RTW 7. New bogies

Sunday, 9 May 2010

Minsk, Belarus

Warsaw Wschodnia station is grim. Very grim. Very communist era. It’s the departure station for the overnight express to Moscow. For ‘express’ read ‘trundle’.

Cabin is small. Thankful it’s just me as I only just fit in. A small wash hand basin is hidden under a table in the corner of the cabin. The toilet is down the corridor. It’s disgusting. I shall be holding it in.

Depart 1300hrs. Moscow here we come.

Time to settle in. There’s not going to be a whole lot to do for 20hrs. Crack open my provisions bought at Carrefour yesterday evening.

Lunch is stale bread. Warm cheese. Sweaty salami. Olives. Peanuts (not exactly jungle fresh).

Watch the scenery go by.

Trees.

Trees.

More trees.

Thankful we’re in First Class. Economy is grotty. Six to a cabin on bunkbeds.

One of our number is a real train buff who gives talks about rail signalling to the Royal Trainspotters Society. Or some such thing. I’ll gradually introduce you to the cast of characters in the rest of the group, dear reader. We’ll call him Signal John. Rail signalling is his thing. What he doesn’t know about rail signalling.

Eventually arrive at the Polish/Belarus border. Customs and immigration officials jump on board. Not to be messed with. All are armed and we’ve also got armed guards on the platform. Instructed to sit down in my cabin by border guard. Duly comply. Passport checked. Depart Poland and cross into Belarus about five miles up the line.

Barbed wire is the new Iron Curtain. Armed guard in a sentry box overlooking the river forming the border. Pass under a large sign which denotes entry to Belarus and the train immediately stops in the middle of nowhere. Belarus Gestapo get on. Not to be messed with either. Even more authoritative than the Polish. Cabins checked. Passports taken away for processing whilst we fill in an immigration card. A female customs official walks down the corridor demanding to see each cabin. Bleach blonde hair, black leather jacket and stilettos. Rocking that communist look. She shouts at me and points at my rucksack. “I’m English”, I say. And with a scornful sneer moves on. Taurean charm you see.

Passports and visas stamped, train trundles into Brest station a couple of minutes away and pulls up at the platform. Load of local women suddenly appear at the windows flogging food and drink. We’ll get used to this as the weeks progress.

Then they board the train and go from cabin to cabin. Beer and chicken seems to be the day’s speciality. Although there seems to be something else on offer when one of the women quietly enters the cabin of a lone male traveller further up the carriage and the curtains are quickly shut. I’ll leave you to work that one out, dear reader.

Now that we’re in the former Soviet Union the train’s bogies need to be changed from the 4ft 8½ inch European gauge to the 5ft Russian gauge. Fascinating watching the process which I was allowed to video. See video below.

The train set with nine carriages enters a large sidings shed with overhead gantry cranes. Carriages uncoupled from each other and the bogies disconnected from the carriage before the entire carriage is jacked up about 6ft on massive screw jacks. Mechanics swarm all over the bogies disconnecting hoses and couplings. The disconnected European bogies are then rolled out and replaced with Russian gauge bogies and the whole process is reversed. Takes about an hour.

With the Russian bogies fixed the train returns to Brest railway station, a nice building with a Communist feel, where it waits the forty minutes until its scheduled departure time.

Clocks have moved forward one hour and will move forward another hour as we enter Russia in the early hours of tomorrow morning.

So what to do for another 14hrs. In my cabin. Well. There’s dinner to look forward to.

Like lunch, dinner is stale bread. Warm cheese. Sweaty salami. Olives. Peanuts (not exactly jungle fresh).

Unlike lunch there’s a bottle of Jacobs Creek Shiraz Cabernet to moisten the mouth. Why on earth they don’t have screw tops in this neck of the woods I don’t know. Use the free corkscrew which came with the bottle. A corkscrew which will be much used over the next two months, dear reader.

Pacing myself with the red wine as I’m not intending drinking a whole bottle tonight.

But.

As the cork snapped in half when opening.

You know where this is going.

Hic.

Roasting hot in the cabin and nothing I can do to turn the heat off. Having the window open is too noisy. With the occasional whiff of diesel fumes.

Arrive Minsk 0100hrs. Damp, foggy and quite cold. Enjoy the cold fresh air whilst we wait in Minsk. Security guards with their large peaked caps patrol the platform. Other side of the train are troops waiting for a train to some unknown destination.

I next came to Minsk on my Cape to Cape trip three years later. You can read about my few days in Minsk which starts here: https://touringtaurean.com/2018/07/24/disinfection-is-made/

Struggle for sleep in the hot, noisy, bouncy cabin.

Having enjoyed the wine, need a pee in the middle of the night.

Do I…

A) walk down the corridor to a grotty toilet…

or…

B) use the small washhand basin in the corner of the cabin…

Decisions. Decisions.

RTW 6. You can spot a Brit a mile off!

