Showing posts with label China-Beijing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label China-Beijing. Show all posts

Wednesday 13 January 2021

Tibetan Buddhism: Buddhist Temples, Monasteries and Buddha Images Part 3

Tibetan Buddhism - not Just in Tibet

The Tibetan Tradition

Buddhism probably arrived in Tibet from India in the 8th century. That makes it part of the Mahayana tradition, but as it includes many tantric practices and elements of Vajrayana, it is often treated as a separate branch of Buddhism.

Tibetan Wheel

I offer the above paragraph in good faith; I believe it to be accurate but I admit to not understanding some of the words. I have, though, observed that in Tibetan Buddhism, as in Mahayana, Buddha images often come in threes, Bodhisattva Maitreya (the Future Buddha), the Buddha, and Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (The Compassion Buddha). Bodhisattvas are important, as are fearsome images of guardians, but there seems less emphasis on Arhats. Like Theravada, Tibetan Buddhism has a strong monastic tradition. Only Tibetan Buddhists use prayer wheels, praying by rotating a wheel about a sacred text, and prayer flags where sacred texts blow in the wind.

Although Tibetan Buddhism has several independent branches, each having its own monasteries and leaders, they remain closely related. The Gelug (Yellow Hat) is the dominant school - not just in Tibet - and the most influential Gelugpa is the Dalai Lama.

Tibetan Monasteries

Tibetan Buddhism is not confined to Tibet, the map above shows the monasteries/temples covered in this post, though there will also be a surprise visit to Beijing. But I will start in the obvious place. We visited Lhasa in July/Aug 2005.

Tibet (officially the Xizang Autonomous Region, China)

Lhasa

Lhasa is an interesting city to visit. At 3,700m (12,000ft) most people suffer some effect of altitude; breathlessness, aching joints, sleep disruption or even a brief collapse. In midsummer the air is pleasantly warm though air-conditioning is not required.

Officially encouraged Han migration has resulted in half the 500,000 population being non-Tibetan. I deplore the destructive Chinese policy of squeezing the culture of ethnic minorities, though from an entirely selfish point of view, the Han presence - and the existence of a Nepali community - allowed us to eat well. Tibetans' own food never quite escapes the distinctive rancid flavour of yak butter.

The Jokhang Temple

The Jokhang Temple is the physical and spiritual centre of Lhasa. In summer the modest frontage on Barkhor Square was permanently semi-blocked by prostrating pilgrims. The interior was dark and the air dense with the smell of wood smoke and burning yak butter candles as devotees jostled to make their offerings.

Entrance to the Jokhang Temple, Lhasa

We escaped to the roof.

Lynne on the roof of the Jokhang Temple, Lhasa

The Potala Palace

From the Jokhang roof we looked across the Square to the dramatically sited Potala Palace the home of the Dalai Lama – though he has lived in exile since 1959.

The Potala Palace from the roof of the Jokhang Temple, Lhasa

Once you have acquired a ticket and turned many prayer wheels…

There are many prayer wheels to turn in Lhasa

…you have the freedom of the palace complex.

Inside the Potala Palace complex, Lhasa

The Drepung Monastery

Five kilometres outside Lhasa, Drepung is the largest monastery in Tibet. At its peak there were as many as ten thousand monks. There are now less than a thousand, and with tight Chinese control the monastery lacks the moral authority it once had, but when we visited in 2005 it seemed a thriving community.

Just Part of the Drepung Monastery Complex

It is a large complex on many levels on the side of Mount Gephel. Climbing from courtyard to courtyard up steps that were often more ladders than staircases was hard work. It was our second full day in Lhasa and the thin air took its toll. Lynne leaned against a wall to get her breath and then slowly slipped down to a seated position. Leaving her in the ticket office in the care of some solicitous and friendly monks....

Solicitous and friendly monks

...I continued alone.

Drepung Monastry

Sadly, she missed the hall full of monks chanting sutras.....

