the way in which Mr. Pak tries to build a little flexibility into our schedule, and not just show us what is required to be shown, but also try to accommodate our wishes.
To the hospital
After a delicious lunch and a short visit to the monument to the Founding of the Worker’s Party (more good sculpture but otherwise uninteresting) we’re treated to a tour in the Hospital of Korean Medicine in P’yŏngyang; this small hospital, concentrating on traditional Korean medicine serves several important functions: science, treatment (free), training of doctors, and exchange between the DPRK and the UN security council.
Rather surprisingly, we are shown various treatment and diagnostic techniques. (Some of us wonder whether we’re seeing real patients or actors but it would be a really elaborate setup for a small group of foreign visitors — we see no other tour groups; I just can’t believe this theory.) For diagnosis, the patient is assigned to one of four “body types” (at least that’s how I understand it); one of the intake techniques used is taking the patient’s fingerprints — directly into a computer system, using a touch-sensitive pad and a program that graphically prompts for each of the fingers. Echography is also being used for diagnosis.
Some treatments are surprising for us westerners but we could learn something here - they don’t poison the body with chemicals when not needed; for instance one lady with a gall bladder problem is being treated purely with a course of acupressure and massage; she’s getting 40 massages of 30 minutes, and no medicines at all. The massage seems to be targeted to stimulate the body to “heal itself” and looks very relaxing, too. Treatment of broken legs with acupuncture is somewhat less surprising to me given that in the West bones are often helped to heal with electrical stimulation — but there is no cast. We are shown many more things and treatments, all in all a very interesting visit (and not something you’d expect to see on a visit to a foreign country; they ‘re obviously proud of their medical techniques).
Wednesday 2006-09-06 - Mangyongdae, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
A little farm house
On the way to Namp'o city, 50km from P'yŏngyang, we pay a visit to a small, restored farmhouse in Mangyongdae. When we enter the landscaped grounds, there is soft background music. The house itself is actually more like a little museum: this house is the place where Great Leader Kim Il Sung was born in 1912. In one of the rooms there is a photograph of him at 19 years old, together with his parents, both of which died young while in exile in China, during the Japanese occupation of Korea. Also interesting are the various tools and implements used on a small farm at that time.
After our visit to the birth house, we make a little walk through the park. From the highest point we have a nice view of P’yŏngyang city; directly below us we see Turu island in the middle of the Taedong river and almost in the middle of the city, where vegetables for the city are grown: we see a small village in the middle of the fields, and small groups of houses, each for a work team, the smallest unit of a cooperative.
Wednesday 2006-09-06 - Namp’o, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Three sets of slippers
Unfortunately, we don’t stop in Namp'o city on the way to our Ryonggang Hot Spring Hotel. First, we're on an enormous 10-lane highway (with very little traffic, and we note it's easily wide and straight enough to serve as a landing strip fro a large plane -- only half joking) but soon we turn off and drive through the countryside. Most of the landscape is very flat but with rather "pointy" hills sticking up from the flat base. The main crops I note are rice and maize. I ask Mr. Pak but unfortunately we can't stop for a picture of this typical landscape.
With all the rice paddies, there are obviously a lot of wetlands here, and when we arrive at the hotel grounds, large flights of Great white herons fly over.
The hotel is actually a kind of resort, with a central “recreation center” that also houses the reception and a dinner hall, and a number of houses scattered over the nicely landscaped grounds. When we (my room mate Thekla and I) arrive at “our” house, a lady welcomes us and shows us the ropes: downstairs, just inside the door, you take off your shoes and don a pair of slippers to walk over the marble floors and stairways. Our room is upstairs, and inside the door we find a set of regular discardable “hotel slippers” for walking about in the room (leaving the first set of slippers at the door); just inside the bathroom door is a third pair of slippers for each of us (one blue, one pink), and we’re to wear these plastic slippers inside the bathroom. It all sort of makes sense, but it’s a little elaborate…
The lady immediately opens the lower tap above the enormous blue-tiled bathtub, out of which comes hot, salty spring water, supposed to have healing qualities. Thekla and I opt for the most practical solution: we share the bath (easy since there are two seats sculpted in the bath tub).
Dinner is in the big, brightly-lit dinner room in the recreation center, where we are served by ladies in traditional costume; apart from the big slices of white bread (which I don’t touch), the foods is Korean — and delicious.