Saturday, 8 May 2010

Warsaw, Poland

Having travelled independently thus far am to meet up with the rest of the Trans Siberian group. One set are also travelling to Moscow by train from London which I could’ve done but wanted to stop off to see Miss Braunschweig. Other set are flying into Moscow.

Wait in hotel lobby for British guide to arrive mid morning to meet up with the group travelling by train from London. They having travelled overnight by train from Germany.

Jolly young looking woman appears and says, “Are you Mr Taurean?”

“Yes”

“You can spot a Brit a mile off!”, she retorts. We’ll call her LC. Our escort and guide to Vladivostok.

Meet up with the eleven travellers that have also travelled by train from London. Safe to say I’m the youngest by some margin.

Orientation tour of Warsaw begins with the Royal Baths Park (Lazienki Park), the largest in Warsaw. Typical European park with assorted 17th and 18th century buildings and palaces. Hearing a concert by the lake discover a load of disabled kids in wheelchairs watching a disabled pop singer in a wheelchair on a stage on an island in the lake with TV cameras, lights and sound rig, belting out a rock ballad. Nearly become disabled myself when I slip and very nearly break a leg.

Last came to Warsaw in 1997 driving back from Istanbul. My recollection was that it was a nice place and felt safe. Still is today. Seems to be a younger generation milling about. Must be some festival as there’s a large group salsa dancing outside the Town Hall. Fantastic atmosphere on this warm sunny blue sky day.

The other good thing about Warsaw are the granite street benches. You push a button on them which then plays a few minutes of Chopin. Warsaw’s famous composer. Great idea but can’t see it working in the UK. Soon get vandalised.

Passing the Palace of Culture, Poland’s tallest building, see what appear to be people on a viewing terrace at the top. I’ll have a bit of that. Go to the nearest entrance. But directed to another entrance the other side of this large building. To find a ticket kiosk. But. She directs me to the other side from whence I came. Playing ping pong with Touring Taurean aren’t they. Find yet another entrance and directed to another side of the building. Have now practically walked the perimeter of the building in the search of the sodding entrance. Building reminds me of the Seven Sisters buildings in Moscow. Entrance finally found it’s a lift that whizzes up to the 33rd floor observation deck in 20 seconds at 6m/s. Poland’s fastest lift. Female lift attendant with a dodgy hairstyle and colouring sits on a little stool spending the whole day pushing buttons 1 and 33.

Amazing views from the top and like Koln Cathedral a reminder of how flat the landscape is.

We’re to depart on the 20hr overnight train to Moscow tomorrow so need some provisions. Carrefour is the nearest to hotel. The alcohol section is gated off and you have to purchase wines and spirits from a separate cashier. Stock up on bread, cheese, salami, nuts, olives and other snacks for tomorrow’s journey. Enter the gated alcohol section. Decide on a Jacobs Creek Shiraz Cabernet on account of the free travel corkscrew that comes with it. And a bottle of Jamesons. On account of the screwcap. Single malt is preferred, dear reader, but this invariably comes with a cork top. Touring Taurean’s Top Travel Tip: don’t travel with a cork top Single Malt whisky…there’s a risk it’ll come off in your bag. Lessons have been learnt, dear reader.

Long slow queue for the alcohol check out. Everyone is getting fractious especially when the cashier disappears for 10 minutes. Having paid for the alcohol at the dedicated alcohol check-out now have to queue at another till to pay for groceries. This is faff central. Put the wine and whisky on the conveyor simply so I can put it all in one bag. She scans the wine and then asks for the till receipt for the whisky which I show her. The grocery bill comes and I can see that she’s charged me for the already paid for wine. Pointing this out it’s made out that the wine has been cancelled. Don’t believe it but pay up and have to move to a side table to sort out the paper bag full of groceries and check the bill. Patently obvious she’s charged me for the wine. Pick the heavy paper bag up to go back to till but the entire top handle section rips apart from the main bag spilling contents everywhere.

Bugger.

Grumpy now.

The toss is argued in fluent, well spoken English. She in Polish. It’s going well, dear reader. You don’t need to understand any language as to what is being said. You can guess.

I’m right. She’s wrong. Takes some time, dear reader, for her to realise she’s wrong.

But we get there.

Now have to go to her supervisor. No one speaks English in the shop. That’s not a barrier though. Soon fully reimbursed the bottle of wine. And provided with two new plastic bags.

RTW 5. No overall majority

Friday, 7 May 2010

Warsaw, Poland

0300hrs by the time I got to bed last night. General Election in the UK yesterday. Stayed up to watch the results come in. Old friend emailing until the early hours over the results. David Cameron’s Conservatives need a national swing of 7% to win. Awake to discover it’s the Conservatives with no overall majority. A hung parliament. And so the bunfight begins.