Chanting monks, Drepung Monastery

....the monk's prayer hall near the top of the complex...

Prayer Hall, Drepung Monastery

....and this view of a lone monk standing on a roof, surveying the world. A true son of Tibet, he stands behind the gold encased finials waiting for his kettle to boil.

Waiting for his kettle to boil, Drepung Monastery

As committed tea drinkers the Tibetans make the British look like amateurs. What I cannot understand, though, is why, once they have made a nice pot of tea they always stir in a dollop of yak butter. The advantage of yak butter is that never goes off, the disadvantage is that tastes like it has even when fresh.

Sera Monastery

At Sera monastery back in the city, the younger monks gather in a stony square two or three afternoons a week. The more senior monks test their juniors on points of Buddhist philosophy asking question in an aggressive if stylised manner.

Debating at Sera Monastery, Lhasa

I have heard that important as this once was, it is now just for tourists. Perhaps, but they entered into it with vigour and thought – and occasionally a little humour.

Mongolia

North from the Tibetan Plateau, across several hundred kilometres of dessert are the huge open grasslands of Mongolia, the least densely populated country in the world.

Buddhism was introduced to the nomadic empires of Mongolia in the 1st century CE though in time it faded into Shamanism.

In the early 13th century Genghis Khan united Mongolia and went on to rule the largest contiguous empire ever seen. It fragmented after his death, but his grandson Kublai Khan started out as ruler of most of Mongolia and northern China. By 1271 he had unified China and established the Yuan Dynasty. He introduced Tibetan Buddhism and monasticism into Mongolia, but after the demise of his dynasty in 1368, Mongolia again slowly relapsed into shamanism.

During the 16th Mongolian cultural revival Altan Khan, a warlord with an eye to reunifying the country made an ally of the Dalai Lama. Tibetan Buddhism returned to Mongolia and was reinforced by the Chinese Qing dynasty in the next couple of centuries.

Ulaanbaatar

In 2007 selecting the southern option of the Trans-Siberian Railway took us to Ulaanbaatar. Mongolians traditionally moved with the seasons, and Ulaanbaatar only settled on its present site in 1789. It is now home to 1.3 million, more than half the vast country’s population

Gandan Monastery

The first buildings of Ulaanbaatar’s Gandan Monastery were constructed in 1809. Buildings have come and gone, but the most impressive, the temple of Boddhisattva Avalokiteshvara was built in 1913.

Temple of the Boddhisattva Avalokiteshvara, Gandan Monastery

Gandan closed in 1938 as Mongolia's client government obediently followed Stalin’s anti-religious line. After the Second World War Stalin decided to make token acknowledgment of traditional cultures and religions across the USSR. The Mongolian government followed suit, reopening Gandan in 1948, though with many restrictions. Since the end of communism in 1990 all restrictions have been lifted, and there has been a resurgence of Buddhism.

(see Ulaanbaatar: Part 11 of the Trans-Siberian Railway)

Bürd Sum

Leaving Ulaanbaatar with a driver and local guide we drove 340 km to the Bürd Sum (district) of Övörkhangai Aimag (province) where we stayed with a local family. The first 50 km of the journey were on tarmac, the rest over open steppe. Övörkhangai is three times the size of Wales but the whole population would almost fit into the Principality Stadium.

(see Across the Mongolian Steppe: Part 9 of the Trans-Siberian Railway)

Shaman Shrine

Next day we visited Erdene Zuu. More driving across grassland brought us to a proper road. At the road junction was a shrine. Mongolian Buddhism has absorbed shamanism, and this is essentially a shaman shrine. We did the proper thing, which is to walk round it three times clockwise and placed a new stone on the top. Most passers-by contented themselves with a hoot on the horn.

