Monday, 17 April 2017
Pyongyang, DPRK
Think we can safely say that the Chongchon Hotel could be described as shabby chic but without the chic. Unable to turn off the underfloor heating the room is stifling and opening the window is a no no because of all the midges that swarm in. Need to take the quilt out of its cover sheet and sleep on top of the quilt and two other quilts in the wardrobe as the bed is like lying on a slab of concrete. So hard is it.
Whilst closing curtains/window last night, saw a security man patrolling the hotel grounds with a bright flashlight. The girls in our group had been told yesterday evening by our female guide to keep balcony doors and windows closed and locked for security as it’s not safe. Not sure if that was a means to ensure we don’t leave our hotel or if it really is unsafe. We have been instructed from the start of the trip that we are not allowed to wander out of the various hotels on our own and must stay put with the rest of the group.
Wake up to the dulcet tones of what sounds like Tony Blackburn. It surely can’t be. Can it? In the middle of North Korea?! But yes. It is. The girl in the next room is playing a recorded BBC Radio 2 programme which can be heard through the paper thin walls.
Breakfast is omelette with toast and jam. Wanting more than the regulation one cup of coffee, made to pay one euro for an additional cup. I mean, really?!
Chucking it down with rain as we walk down the main street of Myohyang town.
Guide tells us we’re being watched so only to take photographs when he says it’s OK.
Apartment blocks are three to four storeys high with very faded paint and told they’re 17 years old. Look much older than that. A street sign for a restaurant has chopsticks instead of our western knife and fork. The main square is a large expanse of concrete with a local government building on one side. Guide looks around and tells us to take photos very quickly as we may have problems. Quite from what or whom we don’t know.
Korean music is playing through loudspeakers installed at regular intervals. Apparently the music is on a patriotic theme to liven up the lives of the locals and make them work for the benefit of the country and be productive in their work.
This is the real DPRK we’re witnessing. Not like the relatively touristy capital. It’s fascinating.
Be thankful you live in the west. With your first world problems. Like no ripe avocadoes at Waitrose.
Short journey up the valley towards Mount Myohyang on Forestry Commission type gravel roads. And then. A surprise.
A massive 5 star hotel.
One of the best in the DPRK.
Having suffered power and water cuts in the night and hot shabby rooms in the Chongchon hotel last night all demand to know why we didn’t stay in the five star?! It’s EUR200 a night says the guide. Sod that. All happy to pay the extra.
Halfway up the valley is the Pohyon Temple. Founded in 1042 but heavily damaged in the Korean War. Restored and heavily decorated in colourful paint, it is said that the temple houses the original tablets of Confucius.
The main reason for travelling up through Alpine scenery towards the 6,000ft Mount Myohyang though is the International Friendship Exhibition. Housing all the gifts given to the Kims from other world leaders, visiting dignitaries and other assorted entities.
Before entering the complex built into the mountain, which I suspect could be used as a nuclear bunker, we’re shown the massive entrance doors about 4m high. Told they are solid brass. Looks like a paint job to me.
As with the mausoleum a few days ago, security is tight and all bags and cameras have to be checked in before passing through security scanners and then being patted down with wands by female staff in military uniform.
The complex is on six levels. It is phenomenal. Never seen anything like it. Massive hallways with massive chandeliers. The like of which I doubt I will ever see again. The DPRK does chandeliers like nowhere else. Not even the Middle East.
Many long corridors. Some 300m long (I kid you not) with numbered rooms off each side for gifts from particular countries. Chinese, Russian and African nations have the most gifts with whole series of rooms dedicated to them. European democracies, on the other hand, just have single display cases lumped together in the same room. The UK’s display cabinet has gifts from a number of insurance brokers which seems bizarre with the rest from various loony leftie workers’ parties.
Told of a French director of a company who gifted an ornate metal table topped with crystal glass. It was very expensive and because of that he was expecting it to be personally used by Kim Il-Sung. You can imagine how gutted he was he when visited the exhibition on a second trip and discovered his table in one of the display cases having been simply put directly there and unused by Kim Il-Sung.
One of the best gifts is from China and depicts a river and trees. Only on closer inspection do you realise it’s made from colourful bird feathers. Extraordinary.
The largest gift is a Russian aircraft which is housed in a hangar like room. The lengths to which all these gifts have been accommodated in this massive complex is bewildering.
Taken to three rooms with wax models of Kim Il-Sung in one, Kim Jong-Il in another and Kim Suk in the other. Kim Suk being the wife of Kim Il-Sung who died aged 32. In each room, have to line up in two rows and bow deeply and long from the waist at the wax models. In silence. Solemnity is the word here.
Except. One of our group, an Irish lad, doesn’t bow. Joke that we’ll see what happens when he tries to leave the country.
Our tour guide of the complex is a beautiful women dressed in typical DPRK dress and although she only speaks Korean she engages us with her beautiful brown eyes. The women in our group want a photo of her but she doesn’t want to. Having shared a little laugh with her about my height at the beginning of the tour I offer my right arm and give her a nod to join me for a photo.
And she does. Taurean charm you see.
However.
The women don’t want me in the photo.
So.
On the word ‘go’ I have to dart to my left to leave a beautiful woman on her own.
Fortunately she laughs at my antics. She’s really nice.
Back down the mountain and treated to lunch in the five star hotel we passed earlier. But as we find in other hotels, not that busy. You get the feeling there aren’t many guests. Even though it’s fully staffed. Excellent lunch and probably the best food we have on the tour. A foil parcel is presented on our plates. Ooh the excitement. Well, dear reader, it’s cut open to reveal. Half a fish. Yep. There’s a fish head staring up at me from my plate. Chopped in half.
Returning to Pyongyang along the same road we came, see an ancient tractor in a field. Seems to be on fire in the engine bay but can only assume this is a steam driven tractor as there’s a lot of steam/smoke from what appears to be the exhaust.
Drive through the suburbs of Pyongyang to the Mangyongdae Native Site. The birthplace of Kim Il-Sung in 1912. Told that it’s the exact thatched cottage where he was born and is still in-situ from over 100 years ago. Call me sceptical but it all looks a bit new and well kept to me.
Yet another very attractive female guide. The DPRK does very attractive female guides.
The ‘cottage’ is set in a large parkland and there’s more music playing over the loudspeakers. The various artefacts on show, including cooking utensils and pots, were all used by the family 100 years ago. Apparently.
Nearby is the Mangyongdae Fun Fair. Think disused amusement park last seen in Scooby Doo. You get the picture.
And to round the day off. On the bus, male tour guide surprises us with a rendition of ‘Oggy, oggy, oggy’. Who knew Max Boyce was big in the DPRK?!
Return to the Yanggakdo Hotel (www.north-korea-travel.com/yanggakdo-hotel.html) to discover we’ve all been given the exact same rooms that we had when we first arrived. Key cards are a precious thing in the DPRK. They all have the room number sellotaped on them. You must hand the key card back upon checking out. Don’t even think about leaving the country with a key card to your hotel room.
Hoping for a decent night’s sleep with no knocking again.
Ho. Ho. Ho.