So somewhat shattered as I board the train to Warsaw. A 6hr journey. Don’t worry, dear reader, am travelling First Class. Thinking it would be the same superb standard as the German ICE train.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

It’s a six seat compartment like in the old fashioned trains. You know. The ones you see in the old films. Three of us in this compartment as we depart Berlin Hauptbahnhof. A young Polish girl student studying English language textbooks on magnetics and geophysics. A middle aged Polish bloke. He sits in the middle seat one side. Whilst we sit either end on the other side. I with the window seat. Moderately comfortable as we can each stretch our legs out to the vacant seat opposite us. It works. It won’t last though.

Travel through a lot of forest which becomes quite hypnotic seeing green trees pass by for hours. Frankfurt an der Oder is the German/Polish border town but the train only stops at Rzepin, about 15 minutes further on the Polish side for border checks and to change engines.

Border guards with guns jump on inspecting all the undesirables. We three in our compartment are bypassed and ignored. Asians in adjacent compartment given a grilling.

Arriving at Poznan it’s clear the train is going to be full judging by the volume of people waiting on the platform. Having enjoyed reasonable comfort the compartment now becomes full. And cramped. Polish businessman with laptop asks to plug his computer into the socket by the window. Now have a power cable trailing over my head rest. Mother and son enter with bags galore along with a rather rotund woman with dodgy haircut and fashion. Your stereotypical East European.

Pass the time by reading my Lonely Planet Trans-Siberian guide book. Prompts the woman to ask if that’s where I’m going. Yes and explain that I’m actually travelling by train around the world. Which starts the whole compartment asking questions for the next twenty minutes.

Disembark Warsaw Central station only 10 minutes late. Its dark underground station reminds me of the horror of Birmingham New Street so quickly find my way to daylight and the Radisson Hotel (https://www.radissonhotels.com/en-us/hotels/radisson-collection-warsaw-centrum). After a 6hr rail journey a kilometre’s walk seemed like a good idea. With a 22kg rucksack it’s not.

Despite being an experienced traveller quickly realise Poland is not in the Eurozone and so all those euros I have on me are of no use. Zloty required.

It’s been a long day, dear reader. Looking forward to a nice long sleep.

2300hrs when the racket starts. Jack hammers and heavy machinery being used to prepare the road three floors below my hotel room for tarmacking through the night.

Right.

Not having that.

Grumpy ogre presents himself at reception.

Grumpy ogre gets an upgrade to a Business Class room.

Grumpy ogre not so grumpy.

RTW 4. Kiss and drop

Thursday, 6 May 2010

Berlin, Germany

Woken at the crack of dawn by a strange presence in my room. A 5 year old girl. Who greets me in a very posh English accent, “Good morning, Taurean”. Before jumping on me. This is way too early to be playing.

Quick waltz around Braunschweig visiting old haunts before popping in to my old office to see former colleagues. Now running late for the ICE train to Berlin so race back to the car for a quick zoom across town to the station and quickly deposited at the aptly named ‘Kiss and drop’ layby. What a great name for a drop-off point.

Every station should have a ‘kiss and drop’ point.

Now have two minutes to sprint across the concourse and find the platform. Not easy with a 22kg rucksack. Not for the first time have I had to sprint across this concourse. Although, admittedly it was usually 0559hrs and 30 seconds for the 0600hrs train to Frankfurt. German trains are never late. But. Not today. Train is delayed 15 minutes. Not the German efficiency I know and love.

Torrential rain and freezing cold in Berlin. So not much sightseeing I’m afraid, dear reader.

Check in to the Swissotel (https://www.swissotel.com/hotels/berlin/accommodation/swiss-advantage-room/). Located on Kurfurstendam. Berlin’s Oxford Street.

And close to the Times Bar. An art deco cigar bar.

My guilty travel secret. A Cohiba Siglo VI Cuban cigar.

A fine Cuban cigar.

A Rusty Nail.

A good book.

Solitude.

Life is good.

RTW 3. A mother’s memory

Wednesday, 5 May 2010

Braunschweig, Germany

Early departure to Koln on the Thalys train passing through Aachen. Have sentimental attachments to Koln and Aachen. Koln was the first place I worked as I moved to Germany in 1997. Aachen was where the research centre project I worked on was being built. Was only meant to be in Germany for a year. Loved it so much spent three years there. Forget France and Spain, dear reader. Give Germany a go for your next holiday. You’ll be surprised how much you enjoy it. And how friendly the people are. And most speak English.

Family history has also been traced and there’s a school of thought that a distant relation possibly came from Koln. So could be part German.

It would explain everything.

Koln’s domineering Gothic Cathedral is always magnificent and one of my favourite cathedrals. Very imposing and it’s a 533 step climb to the top of the tower. Quite frankly, I’m not getting any younger, dear reader, and may have had to stop for a breather. Once or twice. Stunning views with a flat as a pancake landscape reminds you you’re on the great North European Plain. Won’t see hills now until the Urals.