A shaman shrine, Ovorkhangai Province

Kharkhorin, Övörkhangai Province

Ghengis Khan built his capital of Karakorum on the site of modern Kharkhorin in around 1220. Not being the settling down sort of guy, Ghengis soon moved on, though the city thrived for a while before being destroyed by a Ming army in 1388. Modern Kharkhorin is a major population centre, by Mongolian standards, with 13,000 inhabitants.

Erdene Zuu

The monastery of Erdene Zuu was built in 1585, using such remnants of Karakorum as were available. The boundary of the rectangular site is marked by 100 small stupas. 108 is the number of attributes of the Buddha, so either 8 stupas have been lost or somebody miscounted during the building process.

Erdene Zuu

The modern city of Kharkhorin sits under the black smoke in the distance - a rare example of Mongolian industry.

Stupas, Erdene Zuu

By the end of the 19th century there were over 60 temples on the site, but in 1939 most were destroyed by the communists.

Surviving Temple, Erdene Zuu

All the surviving temples are open to visitors.

Inside a temple, Erdene Zuu

In 1990 the site was handed back to the monks and Erdene Zuu became an active monastery again.

Monk taking a prayer wheel for a walk, Erdene Zuu

(see With the Mongolian Nomads: Part 10 of the Trans-Siberian Railway)

Buryat Republic, Russia

Our previous stop on the Trans-Siberian had been at Ulan Ude, the capital of Buryatia, one of the constituent republics of the Russian Federation. Buryats are ethnic Mongolians, and so Buddhists, but Buryatia has been Russian since the seventeenth century. Then, Inner and Outer Mongolia struggled under imperial Chinese rule while the Buryats traded with the incoming Russians and enjoyed comparative freedom and prosperity.

Ivolginsk Datsan

Before the Russian Revolution, there were hundreds of Datsans in Buryatia and thousands of monks, but by the 1930’s the Datsans had all been closed and the monks dispatched to the Gulags. In the 1940s Stalin decided it was time for more religious tolerance and so a Datsan was constructed at Ivolginsk, 30 km west of Ulan Ude. It opened in 1947 on a site carefully chosen by astrologers.

Ivolginsk Datsun, near Ulan Ude

The architecture and decoration of the Johkang Temple, Potala Palace and Drepung Monastery in Lhasa are almost identical. Gandan and Erdene Zuu are cut from similar cloth, but the main building at Ivolginsk, 3,000 km north of Lhasa, looks, unsurprisingly, less Tibetan and ever so slightly Russian.

The Temple at the Ivolginsk Datsun, near Ulan Ude

…but from some angles the Tibetan look predominates.

Tibetan style stupas, Ivolginsk, near Ulan Ude

Andre, our Christian European Russian guide was here when the Dalai Lama visited this outpost of his flock in the 1980s. He was very taken by his serenity and almost tangible charisma.

Prayer wheels, Ivolginsk Datsun, near Ulan Ude with Tibetan script (her right) and Mongolian script

(see Ulan Ude (1) Buddhists, Old Believers and an Enormous Head of Lenin: Part 6 of the Trans-Siberian Railway

China

Or, more accurately, China again as Tibet is part of China. Chinese Buddhism follows the Mahayana tradition, but that does not mean there are no ‘Tibetan pockets.’

Beijing

The Dalai Lama fled Tibet in 1959 over his disagreement with the Chinese authorities. He is a man of integrity and peace from whom the Chinese could learn much, but instead they regard him rather like the Americans regarded Osama bin-Ladin. It was not always that way.

Stupa, Beihai Park

Beihai Park, just north of Beijing’s centre was allegedly created by Kublai Khan. The stupa on the artificial island was built to commemorate the visit of a 17th century Dalai Lama to Beijing.

Stupa on the artificial island, Beihai Park, Beijing

(see Beijing (2): Xicheng and Beihai Park. Part 2 of Beijing, North Korea and Shanxi)

Yonghe Gong

The Yonghe Gong was our first ever Buddhist temple on out first ever visit to Beijing. It is a rare example of a Tibetan Temple in the Han heartland, though I doubt we realised that at the time.

