NK 7. Help! Screamed the girl.

Friday, 14 April 2017

Pyongyang, North Korea

ALMIGHTY BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

WHAT THE…

ALMIGHTY BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

VERY LOUD AND VERY CLOSE.

Disturbed from a deep sleep. You can imagine how grumpy I am.

Jetlagged, dazed and confused I come to. At first, I think it’s my wake up call scheduled for 0645hrs.

Look at watch.

It’s 0500hrs. The middle of the chuffing night.

The banging is very loud and incessant.

A man is shouting through the door.

A female voice is screaming for help.

Clucking bell.

It’s the girl in the room next door.

Leap out of bed all gazelle like, unlock and open my bedroom door. Making myself as physically big and aggressive as I can. No idea what I’m about to walk into. Discover a young ‘local’ lad in his twenties banging and shouting on the girl in the next bedroom’s door. You’ll remember from the yesterday’s post that our doors are close together and off a small ante-lobby from the main corridor. The girl is my fellow traveller whom I’ve just met.

Lad is fully clothed. I. Am. Not. Standing there in my t-shirt and boxers. It’s not a good look ladies.

Lad looks dazed and doesn’t seem to know what day it is. Drugs. Alcohol. Stupidity. Sleepwalking. I know not.

Girl next door is screaming from the other side of the door. The lad is taught two English words. One of which is ‘off’. You can imagine the first word.

Girl can now hear me verbally abusing lad and is now shrieking through her door, “TT is that you? I’m absolutely petrified!! Is he drunk?”

Tell her not to worry. It’s OK.

I. Am. Here.

The same two English words are repeatedly barked at lad. He’s clearly not quite sure how to take the giant standing in the doorway in his jim-jams about to throttle him.

He’s now stopped shouting. Partly in fear at what I look like I could possibly do. Murder. Partly because I’m the one who is doing the shouting. Repeating the same two English words. Very loudly. Very aggressively.

The lights are on but no one is at home it seems. The same two English words are shouted. Repeatedly. Can tell he’s startled and is no danger now. He’s calmed down. He’s cowering in the corner.

Try a different word. “Leave!!” shout I.

And, rather surprisingly, he exits our little ante-lobby and stands in the main corridor. Just standing there looking dazed.

The same two English words are shouted. Again. And again. I’ve probably woken up the whole floor now with my shouting. Only an annoying and irritating little sister will know how loud I can shout at someone.

After a minute or so lad wanders off. And disappears. Never to be seen again.

Silence.

Until. A little voice from the girl next door, “Has he gone?”. At which point she comes out of her room, having moved the desk and chairs she had propped up against the door.

So. There we are. She’s in her jim-jams. I’m in my jim-jams. We’ve only just met.

Welcome to Pyongyang.

You couldn’t make it up, dear reader.

My heart is pounding. It’s 0500hrs. Woke up in a state of shock. Wound up. Knackered.

Say goodnight to girl. And back to bed for a 0645hrs alarm call. Ninety minutes later.

Doze for the remaining hour and a half. Until I hear a knocking on my door. Again. Assuming it’s a cleaner or gentle wake up call it’s ignored.

Meet girl in lobby. Both laugh at our nocturnal activities.

And so begins our tour of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. As that’s a mouthful I’ll call it the DPRK. Not North Korea.

Driving through the city centre of Pyongyang early morning see plenty of people walking and queuing to pay their respects at very large murals of Kim Il-Sung (the founding father) and Kim Jong-Il (his son). Standard communist era architecture. Lots of apartment blocks in various colours.

Heading south on the Reunification Highway to the DMZ. The De-Militarised Zone at Panmunjon. About 160km/100miles (3 to 3.5hrs drive) from Pyongyang. As we leave the city behind, the landscape is varied and quite mountainous. Very red soil and the farmers seem to be growing maize and rice. Lots of people on bikes and quite a few wave to us as we drive by in the bus. Seems very friendly.

Although tarmac, the road is very rough and bumpy. Hardly any other road traffic. Just us in the bus plus a few cars. Which we’re told will belong to government officials or people high up in the party.