Back on the German ICE (Inter City Express) train to Braunschweig. The ICE trains are superb. The best in Europe. And ultra modern. Unlike the Wuppertal Schwebebahn we pass as we zoom by the city of Wuppertal. An 1898 monorail where the ‘train’ suspends from the rail. See video below. Used to travel Braunschweig-Koln and back by ICE each week for project meetings and always wanted to stop off in Wuppertal to travel on its monorail. But never did. Built over the river it follows its path for 13km.

Greeted at Braunschweig station by Miss Braunschweig. Lived in Braunschweig for three years between 1997 and 2000. We’ve been firm friends ever since. We’re practically twins. Born 25hrs apart. Dinner takes an interesting turn when she proclaims, “I’m in ze mood for telling you things!” Crikey. Well, dear reader, I find out stuff I never knew. But that’s for diary, dear reader. Not blog.

Being near the old West German/East German border at Helmstedt, Braunschweig was the first town the East Germans came to when the wall came down. Miss Braunschweig remembers the day they came. The whole town was full of Trabants polluting the city with their exhaust fumes belching out. The West German government were handing out 100 Deutsche Mark notes and bananas. Miss Braunschweig celebrated New Year’s Eve that year actually on the Berlin Wall near the Brandenburg Gate. So many people were celebrating and she recounts that when she jumped down to the east side of the wall she suddenly had this fear that the border would be locked again and she’d be captured in the east.

Meet her Mum when we get back who just happens to be watching a film called ‘Dresden’. Which gets us into conversation about World War 2 and her memories of the time.

Mum was born in 1936 and so a small girl during the war. She vividly remembers the night that 90% of Braunschweig was bombed by the British RAF. It was terrible. The horrific noise of the air raid sirens. The bombs screaming down. The night sky ablaze with fire. They lived in a village on the outskirts so, thankfully, weren’t in the direct line of bombardment but still had to hide in the air raid shelter. Mum’s father owned a factory making hats, shirts and coats and as such had to become a member of the Nazi Party. No choice in the matter. At the end of the war they were living in a large house in the best residential area of Braunschweig. One day the American Army knocked on the door at 1000hrs and told them to vacate their home by 1800hrs that day so the Americans could use the large house for their own purposes. The family had to comply. Fortunately the Americans came knocking and not the Russians. Mum’s father had said that if the Russians got close he would kill all his family rather than let the Russians loose on them as the Russians had a reputation for rape, torture and murder.

Mum’s father always carried cyanide on him just in case it came to that.

Just think about that for a moment, dear reader.

The family vacated the family home that day with most of their possessions and found somewhere else to live.

They’d had eight hours.

However, Mum had forgotten one of her dolls so went back to the house, on her own, the next day to see if she could get it. An American soldier saw her outside the house and she explained what had happened. American soldier lifted her over the barbed wire fence so she could go inside the house to retrieve her doll.

A few months later the British were in town (Bergen-Belsen concentration camp not being too far away) and one British soldier had some chocolate to hand out to the local children. Something they never had through the war, along with bananas. Mum looked at the soldier all sorrowful and head bowed. So he gave her extra chocolate.

Mum is giggling as she recalls this particular memory.

Lest we forget.

RTW 2. The Man In Seat 61

Tuesday, 4 May 2010

Brussels, Belgium

0500hrs alarm call. There’s only one 5 o’clock in my day. This isn’t it. Television bursts into life as the alarm. Scares the life out of me. Think I’ve got intruders in my room. Was expecting a phone call.

Grumpy little ogre.

No sleep you see.

Heave 22kg rucksack onto my back. Short walk down Euston Road to St Pancras for Eurostar to Brussells Gare du Midi.

Reserved seat 61 in recognition of The Man in Seat Sixty-One. Probably the best website dedicated to rail travel around the world. Check it out www.seat61.com. Invaluable in planning this journey.

Arrive Gare du Midi in Brussells. Had the unfortunate pleasure of doing this route just over a week ago. Working in Frankfurt, Germany, when the European airspace was closed due to volcanic ash in the atmosphere caused by a volcano erupting in Iceland. Colleague and I were stuck so took the train from Frankfurt via Koln, Brussels and London to Nottingham to get back home for the weekend.

Make my way to Heysel. Scene of ugly football hooliganism in 1985 when Juventus played Liverpool in the European Cup final. Not here for football though. It’s the location of Atomium (www.atomium.be). A scaled up version of the atoms in a ferrite crystal. Scaled up 165 billion times that is. At over 100m high it was built in 1958 for the Expo. Escalators take you up the structure in the tubes between the ‘atoms’ and each ‘atom’ has an exhibition on different aspects.

Back at ground level catch the first tram that comes along. Can’t find anywhere to buy a ticket. Jump on anyway. Will do my little lost foreign tourist act if ticket inspector pops up. No idea where we’re going. Am on a magical mystery tour. Spontaneity is the order of the day. End up in some dodgy suburb. You think Britain has immigration problems. Bloody hell. You should come to Brussells. It’s startling. The Lesser Spotted Taurean beats a hasty retreat.