It was built in 1649, as a residence for court eunuchs. It then became the palace of Prince Yong, who turned part of the complex into a lamasery when he became emperor in 1722. On his death in 1733 Tibetan Buddhists were invited to take over the whole site. Developments since then have produced buildings which mix Tibetan and Chinese styles.

Lynne at the Yonghe Gong

The temple complex survived the Cultural Revolution and re-opened to the public in 1981. One of the charms of the place is that after so many years of religious repression many would-be devotees do not seem sure of what they should be doing.

Uncertain worshippers, Yonghe Gong

The temple contains a remarkable 18m high statue of the Buddha carved from a single piece of sandalwood.

Maitreya Buddha carved from a single piece of sandalwood, Yonge Gong, Beijing

India

Buddhism has all but died out in the country of its birth, but it is still possible to see dramatic Buddhist temples

Kushalnagar, Karnataka

The Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government-in-exile live in Dharamsala in the extreme north of India. We have not been there, but in 2010 we visited the small town of Kushalnagar in the southern state of Karnataka - as far south of Lhasa as Ulan Bator is north - where the state government has settled 10,000 exiled Tibetans.

Namdroling Monastery

As well as the usual secular requirements of any settlement, there are two Gelugpa monasteries and the much larger Namdroling Temple which follows the Nyingmapa tradition from Eastern Tibet.

Namdroling Monastery, Kushalnagar, Karnatica

As can be seen both from the outside and the interior, Namdroling is well financed. It is known as ‘The Golden Temple’- and with good reason.

Interior of Namdroling - The Golden Temple, Kushalnagar

The temple looks typically Tibetan and even displays a trio of Buddhas - as promised in the introduction. July in Lhasa had been pleasantly warm but air-conditioning was unnecessary, people merely left doors and windows open and allowed in the fresh, if rather thin, air. At other times of the year it can be viciously cold. February in Kushalnagar was hot and humid (it is equally hot, though far wetter in the monsoon season) and the vegetation around the temple could not have been less Tibetan. Namdroling looked like an exotic transplant from a faraway land.

Namdroling, The Golden Temple, Kushalnagar

Buddhist Temples, Monasteries and Buddha Images

Part 1: Introduction
Part 2: Mahayana Buddhism
Part 3: Tibetan Buddhism
Part 4: Theravada (1) Sri Lanka
Part 5: Theravada (2) Myanmar
Part 6: Theravada (3) Laos, Cambodia & Thailand

Saturday 21 September 2013

Beijing (3), A Duck and a Rant: Beijing and Shanxi Part 6

"Gungo smiley face Harvey Ball"
legend seen on a tee-shirt, Beijing*

Successful Searches for Roast Duck (Easy) and 'Tea Tools' (More Challenging)

Whatever Happened to the Friendship Store?

People's Republic of China

We walked 2km along Dongchang’an Jie, first retracing our steps of two weeks ago to the Ming Observatory, and then continuing over the Jianguomen flyover in the direction of the Friendship Store. This venerable institution, once open only to foreigners, diplomats and high ranking officials, was created to ease the lives of the Soviet experts sent to assist with China's economic development in the 1950s. In the early days of western contact it was the only place the new western tourist could shop. Not allowed local currency (as in North Korea now) the Friendship Stores were the only places they could spend their Foreign Exchange Certificates. They sold good quality Chinese arts and crafts, western luxuries and uncensored western newspapers while guards on the doors kept out the ordinary people. Foreign Exchange Certificates disappeared in the 1990s, western luxuries became widely available and restrictions on who could use the shops were abolished.

Crossing the Jianguomen flyover

We first visited the Beijing Friendship Store in 2004. In 2007 it was still the best place for Chinese oddities - the particular bamboo trays needed for tea ceremonies for instance - but the Friendship Store concept was beginning to look dated. This time our mission was to find a set of tea tools - our daughter wanted them to go with her tray.