Thursday 2006-09-07 - Namp’o, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Taming the waters
In the Netherlands we’re used to large dykes like the Afsluitdijk and the great barrages that are part of the Delta works. So the West Sea Barrage we’re driving to this morning from our nice hotel in Namp’o should not be all that impressive for us Dutch visitors — but it holds a surprise. Not only is it big, with its length of 8km and 36 locks of which three are shipping locks of various sizes and a revolving bridge, with 5 gates set in a group normally open, and passages for the migration of fish; not only was it built in just 5 years with locally-developed building techniques; and it does not just tame the sea like we do in the Netherlands: it also — and mostly — tames the river to make it useful.
The Taedong river which flows through P’yŏngyang flows out into the Korean West Sea here. By holding the river waters back, it is possible to irrigate a huge area with the river water. But at the same time the barrage prevents too much sea water backing up during high water which would make the water too brackish for agriculture.
When we drive away over the 8km long dyke, the effect can be clearly seen in the landscape: near the barrage, the water is still slightly brackish, and there are large areas here devoted to salt farming; the salt farms produce (not: mine) salt by evaporation of the brackish water in shallow ponds. Farther on there is a landscape with endless rice paddies, with beans grown on the edges between the fields, interspersed with maize. The land is mostly flat, all of it devoted to agriculture, with the houses built on the sides of the hills sticking up through the flat land: this way the area devoted to agriculture is maximized.
Mr. Pak tells us that in the North they grow mainly potatoes though in Korean cuisine these are used mostly for side dishes, not as a staple food. As a result of the famines, the president has started a program to teach the people how to use potatoes as a staple food as well.
Thursday 2006-09-07 - P’yŏngyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
The USS “Pueblo”
Back to P’yŏngyang from the West Sea Barrage is about 70km. Once there, we’re first having lunch in the revolving restaurant on top of the Yanggakdo hotel (the name means “Sheep’s horn island”: yang = sheep, gak = horn, do = island), so we can have a view of the city by daylight as well.
Our first visit today is to the USS “Pueblo”: an American spy ship captured on January 23, 1968 in territorial waters off Wŏnsan — the Americans deny the ship was in territorial waters but it certainly was not far off —; only after the Koreans fired a grenade (killing one officer) did they surrender. It was an embarrassing incident for the Americans, especially since the Koreans captured so much sensitive material (the crew had no time to destroy it all). President Johnson tried to deny it was a spy ship and vehemently accused the Koreans of illegal aggression but by then the crew had already admitted it was actually a spy ship while the equipment and records found on board told their own story. The crew wrote a letter to their president, and finally in December 1968, after exactly 11 months, the US sheepishly apologized and the crew was allowed to return.
The Koreans refused to return the captured ship itself though and kept it as booty. Our tour around the ship, originally kept in Wŏnsan but now docked in P’yŏngyang on the Taedong river as a floating museum, is actually very interesting.
I expect this is a little bit of history — with the first U.S. Navy ship to be hi-jacked on the high seas by a foreign military force in over 150 years — most Americans would rather forget… But there are more twists to the story (which naturally is different as told by each side); the official site of the USS PUEBLO Veteran’s Association makes interesting reading in this respect.
Transportation
Bikes
Apart from public transportation (more about that later) the main means of transportation seems to be the bike and you see them in a large variety of shapes and ages. If you want to have a bike, you have to buy it in a shop (many second-hand from Japan; most local bikes are still of inferior quality, although there is now a joint venture with China to produce bikes). Once bought, the bike must be registered at the district security office (the equivalent of a police station) and you get a little round license plate, usually attached at the ubiquitous front basket on the handle bars (I have actually seen only a single bike without such a basket). These little baskets are used to transport all sorts of things, from schoolbooks and other papers to pet dogs and even small children.
Apart from the simple luggage rack (sometimes used for very heavy loads), there may be a basket mounted on the luggage rack as well, and once I saw a man peddling by with a whole gaggle of ducks in his back basket, all curiously peering around.
Apparently at one time women were not allowed to ride bikes but that is definitely not true any longer: I’ve seen women on bikes, and our Uni rides a bike as well. One remarkable feature about bikes in the DPRK: I see not a single bike with a lock — apparently bikes are not stolen here. In all, variation and usage of bikes here is very much like that in China, with the most noteworthy difference the lack of locks, and the fact that on average they’re a little older.
Cars
Apart from buses and trucks, there are actually very few cars in the DPRK, most of them “public” (state-owned) but there are some private cars as well. One way someone may get a private car is as an award for a special service to the country (say, winning at an international sports championship). Another is that relatives living abroad may send someone a car as a present. There are (at least) three different kind of license plates by which you can tell what type of car it is: all publicly owned cars (ordinary cars, taxis, buses and trucks) have a white plate; black is for the army, and yellow is for private cars — I noted only two of the latter, but of course with so much to see, I did not only look at license plates!