Eventually find my way to more salubrious surroundings and find an open top Hop on/Hop off Red Bus. Seems like a good idea. There’s a red bus at the roadside. Waiting. Pay the EUR20 but then told I’ve got to walk 10 mins to the start and wait for a red bus. WHAT?!? What’s wrong with this bus? It’s always the same isn’t it. They lull you into thinking that it’s the bus where they take the money off you. Got wise to that over the years, dear reader.

Sadly, the lack of sleep last night takes its toll.

Nod off on the bus.

In so doing camera drops off my lap.

And smashes on the bus floor.

It’s only day two.

The sole reason for checking in to the Euro Capital Hotel (http://euro-capital.hotelsbrussels.net/en/) is that it’s across the road from the Gare du Midi station and suitable for an early start tomorrow.

Five star it is not.

RTW 1. You look trendy types

AROUND THE WORLD IN 60 DAYS BLOG – TENTH ANNIVERSARY

Well, dear reader, coronavirus lockdown continues so going to bore you with my Around the World in 60 Days trip I did in May and June 2010. This being the blog for the tenth anniversary. Travelled by train from Nottingham, across Europe to Moscow then the Trans Siberian Railway to Vladivostok before flying to South Korea and travelling by train down to the southern tip, ferry to Japan, train across Japan then fly to Vancouver and train all the way across Canada to Halifax before heading to St John’s and flying back to the UK.

The idea for this trip formed whilst waiting in the Business Class lounge at Manchester Airport back in January 2010 to board a flight to Doha, Qatar, for a business trip. Wanted something memorable to do for my 40th in April 2010. Originally was only going to do the Trans Siberian Express but when looking at the map realised I may as well continue eastwards to Canada. What started out as a two week trip trundling the tracks of the Trans Siberian turned into 60 days around the world. At the time this was the longest trip I’d ever done. Though as you’ve since read, it lay the foundations for more ambitious journeys.

So here goes. Fasten your seatbelts. Settle down, have a brew and enjoy armchair travelling with me around the world.

Monday, 3 May 2010

London, UK

Cold, wet and miserable when dropped off at the bus stop. Say fond farewells to family. Eldest niece bursts into tears. At least someone’s going to miss me.

Bus to Nottingham is full of the dregs of society. Train to London is full of the dregs of society. I’m in the minority. Young lad with baseball hat and baggy jeans (you know the sort) plonks himself down next to me and asks if I’m going to move my newspapers on the table in that ‘move them or I’ll stab you’ sort of way. Duly oblige.

Arranged to meet Girl 1 for afternoon tea in London. Was meant to be having dinner but this was downgraded to afternoon tea when Girl 2 rang to say she’d be in London tonight. Had to do a bit of delicate juggling. Can do delicate juggling when needs must. Didn’t go down too well with Girl 1. An opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, dear reader. Girl 1 suspects Girl 2 is the reason for downgrade. What a tangled web we weave. Hope they’re not reading this.

All around the world trips must start at the Reform Club. As Phileas Fogg and Michael Palin demonstrated. Head to Pall Mall to discover the door shut. It being a Bank Holiday. Make do with obligatory photos outside the door. Has to be done.

Farewell Girl 1. Hello Girl 2. Excellent dinner overlooking the city skyline. You know when you’re so engrossed in each other’s conversation you don’t realise where the time has gone? Well, dear reader, discover we’ve been talking and laughing so much that the restaurant has now shut and we’re the only people left. Along with the cleaner.

Taxi to another bar for nightcaps. Ask driver for recommendations. “You look trendy types”, says he. Which amuses. I’m about as trendy as a pair of 1970s brown flared trousers.

Eventually climb into bed at 0130hrs.

Have to be up in three and a half hours.

Someone’s going to be a grumpy little ogre in the morning.

NK 16. You want sexy girl?

Sunday, 23 April 2017

Beijing, China

Leisurely day trip to the Great Wall of China at Mutianyu. When I worked here in 1996, managed to grab a day trip to the wall at Badaling. Back then hired a car and driver for the day for about 2p. Substantially more now. Capitalist lot. Back then the car was a clapped out banger that barely made it there and back. Now it’s a modern taxi. With seatbelts. And air-conditioning and radio. Back then driver stopped off at a grotty unhygienic shack for his lunch whilst I ate a cheese sandwich from the breakfast buffet and a Snickers. Now I eat a cheese sandwich from the breakfast buffet and a Snickers. The more life changes. The more it stays the same. Back then the driver spoke no English and there were no mobile phones. Now the driver speaks a little English and has two smartphones. He’s communicating with his mate by recording WhatsApp voice messages. Wish he’d concentrate on driving. Back then it was bitterly cold, proper sub zero temperatures of around minus 10C. Now it’s a beautiful Spring day, blue sky and warm.