As we should have expected, the Friendship Store is no more. The building was still there, draped with banners bearing names you can find in every major city on earth (except Pyongyang). I cursed Armani and Versace, and Baskin Robbins whose stall is next door and u-bloody-biquitios Mc-sodding-Donalds for their homogenisation of the globe. ‘Our world is a duller, less varied place because of you,’ I thought as I readjusted my Ray-Bans on my nose (and I cursed Ray-Bans too, smug in the knowledge that I bought mine for £2.40 in a Buddhist Temple in Myanmar, so I know they were genuine fakes).

Having failed in our tea tool mission we made the long walk back and found a place near the station that would sell us a coffee - not a drink much liked by the Chinese and not easy to get if you are determined to avoid what our daughter calls with a shudder ‘the Scottish Restaurant’ (though Ronald McD is no sort of Celt I recognise).

Along Dongchang’an Jie to Wanfujing Walking Street

Back at our hotel we showered, changed and checked out before returning to Dongchang’an Jie, this time heading west towards the city centre. Walking slowly in the hot sunshine it took us a while to reach Wangfujing, one of Beijing’s main shopping streets.

Dongchang'an Jie - not quite the last bicycle left in Beijing

Much of Wangfujing is pedestrianised, what the Chinese call a ‘walking street’, and we made a gratifying detour round the huge queue at the Jasmine Ice Cream stall – Chinese produced ice cream with an essentially Chinese flavour and nothing to do with Baskin Robbins.

Wangfujing Walking Street

Shuaifuyuan Hutong and Quanjude Roast Duck

We turned right into Shuaifuyuan Hutong, a small street decorated in such a way that, had it been in anywhere else in the world, we would have called it ‘Chinatown’. The Chinese relish playing up to their stereotype sticking plastic Ming gables and red paper lanterns everywhere. On one side of the street is a jiaozi (dumpling) restaurant, and everyone from out of town has to have their photograph taken with their statue. Lynne saw no reason to be different.

Lynne wants a jiaozi, off Wangfujing, Beijing

Our goal, though, was the restaurant opposite. Having failed on our quest for roast duck at Bianyifang on Lynne's birthday we had decided to herald our departure with a duck lunch at Quanjude, the oldest and perhaps finest duck restaurant in Beijing. After a tricky day’s negotiating it was over roast duck at Quanjude that Henry Kissinger and his Chinese counterparts patched up their differences.

Quanjude Duck Restaurant, Shuaifuyuan Hutong, off Wangfujing, Beijing

The restaurant is expensive, by Chinese standards. Beers were 25 Yuan (£2.50) each; the previous evening our entire dinner (including two of the same beers) came to less than 50, but here we were paying for the ambience and the theatre.

Our duck was wheeled out by a young man in a chef’s hat, surgical mask and latex gloves who set about carving it for us. We had a brief demonstration of how to fold a pancake round spring onion and slices of duck smeared with plum sauce – a task we had failed at before and failed at again. Looking round the room we were gratified to find that other diners – overwhelmingly Chinese – were equally inept.

Carving our duck, Quanjude Duck Restaurant, Wangfujing, Beijing

The questionable structural integrity of the wraps did not detract from our enjoyment and just as we finished the leg and breast meat, along came the soup and the wings and other bits to nibble.

I love duck but a question remains unresolved: for my final meal on earth would I prefer duck in Beijing or confit de canard beside the Dordogne (before, of course, fresh pineapple and coconut ice cream)? Further research will be necessary.

We ate a whole duck between us, which cost £35, extravagant by Chinese standards but cheaper than the bottle of wine which accompanied our wedding anniversary meal at the Yorke Arms in Pately Bridge.

Quanjude Duck Restaurant, Beijing

In Search of Tea Tools

We left Quanjude happy and replete and applied ourselves to the serious business of finding tea tools. And what are tea tools, you ask? They are a collection of nicely polished wooden scoops, prodders and brushes; the Swiss Army Knife of the tea ceremony.

