Tuesday, 18 April 2017
Hamhung, North Korea
Knock. Knock.
Who’s there?
“It’s me.”
It’s late at night though not fast asleep. Thankfully, for the girl next door knocking on my door. Again.
You’ll remember, dear reader, that we have the same adjoining rooms off a little lobby. The scene of a rumpus in the early hours on the first night.
Another nocturnal ‘chat’ required.
In our jim-jams. Again.
Al Jazeera reporting that the DPRK’s Foreign Minister is telling the USA not to bomb the DPRK as the DPRK will retaliate with its own nuclear missiles.
Girl next door is worried. Assure her that nothing will happen. The US Vice President is currently in Seoul. A stone’s throw away. Literally. If they nuke Pyongyang, they’ll nuke the VP too. USA’s allies have demanded no unilateral missile strikes on the DPRK.
It’s all kicking off.
Re-assured by my dulcet tones and rational thinking girl next door sidles off back to bed.
No further knocks in the night and wake to low and thick black clouds. A thunderstorm.
Absolutely chucking it down.
Having bought a number of postcards a few days ago they are posted in the hotel’s letterbox. Only very complimentary things are written on the back about the DPRK. Do want them delivered after all. Old friend (as in longevity…ahem) will be receiving two. I’m at the top of the leaderboard for postcards received from her friends and family. Yay.
Long drive to Hamhung on the eastern coast of the DPRK. Can’t see anything through the bus windows as they’re constantly steamed up. Sitting on the middle seat of the back row of the bus so I can stretch my long legs out down the aisle. Not the best place to sit. The road is bumpy. Very bumpy. The rear wheels hit the bump, shunt the back of the bus high up and then crash down. Along with my bottom. So bad, my body is thrown clear of the seat. And I come crashing down. Jarring my spine. With a few expletives.
Time.
And.
Again.
It. Is. Like. Riding. A. Bucking. Bronco.
Actually quite painful.
Hardly any traffic on the roads. The odd bus and car now and again. Cars, we are told, will belong to the elite.
Soon enter the mountainous area and parts of it remind me of the Highlands. Very brown landscape because of all the farming but still low cloud and heavy rain making it difficult to see much.
Driving through a tunnel, guarded at the portals by armed soldiers (as all tunnels are for some reason), the bus literally crashes onto the ground as we go over a very large bump hidden in the darkness of the unlit tunnel. Smashing the suspension. So bad I’m thrown into the air about a foot off my seat. So bad that the driver has to stop the bus after the tunnel to check the bus over.
Two hours of being jolted about on the backseat bucking bronco glad for a pitstop at the Sinphyong Tea House set on the shore of a small reservoir used for hydro power. Notable for the fact that it sells German chocolate and out of date Vietnamese look-a-like Werthers Originals.
The reservoir has been partially drained for hydro power generation which means that the lake bed is exposed. Hundreds of locals are fetching mud from the lake bed like a line of little ants scurrying to and fro. They apparently use it as natural fertiliser. All manual labour each with a bucket collecting mud. Hundreds of them.
Another two hours of being tossed about on the back before reaching the Ullim Waterfalls. Quite impressive falls. Still chucking it down with rain all get drenched walking the ten minutes to the falls up the valley.
Lunch was meant to be a picnic under sunny and blue skies by the waterfall.
Lunch is a picnic on an open to the elements terrace in a half derelict concrete building sheltering from the cold and incessant rain by the waterfall.
Cold tray of cold fish. Cold chicken. Salad (cold). Cold dumplings. Cold rice.
Oh and it’s cold.
In preparation for a dodgy lunch I’ve had the foresight at breakfast to make up a jam sandwich for Ron. Later on. That is. And an imported Snickers from Munich airport.
Chat with my fellow traveller (who is reading this) who looks very surprised when told I’m 47. “You’re quite playful!”, he says. Think that’s a compliment. Act your shoe size not your age, dear reader. Life is too short. Enjoy it whilst you can.
Rain, rain, goes away as we approach Hamhung and the blue sky puts in an appearance at last. Quite Alpine scenery as we drive through the mountains. Stop at a mountain pass so driver can have a fag break. There’s a restaurant and kiosk and the locals start waving to us and chatting as we have our leg stretch. Little kiosk sells snacks and even fresh fruit such as apples and tangerines. One of our group wants to buy some tangerines but doesn’t have money on her so goes back to bus to get the cash. As she does so, the bus driver gets his cash out and pays for about twenty tangerines. He refuses any money from us when we try and pay him back. Can you imagine a western tour bus driver doing that? And that’s the thing we find in the DPRK. How nice and friendly people continually are.
Arriving Hamhung late afternoon there’s a cheer from the women in the group at a toilet stop in an upmarket hotel. It has western style toilets. And clean. Rather than squat toilets experienced elsewhere enroute. Glad I’m a bloke.
Time to pay our respects Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il. Again. Standing atop Donhung Hill, the two very tall statues look out over Hamhung. It’s the done thing to present a bouquet of flowers to the statues and it’s my turn to cough up five euros for one of many bunches of flowers the group seems to be buying. As in Pyongyang, we line up in two rows and bow deep and long from the waist to pay our respects. I and a fellow traveller then proceed to place our bunches of flowers at the foot of the podium. Paying our respects.
As in Pyongyang, instructed to only take photographs of the whole statue not just a head shot or from behind. It’s the rules. Which I abide by as don’t want any problems exiting the country.
The hill upon which the statues reside was built by the residents of Hamhung as the statues were originally at street level and couldn’t be seen.
So.
Get this.
The residents moved 300,000 tons of earth from the nearby river to create this manmade hill plus 3,000 rocks to create the garden.
Quite impressive. Just shows how much the residents adore the Kims.
Glad they did as the hill affords cracking views across the roof tops of Hamhung’s apartment blocks which are brightly coloured in greens, purples and yellows.
Final stop at the former Royal Palace where emperor Ri Song Gye lived in the late 14th century. The main building apparently dated back to 1398 but was destroyed by Japanese feudal lord Hideyoshi’s forces at the turn of the 17th century and rebuilt in 1610. Our female guide is translating the local male guide and she can’t stop giggling when she has to translate and tell us that the 70 year old king liked girls and when they climbed the stairs he followed behind looking up their bottoms and then chose who to play with. She’s in fits of giggles explaining this to us and slightly embarrassed.
A 450 year old pine tree grows in the garden of the small palace complex. Pine in the DPRK is meant to bring long life. I take a needle from its branches. You’ll still be reading blogs from me in 200 years time, dear reader.
Overnight at the Ma Jon Hotel (https://asiasenses.com/accommodation/majon-beach-guesthouse). One of the DPRK’s finest hotels. On the beach. All the toiletries have obviously fallen off the back of a Sheraton Hotel as they’re all branded Sheraton. Large modern rooms and plush bathrooms. Could almost be a Sheraton.
Dinner is in the slightly garish banqueting room. With inflatable blue dolphins. There’s just our small group and one other dining in the large room. As you will see on the photos below.