Chairlift up to the Great Wall section at Tower 6 for a walk to Tower 7 and back again and then descend by a metal toboggan run. The Great Wall has become a theme park.

Great Wall snakes along the mountainous terrain with watch towers every few hundred metres. Wall is very steep in places and about 10ft wide. Built over a number of centuries by various dynasties but the most well known sections were generally built around the 15th and 16th centuries. It’s about 13,000 miles long.

Fly back tomorrow on Lufthansa into Frankfurt and then back home. I’ll be sipping champagne, eating caviar and enjoying a fillet steak with a nice glass or two of red. This time tomorrow. In my First Class Suite. Oh yes. Looing forward to that.

Final night in the hotel.

Having had dinner, walk back to the lift to go to my room. As I walk across the lobby see a beautiful young Chinese girl talking on her phone.

She waves to me as though she recognises me. Can only assume it’s a member of the hotel reception team I’ve met at check in. Or some such thing.

Smile back not sure who she is.

She follows me into the lift.

I’m suspicious.

Let her choose her floor first and she goes to a public accessible floor. Bedroom floors requiring a key card.

Lift doors shut.

There’s just me and her.

She turns to me and says:

“You want sex massage…I call girl for you?” As she waves her mobile at me.

ER NO!

And with that she gets out at next floor saying:

“You’re a very big boy!”

 

Good night, dear reader, there endeth the North Korea blog. I hope it’s kept you mildly entertained and given you something else to read about other than coronavirus.

NK 15. Anything to declare?

Saturday, 22 April 2017

Beijing, China

0500hrs alarm for an early check out for the airport run. Hotel needs to check our rooms to ensure we haven’t stolen anything. Two in our group have twice been accused of stealing towels in two hotels when in actual fact the hotel hadn’t put towels there in the first place.

Bought a copy of the Pyongyang Times newspaper last night along with a watercolour painting in the hotel souvenir shop. What a palaver. The watercolour painting is rolled up in a tube. Suggest that she roll up the Pyongyang Times together with it to make it easier to pack. She replies, “It’s not allowed!” She has to roll up the Pyongyang Times separately, and carefully, in its own wrapping. Can’t be folded up.

The reason.

Dear reader.

Is this.

The front page has a photo of Kim Jong-Un. It is forbidden in the DPRK to fold a newspaper as that may cause a crease across Kim.

I.

Kid.

You.

Not.

Dear.

Reader.

It’s disrespectful.

Sunrise as we drive through deserted streets and wide boulevards and along the river road. Locals doing early morning exercises on the paths facing the sun. A sort of tai chi exercise. A long line of locals lined up along the river path silhouetted against the rising sun. The start of another beautiful day in the DPRK.

Each apartment balcony seems to have many flower pots with colourful flowers. Even at this early hour see locals planting grass or weeding grass verges and watering with a plastic bottle which has had holes cut in to act like a sprinkler. Make do and mend.

Arrive at the brand new airport terminal building which the DPRK should be rightly proud of. All gleaming and new. Our group are the only passengers in it.

Fill in the customs declaration and exit card. Getting ready for a right old hoo-ha trying to get out of the country. Fond farewells to our guides who have been fantastic, fun and friendly. Probably the best two tour guides I’ve had on a tour. Have been asked not to name them. So won’t.

Check in opens. Bag is x-rayed just behind the check in desk. Remember my USB flash drive with all my photos backed up is hidden in suitcase.

Heart sinks when suitcase pings up something on x-ray. Security man has found something he wants to investigate. Clucking bell. Do not want my photos of this memorable trip confiscating.

He shows me an item on the x-ray that has aroused suspicion. He’s young, very friendly and amiable and speaks good English. Not even I know what it is. Don’t think it’s the USB flash drive as I thought that was in another part of the case. He and I both have a rummage inside my suitcase trying to find the small rectangular metallic object. For the life of us, neither of us can find the object. Practically empty my belongings in the search for a small metallic object. After a lot more rummaging it’s clear it’s not in the main body of the suitcase. I only find the object by accidentally touching the lining of the outer pocket.

You’ll never guess what it was.

A metal miniature Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Ah ha. So that’s where it went!

Bought it a few weeks prior to my DPRK trip when in Florence and Pisa. Had completely forgotten about it. Pack suitcase and it’s finally put on the baggage handling conveyor. Complete with my USB flash drive. Relieved to watch it disappear. At least I’ve got a complete set of all my photographs out of the country.