Wangfujing has several of what appear to be department stores, so we wandered into the nearest confident that a Chinese department store would have a tea department. It was not, we discovered a department store, at least not one I would recognise. I might be out of touch, the department store is not my natural environment, but last time I was in one it consisted of departments selling various related items. This store housed a series of individual stalls, each selling one particular brand name, some we knew and others we had never heard of. There were six floors like this - yes, we went up the escalator to the top and checked every single one with a growing feeling of disbelief. As market stalls go they were certainly posh, some were larger than many shops, but market stalls were what they were and clothes were pretty well all that was on offer.

We tried another ‘department store’ and it was the same. Brand names here are everything. For the second time that day I found myself cursing Jimmy Choo, Hugo Boss and their ilk. I am sure there are people in the west who are obsessed with brand names and feel themselves naked without an Armani suit or Gucci handbag, but I doubt there are very many and they include nobody I know (or want to know). The Chinese have a fascination with all things western and the advertising campaigns of Vuitton, Versace and others are attempting to convince (have already convinced?) a gullible section of the newly wealthy that brand names are the pinnacle of western culture. When they eventually see through it, and see through it they will, the Chinese view of western culture will have been damaged beyond repair. If all we have to offer is KFC and Oakley sunglasses, then we truly are culturally bankrupt.

Rant over.

On a lighter note, the obsession with western culture has led the sweatshops of Guangdong to produce tee-shirts by the million bearing slogans in English, very few of them making any sense. For some choice examples see the top of this, and the preceding three posts (here, here and here).

We eventually found a tea shop giving tastings and actually using tea tools. We inquired, mainly by mime, whether they had any for sale. The assistant looked blank, but fetched a colleague whose more agile mind deduced what these weird foreigners were after. We soon became the proud owners (if only until we passed them on to our daughter) of the cool tools below.

Tea tools

The Art Exhibition Scam

Leaving Wangfujing we continued to the city centre. On the way we encountered, and not for the first time, the 'art exhibition scam'. A couple of personable young people fall into step with you and strike up a conversation. After a while they tell you they are art students and invite you to their end of year exhibition. The idea is that you go to the show and pay high prices for cheap mass produced prints in the belief that you are buying the student’s own work and helping fund their education. We did not fall for it in 2004 when we first visited Beijing and were not going to fall for it this time, though Dan Cruikshank did when he was filming 'Round the World in 80 Treasures'. I don't think the story was in the TV series, but he writes about it in the book.

Tiananmen Square

We rested on a low wall near the portrait of Mao in Tiananmen Square. During a ten minute sit we were approached by two different touts selling guided tours to the Great Wall. They each gave us business cards, should we change our minds. They were identical except for the name.

Near the portrait of Mao, outside Tiananmen Square,Beijing with a bag of tea tools

We walked to the entrance of the Forbidden City but did not go in - we did that in 2004. The Forbidden City is big and to do it justice requires several hours. After a long, hot walk we lacked the energy.

Instead we decided to stroll across Tiananmen Square. On our previous visits we had merely walked through the underpass and emerged on the square, but now we had to negotiate a security check. There is nothing the Chinese authorities like more than a bit of intrusive security to remind the people who is in charge. [a month later (28/10/13) a car was driven deliberately into the crowd by the entrance to the Forbidden City and burst into flames killing five (three of them the occupants of the car). ‘Security’, I repeat, exists to remind people who is in charge, it rarely makes anyone safer.]

Tiananmen Square, a vast concrete wasteland

Despite some imposing buildings around it, and Mao's mausoleum in the centre (we visited him in 2004, too) Tiananmen Square is largely an ugly expanse of bare concrete. It is a vast space and there is usually an event of some sort going on and a soldier or two prowling round to ensure everybody behaves decorously, but the only thing worth seeing, apart from Mao's mausoleum, is the Qianmen Gate at the southern end.