A huge problem is a serious shortage of oil (the country has none of its own, and the military comes first). This explains the curiously smoking trucks we sometimes see, especially in the countryside: they are powered by cokes, with a little gasification plant in the back (the part that is producing all the smoke — similar to how many cars were run in the Netherlands during the second world war: it’s a little more complicated than oil, but ingenious and effective.
The shortage of oil also causes blackouts, making the trams and trolleybuses used for public transportation not always very reliable, with the result that buses in P’yŏngyang are usually packed. Buses may have a series of stars painted on the side: one each for 50,000km safe transportation — I see quite a few with a whole series of stars.
The P’yŏngyang subway
Since I “collect” subways, riding the P'yŏngyang subway is a special treat for me, even though we only see a short stretch between two stations -- in fact, the section all tourists to the DPRK are shown, from Puhung station to Yonggwang station -- that makes it no less interesting. The subway system has two lines, with 17 stations in all, and a total length of 35km.
Stories that travelers on this stretch are actors (for the benefit of foreign visitors) and that this stretch between two stations is the only functional part are sheer fantasy -- or propaganda. We see ordinary people, and lots of clearly excited school kids with pink and red (plastic) flowers: they're traveling on, on their way to celebrate the National Soccer team returning victoriously today from an international championship in Russia. We also saw lots of people with such flowers on the streets all over the place. (Two days later, the jubilant reception of the soccer team was shown on national television.)
Also noteworthy are the newspaper displays on all platforms, usually with a small cluster of people around them reading: this is the only way most people read the newspaper. Not to forget that the whole system is incredibly deep underground (the escalators taking you to the level where the trains run is dizzyingly high), and also functions as a bomb shelter for the population.
Every station has its own unique decorations, each station with a theme; there are enormous mosaics along the wall (no ads here)— some of them quite beautiful — and huge chandeliers designed to fit the theme. Supposedly the subway was modeled on that of Moscow; I can’t compare since I haven’t been there but some say it’s actually more beautiful.
While most public transportation in P’yŏngyang uses secondhand material imported from abroad, it seems some of the subway cars at least were produced locally. In all, I’m very impressed. The subway is clean, and designed to be pleasant and efficient — not merely functional as in so many cities.
Growing talent
In every school in the country, children can take part in all sorts of extra-curricular activities. Those who show real talent for something can move on to one of the 11 Children’s’ Palaces in the country; then they go there every day after school to practice and receive high-quality instruction.
This afternoon, we visit one such Children’s’ Palace in P'yŏngyang, the Mangyongdae School children's Palace. It really is a palace, fitted out in local marble with decorations of other types of stone. For a change, we get a tour not from a professional local guide, but from a teenage girl (she's 15, maybe) who tells us about the building and smoothly shows us around along various classes. We see children taking lessons in music (both on the traditional zither and on accordion), swimming (a large swimming hall with jumping boards of different heights, the highest 5m high), calligraphy, embroidery (using a technique that's more like painting with colored threads -- the best done so that both sides of the cloth are "good" so the painting can be put up in a free-standing frame). Some of the kids are already very good, while others are still learning basic techniques.
After visiting these classes (obviously a small selection of what’s on offer), we get to see one of the weekly performances. In the theater, all foreign tourists sit in the middle section of seats, while other visitors, mainly schoolchildren, sit on either side: as usual we’re kept carefully apart from local people.
The kids, of a variety of ages, present a dazzling show with song and dance, mime, acrobatics, and both modern and traditional music. These kids are so good, I get goose pimples every now and then — and I’m not the only one. True, they’re the cream of the cream, but it’s extremely impressive.
Cucumber salad (2)
We eat out again this evening, and although I eat only a little (I already ate a lot at lunch!) I absolutely can’t resist the cucumber salad — so much so I eat the left over on my neighbor’s table as well.
Meanwhile we discuss the possible recipe for this Korean dish I’m now firmly addicted to. There’s always a little variation, but we work it out more or less as follows:
- thin strips of cucumber, about 6cm long and 1-2 wide
- optionally, a few slivers of lean chicken meat or fish
- a light dressing, slightly sour, which I’m guessing is made of something very like Vietnamese fish sauce with a little vinegar (I’m going to try Thai fish sauce with lime juice)
- very thin slivers (1mm) of hot red pepper to taste
- extremely finely chopped mild garlic (or onion)
- sesame seeds sprinkled over it all
Enjoy!
Friday 2006-09-08 - P’yŏngyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
This is hard work!
Already on the first day in P’yŏngyang we learned that the itinerary as published by Koning Aap (Monkey King) is actually two days out of date. Most of the elements are still there albeit rearranged but for instance the two hikes I’d been looking forward to (and counted on to keep in shape for my planned Beijing hikes) have been canceled. There are other program elements in their place, but I’m rather disappointed about the canceled hikes.