Stop at what would be a motorway service station. The sort you would find in Europe bridging the motorway.

But.

It’s not open. Not enough traffic to warrant opening.

So.

The staff have set up a few tables outside in the car park to serve hot drinks from a flask. And cakes and biscuits. And sweets. Good job it’s not raining.

A significant lack of traffic allows you to stand in the middle of the road. It would be the equivalent of standing in the middle of the M1 during morning rush hour.

Arriving at the DMZ there’s the obligatory souvenir shop and an explanation of the DMZ and the JSA. The Joint Security Area. Followed by security checks to enter the actual DMZ and JSA. Having been to the DMZ in South Korea a few years previously, it’s a lot more relaxed this side of the fence.

Potted history.

The De-Militarised Zone is the 250km long, 4km wide, border between the DPRK and South Korea. Running from the Yellow Sea in the west to the Sea of Japan in the east. Established following the Korean War armistice in 1953, after three years of war between the communist north and the democratic south. Within this DMZ is a meeting point where the two nations negotiated the armistice. This meeting point is called the Joint Security Area.

The Joint Security Area is at Panmunjon. You can visit the JSA as a tourist from both the DPRK side and the South Korean side. Within the JSA is an assortment of buildings including a row of blue huts called the ‘Conference Rooms’ in which the actual border runs straight through the middle. If you see the photos below, you’ll see the blue huts and a raised concrete plinth running between them. That concrete plinth is the border. You’ll recognise it as the place where President Trump met Kim Jong-Un.

In addition, there are administrative buildings belonging to both DPRK and South Korea on each side.

The actual armistice was signed in the Armistice Hall just inside the DPRK border and it’s set out exactly as it was during the peace negotiations in 1953. A fascinating slice of history.

It is sometimes allowed for tourists to enter the Conference Room blue huts and cross into South Korea and back again into the DPRK. Sadly, due to heightened tensions (minor issue of DPRK firing missiles left, right and centre) not able to enter the huts.

Instead, taken inside Panmun Hall, the DPRK’s administrative building to an outdoor viewing balcony for an impressive view of the border and the South Korean admin building with a phenomenal amount of security cameras.

What you have to remember is that we have no internet or mobile phone signal in the DPRK. So you can imagine my delight when I discover that my phone can pick up the South Korean 4G signal. Which necessitates secretly sending a WhatsApp message home without the security guards seeing me.

Lunch is inside the JSA and our first real taste of DPRK food. It’s excellent. Lots of small bowls of various foods placed before us. A smorgasbord of delicacies. Had been warned that we would be overfed despite Western media reports that locals are starving. Whilst that may be the case, we saw no one that looked like they were starving.

Apart from the delicious food, the highlight is being served by stunningly beautiful young girls in green khaki uniforms and…high heels. Rather enjoying the DPRK.

Short tour of the Kaesong Museum, the historically important original seat of learning, founded in 992AD, although the structures we see today date back to the 18^th century. Guide points to an old drinking cup and explains that it was used by Generals before going into battle and makes a quip about what to say when drinking. Except the ‘bottoms up’ translates as ‘bottoms it up’.

Leave Kaesong as the schools are coming out and see long lines of children holding hands and waving to us as we drive by. Very friendly.

Back in Pyongyang, treated to a pint in a pub. The Taedadong 3 Microbrewery is one of many and is basically a room with a bar at one end on the ground floor of what appears to be an office block. Very nice pint.

Dinner is in a local ‘hot pot’ restaurant. Not quite Betty Turpin’s Hot Pot. Each person presented with a little burner and a small pan of water and oil. Along with plates of raw ingredients.

CIY. Cook. It. Yourself. Like Masterchef we have to cook the meat, noodles and veg before adding the egg. Great fun and tasty. Plenty of food. Not sure how local a restaurant it is as all the other customers are western tourists.

2100hrs by the time dinner finishes. Late getting back to hotel. Again.

Dear reader, I am shattered.

All I want is a nice long sleep. Undisturbed by being woken up in the middle of the night. Again.

Ho. Ho. Ho.