Qianmen Gate, Tiananmen Square

After seeing that there was not much to do except descend to the adjacent metro station and head back to our hotel to pick up our cases before setting off for the airport and the start of the long journey home.

*Gungbo (not gungo) is the pinyin transliteration for a dish of chicken, chillies and peanuts which might produce a smiley face. Harvey Ball was a commercial artist credited with designing the 'smiley face'. Unlike the others, which are pure gibberish, this tee-shirt has some sort of narrative, or at least stream of consciousness. How aware of the narrative the designer was is another issue.

Beijing, North Korea and Shanxi

Saturday 7 September 2013

Beijng to Pyongyang: North Korea Part 1

First Steps into the Hermit Kingdom

Beijing Airport


People's Republic of China
After a leisurely breakfast, we made our way back to Beijing airport. There are many things I like and admire about China and the Chinese, but there are also things that irritate me. Their tendency to rebuild instead of restore is one we met yesterday; today we had to confront the Chinese love of over-strict adherence to rigid and nonsensical rules, particularly where security is concerned. Slow, but apparently inexorably, liberalisation has deprived the government of much of its control of people’s everyday lives. Western governments know they can get away with almost anything in the name of security (‘well you can’t be too safe’ as people meekly say instead of railing against another loss of freedom), so it would be surprising if the Chinese government did not try to claw back some sense of their waning omnipotence by imposing ‘security’ anywhere and everywhere they can.

I had already been mildly irritated by the need to manhandle our baggage though the X-ray scanners on metro stations, but then we got to the airport. All airports are security conscious; they all want laptops X-rayed separately, but only in Beijing does the same apply to umbrellas. Everybody received a full pat-down search regardless of what the metal detector said, and our bag was closely examined, emptied and X-rayed again with everything containing any metal - coins, sunglasses, cameras – being re-X-rayed separately. A great deal of patience was required, but eventually we got through with everything we started with, unlike our Hotan experience in 2008.

By Air Koryo to Pyongyang, North Korea


Democratic People's Republic of Korea
(North Korea)
The inhabitants of the economy class cabin in our Air Koryo flight to Pyongyang – one of two that day – were all foreigners, mainly British and German. The small business class section was stuffed with important Koreans.

Air Koryo were banned from flying into the EU in 2006, but in March 2010, they were allowed to resume flying into Europe but only using their new Tu-204 aircraft, which complied with international safety standards. There are no flights to Europe at present. I have a (not totally unfounded) prejudice against Russian built aircraft, but we were on a relatively new Tupolev (perhaps one that is fit to visit Europe) and the short journey from Beijing to Pyongyang passed without incident.

The Moranbong Band

TV screens showed a performance by the Moranbong Band, sometimes described as ‘North Korea’s Spice Girls’, the members being personally selected by Kim Jong-Un himself (and can we guess what that means?). Like the Spice Girls they deal in instantly forgettable pop melodies, but with titles like 'Let's Study' and 'Our Dear Leader'. The black clad musicians behind are also band members and the camera lingered on them as much as on the singers, so they could show the back-projection of soldiers parading, rockets being launched and war being prepared for.

The Moranbong Band, North Koreas 'Spice Girls'
Copyright probably DPRKMusicChannel

Air Koryo In-Flight Catering and Usher's Brewery

In-flight catering was a bun containing a pork patty. We were unsure if this is what Koreans eat or a nod towards perceived western preferences [Next day (see part 4), we saw similar buns being eaten in Korean picnics, which probably answers the question].

Beer was poured from a 750ml bottle. A darkish lager with a definite flavour of malted barley, it was surprisingly good and considerably better than any Chinese brew (which is not setting the bar that high). In the late 1990s the venerable bewers Ushers of Trowbridge fell into the hands of a private equity company and, as night follows day, closed in 2000. The brewery equipment was sold, lock, stock and very literally, barrel to North Korea. It is now used by the Taedonggang brewery, just outside Pyongyang. Apart from our slightly strange visit to a brewpub (see part 4), we drank only one brand of beer in North Korea (consumer choice is not a big deal in the DPRK) so it was probably Taedongang (the label was uninformative to those illiterate in Korean). I like to think the brewers were guided by the ghost of Thomas Usher.