Having faffed about with suitcase x-ray at check in I’m now last through hand luggage x-ray and body scanner. Have a long list of kit on my customs declaration form so anticipating a full interrogation of each electronic item to ensure nothing untoward is being taken out of the country. Preparing for the worst, you can imagine my surprise and delight when security just takes my customs declaration form and waves me through. WHAT?!?! No interrogation?!?! Oh come on guys. Just give me a little bit of a hard time so I can get that authentic totalitarian state experience. I’ve had more grief at Birmingham airport trying to get a jar of Marmite through security (still miffed about the loss of a jar of Marmite, dear reader, oh yes, still miffed). But no. It’s all very friendly and laid back. Not at all like it’s made out in the western media. A few months after returning to the UK a newspaper published some crappy photos of street life in the DPRK and remarked that they were ‘secret’ photos that had to be ‘smuggled’ out. Cobblers. Nothing like that at all. I’ve got more ‘risqué’ photos of life in the DPRK than those published. I’ve got photos of missiles and tanks and military and bridges and tunnels. Don’t believe everything you read in the press, dear reader.

Having already gone through the body scanner am asked to stand on a small step so the petite young female guard can waft her magic wand over me (that’s not a euphemism, dear reader). Towering much more over her now I’m on a step, drop my knees about a foot to try and come down to her level to make it easier for her. Her male colleagues crack up laughing. She’s giggling too at my antics and tells me it’s OK to stand properly albeit that she can’t now reach my shoulders.

Air Koryo flight takes off in good time and soon land in Beijing though could do without the 1hr queue through immigration on arrival.

Check in to the Hilton Hotel (https://www.hilton.com/en/hotels/bjscahi-hilton-beijing-capital-airport/). Have enjoyed the DPRK immensely but it is nice to get back to civilisation. And a phone signal. And internet connection. And contact with the outside world.

First thing is to check voicemails. Have had no phone signal for over a week. There’s a number of voicemails including one from Mum and two from Dad.

Dad never rings.

There must be something wrong at home.

Dad sounds panicked.

Dad doesn’t panic.

They both say they’re returning my voice message where I ask them to ring me back.

This was a voice message I left when I was at home a week or so before I left for the DPRK.

They’ve just discovered the voice message on the answerphone the past few days. They think it’s me ringing from the DPRK. They think it’s me ringing to say goodbye. I’m a human shield now.

A colleague has left a voicemail. The sort of colleague who doesn’t come across as caring and giving a toss about my welfare.

He sounds panicked.

Return their calls. It all becomes clear.

Remember, dear reader, we have had no contact with the outside world apart from the odd snippet on Al-Jazeera when in Pyongyang. We do not know what has been happening in the big wide world. Unbeknownst to us, it’s apparently all been kicking off whilst we’ve been away and the western media have been seemingly blowing things out of all proportion and that we’re heading for nuclear war with the DPRK.

Whilst little old me is on holiday in the DPRK.

Even old (as in longevity) friend’s mother was apparently concerned for my welfare.

NK 14. The Spice Girls

Friday, 21 April 2017

Pyongyang, North Korea

Quick waltz around the ski resort after breakfast. Patches of snow on the ski slopes still and chairs move slowly on the chair lift. Not sure why. We appear to be the only guests in the hotel. Hotel workers outside are wearing white fur hats to channel that Alpine look. Forbidden from taking photos though.

4hr drive back to Pyongyang back the way we came along the Bucking Bronco road but this time treated to stunning views as it’s a bright blue sky day rather than the rain storm we had coming.

Everyone is working the fields. See the odd tractor but mainly ox and plough which seems slow progress. Very mountainous region at first but soon opens out to a very wide valley with mountains either side. Less paddy fields and more soil based crops. Mobile loudspeakers atop a van play music to the farmers working their fields. For the cause.

Stop again at the Sinphyong Tea House about half way to Pyongyang. This time the reservoir is full so no locals scraping lake bed mud for fertiliser. The waitresses are undergoing staff training. Makes you wonder why. It’s not a busy road. It’s not a busy rest stop. There are no customers. Apart from us. Wearing high heels and bright red uniforms looks out of place in this place.

Told that state run farms account for 10% of the land whilst co-operative farms have 90% of the land. State farmers are paid as you would be in a factory and the state farms are generally mechanised (with ancient tractors). Co-operative farms are more manual work with ox and plough. Farmers work ten days then go to market to sell their wares. Income from which is put back into the co-op.

Also told that we are not allowed to ask questions about the Kims and that the DPRK has a right to defend itself and it is not for the USA to tell anyone that they can’t have nuclear missiles. The missile technology partly comes from Russia but is generally developed by DPRK scientists.

Approaching the outskirts of Pyongyang there’s a brief stop at the Monument to the Three Point Charter for National Reunification. A massive archway over the motorway topped by two female figures, their long flowing dresses forming the arches. South Korea is due to hold a general election soon and the liberal candidate wants to hold meaningful talks with the DPRK regarding reunifying the peninsula. Only time will tell.

Lunch in Pyongyang is fun and excruciating at the same time. Given a ‘concert’ by the local Spice Girls. Dressed in various costumes and doing a song and dance routine. They’re taking this seriously. Quite high pitched. I had to experience it dear reader. And so must you! See video below.