All these changes imply though that we’re never more than one night in the same place. Officially we check out each time after one night in the P’yŏngyang Yanggakdo hotel, but in practice we return to the same rooms; still, we can’t leave our things in those rooms, so the room of Yvon (our tour companion) is kept for the period to have a place to store most of our luggage and take only a smaller overnight bag when we go into the country.
Apart from all this to-ing and fro-ing, each day has a full program, leaving us barely any “free” time. On the one hand, that’s a good thing since we’re not allowed to freely roam around on our own anyway but on the other hand we’re all soon suffering from a bit of information overload, with no time to process it all — let alone (for me) to write my travel blog stories. In fact, I only just manage to keep my own diary notes during the day: I must write those during and after each program point or I’ll have forgotten most of it by evening. (Of course, every now and then in the evening we gather in a hotel bar but I’m not skipping on this little social time just to write.) On the positive side, we actually get a lot to see on this rather short 10-day trip.
While it’s actually possible to send an email from the Yanggakdo hotel — and when on the road I update this blog via an email interface — I find I simply have no time to write out my stories. I’ll have to try to catch up once back in Beijing. (There is only email access for us though: no web access, although I know at least some people in the DPRK do have web access.)
I do get into a routine of offloading all (digital) photographs made each day on my image tank and recharging both the image tank’s and the camera’s batteries; with one exception, power is no problem and most hotels actually provide a power strip where I can just plug in my equipment - I don’t even need my international adapter plug.
My first good breakfast
OK, so I’m weird (a little): I never eat a “continental” breakfast in hotels, or whatever the local interpretation of that is. And I never eat white bread. Most of our group actually enjoy the thick slices of lightly toast bread, jam, butter, and omelet. It’s just not for me: mostly I make do with just the egg, and the occasional (very good) kefir.
So this morning at breakfast at the Yanggakdo hotel in P’yŏngyang in the downstairs restaurant (no view from the roof any more) I’m pleasantly surprised: there’s a breakfast buffet with a wealth of both western and Korean dishes! I dish up a lot of (mostly spicy) vegetables, add a few pieces of apple, and take a glass of kefir and as a result I have my first really nice (not to say delicious) breakfast since our arrival in the DPRK. I can get used to this!
King Tongmyong
Our first stop on the way from P’yŏngyang to Wŏnsan today is the (reconstructed) tomb of King Tongmyong who founded the Koguryo kingdom (lasting from 277 BC to 668 AD) and the Tongmyong dynasty. King Tongmyong was the most powerful and most worshiped king of Korea. In this area, only some 22km south of P’yŏngyang, there are actually 15 tombs in all, made for the burial of kings, members of the royal family and the aristocracy, but this tomb is is the largest, and obviously most important one. The site has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2004; the listing includes more similar tombs near Namp’o.
We visit a small museum on the grounds where a series of beautifully done murals depict the life story of King Tongmyong and Korean life and culture at the time showing games and contests at celebrations but also scenes of village life. Our (inevitable) local guide tells us these paintings are based on murals found in the tombs — that seems a bit of a stretch to us, the style looking too modern, but we reason it is of course possible that the actual themes of the paintings were indeed depicted in the original murals. However, the UNESCO justification for listing the site specifically mentions the “beautiful wall paintings” and the description states:
“These paintings offer a unique testimony to daily life of this period.”
One rather moving story depicted in one of the paintings is that of the reunification of the king with his son: the king had been married, but divorced; many years later, a young man came to visit the king and presented him with the tip of his broken sword, thus proving he was the king’s son. When the king died at the early age of 40, his son, just 19 then, succeeded him.
Museum monks
Right next to King Tongmyong’s tomb (and part of the World heritage site near P’yŏngyan) is the small Jongrung Temple, where prayers were said for the deceased king; we pay a visit to this as well. In this country, where any religion has been almost totally ruled out, it still feels strange, sterile even — not like a real, “living” monastery, even though six monks still live here: no lamps burn in front of the Buddha statues, and the distinctive aroma of burning incense is completely missing. I wonder, how are they practicing their religion and duties as monks then? The place feels more like a museum with the monks as caretakers.
When I ask the guide (through Miss Uni - the guide doesn’t speak English) how the monastery gets new novices, she tells us these monks can marry, and that their sons can succeed them. They’re also not required to shave their heads, whether to do that is their own choice. Now while I know that in some types of Buddhism monks can indeed marry, the idea of monks’ sons succeeding them sounds very strange to me: is this some strange sect or has this monastery been “reformed” by the government into something not really Buddhist any more?