Having been to Moscow and marvelling at the underground stations I had an idea of what to expect in the Pyongyang Metro. Descending on a 150m long escalator find a cavernous station with ornate chandeliers. For some inexplicable reason, we are allowed to take photos of the trains and platforms but not the tunnels. As you will see, dear reader, I take a photo of a tunnel. Though not without some grumbling from the female platform attendant who is not liking my antics and a very nervous guide. But. I get the long exposure photo I want. But instructed to show the platform attendant the photo to make sure she’s happy that it doesn’t break the rules. Fortunately she is happy. Taurean charm you see.

All stations have an interactive map on the wall. You push a button of your destination and it illuminates the route. Board a train for the four stops to the Triumphant Arch. A crowded carriage and a few locals, including an old man and women, vacate their seats for the women in our group. Can you imagine that happening on the London Underground?! Quite.

At the designated stop we alight and it’s quite clear that as I jump off the train the natives are not expecting a 6’5” giant to appear from the carriage. Startled is one word I would use to describe their manner.

As we exit the station notice yet again a male and female milling around by the doors dressed in black. They look out of place and assume they’re State Security. Keeping an eye on us.

The Triumphant Arch has the date of 1925 inscribed in the stonework. The year when Kim Il-Sung left Korea vowing to gain independence. At 60m high there’s fortunately a lift inside to take us to a large high ceilinged hall which, in effect, straddles the sides and forms the top of the arch. Once outside on the viewing balcony at the 45m level we have amazing views across Pyongyang. Realise how colourful Pyongyang is with all the brightly painted buildings.

Down below us is the Kim Il-Sung Stadium with a capacity of 100,000 people. Its tarmac car park has tennis courts marked out. A couple of minivans with loudspeakers on the roof play music whilst people play tennis. There’s an obsession with loudspeakers playing music. For the cause.

Pass the Juche Tower, a 150m high tower with a 20m, 45 tonne, metal red flame atop, illuminated at night as a beacon across the city. Built in 1982 to celebrate the 70th birthday of Kim Il-Sung there’s apparently a stone for each day of his life. Now, dear reader, you’re probably wondering what ‘Juche’ means. It underpins the whole philosophy of life in the DPRK. At a very high level and in a nutshell…that of self sufficiency. It being two syllables ‘Ju’ meaning ‘master’ and ‘che’ meaning ‘one’s self’. It also extends to DPRK time as they use the Juche calendar. Juche time is counted from the Gregorian year 1912, the year of birth of Kim Il-Sung. So in 2017, it’s Juche 105.

Return to the Yanggakdo Hotel (www.north-korea-travel.com/yanggakdo-hotel.html) for a third and final time. Again, all in the same room as on the previous two occasions. Rather hoping that no one else has been using my room. The soap I was using from a few days ago is still in the soap dish. Quite attached to ‘my’ room. It has its little quirks. The bedside cabinet with a built in radio alarm clock that doesn’t appear to work but which has a lot of seemingly unnecessary cables for a radio alarm clock coming out the back. There are rumours that this hotel is bugged and that there’s a central communication room monitoring people on the infamous ‘hidden’ 5th floor. Just a rumour. But. You know. You’ll be Googling that now, won’t you dear reader.

Final night of the trip. Celebratory dinner to finish the tour off. Walk down Scientist Street to the restaurant. Scientist Street is lined with what appear to be superficially modern, brightly coloured new apartment blocks and offices in an assortment of interesting designs and architecture. So called as the ‘street’, well it’s a wide boulevard really, provides housing for the intelligent workers like scientists and teachers.

During the final night’s frivolity which included downing bottles of 25% proof rice wine (the noise level increased substantially as the wine level in the bottle went down) a few wise words from our guides. Delete any photos of military or we may get stopped at the airport in the morning. The authorities may either delete a particular photo or delete all images on the camera card. Depends how they feel.

So, dear reader, it’s a late night backing up photos on various sources in an attempt to get them all out of the country. Have read the horror stories. I’m not taking any chances.

Set 1. Laptop has all photos in an easy to find directory. The sacrificial lamb. In case it all goes Pete Tong.

Set 2. Laptop has a further directory hidden in the depths of various file paths with all photos copied there. You’d have to make a concerted effort to find them.

Set 3. SLR camera has all photos on the DCIM part of the memory card. The easy to find part of the memory card visible in the camera images preview. Sacrificial lamb number two.

Set 4. SLR camera has all photos copied on the USB data part of the memory card. The hidden part of the memory card that doesn’t show in the camera images preview.

Set 5. Compact camera has all photos on the DCIM part of the memory card. The easy to find part of the memory card visible in the camera images preview. Sacrificial lamb number three.

Set 6. Compact camera has all photos copied on the USB data part of the memory card. The hidden part of the memory card that doesn’t show in the camera images preview.

Set 7. A small USB flash drive with all photos backed up hidden in my suitcase.

Set 8. Mobile phone camera has its photos backed up.

So.

Think I’ve covered all bases.