Arriving in North Korea

Except for asking our race - I wanted to put ‘human’ but after some discussion we both left the space blank - the landing cards were standard. The customs form, though, was a work of art. After the usual currency declaration we were asked to list our belongings. ‘What, every sock and knicker?’ we asked ourselves but settled for admitting the possession of three cameras. In another space we were required to list all publications we had brought with us. I admitted to one novel. On the plane from England I had been reading Rudyard Kipling’s ‘Kim’. L realised just before leaving the hotel that this was probably not the most tactful book to take into North Korea. Kipling’s Kim could hardly be confused with the Eternal President (Kim Il-Sung 1912-94) or his son the Dear Leader (Kim Jong-Il 1941-2011) or grandson The Marshall (Kim Jong-Un, born 1983) but you cannot expect a Korean Customs Officer to have an in-depth knowledge of British imperialist fiction. I took another book and left Kim in Beijing.

Pyongyang airport is tiny (2 baggage carousels, though only one was needed) and the passport and customs checks less fearsome than expected. The immigration officer did not like the unanswered race question and handed L’s card back to be completed. Behind her, I tried to write ‘Caucasian’ in the tiny space, with the card balanced on my hand and without bothering to put on my glasses. What I actually wrote could have been anything - chimpanzee, chestnut, chaffinch - but as long as the space was filled he was happy.

The customs official was brought up sharply by ‘three cameras’ and fearing he might be faced with something as dangerous as a journalist, he demanded to see them. When three compact digital cameras emerged from L’s handbag, he laughed and waved us through. I did not know whether to be relieved or insulted.

We had been told that mobile phones would be confiscated for the duration, so we had left ours in Beijing. That was, though, not the case; they contented themselves with merely noting numbers.

The young woman who would be our guide read out the names of the people she wanted, all forenames and surname which caused a little hilarity. She stopped, confused and somebody explained that may be the Korean way, but we prefer just first and last names and keep any others as guilty secrets. She then descibed us all as 'delegates', which furrowed a few foreheads, and led us to a waiting bus for the 20-minute drive in to Pyongyang.

First Impressions of Pyongyang

A smart new tractor was working in a field beside the airport access road. The highway into Pyongyang was wide and in good condition, but virtually empty. We saw three more tractors before we reached the city, that would be half our total for the whole week.

A Working Tractor near Pyongyang Airport

We also passed an advertisement. Pyeonghwa (Peace) Motors, a joint venture between the North Koreans and a Seoul-based company owned by Sun Myung Moon (he of the ‘Moonies’), is the only company to advertise in North Korea. They have several billboards and run television ads – though I never managed to watch North Korean television long enough to see one. As the number of people who can afford cars is vanishingly small we wondered who these ads were aimed at. The factory, in Nampho can produce 10,000 cars a year. In 2009 it sold 650.

Peace Motors Advertisement
The only billboard in North Korea

We reached Pyongyang at 5.30 pm, which anywhere else would be rush hour. Where is the traffic? Where are the people? The guides had no answers to these questions. As Pyongyang was the only city they had ever seen, they saw nothing strange in the wide, empty streets.

Rush hour, Pyongyang

The Yanggakkdo Hotel

Foreigners are corralled in the Yanggakkdo Hotel, a tower at one end of an island in the Taedong River - a safe place to put us. At the other end is a half built sports stadium and the vast and extremely ugly concrete cinema used for the Pyongyang Film Festival, a nine-day extravaganza held every two years. We were permitted to walk out of the hotel and down to the tip of the island without a minder. There hardly seemed any point.

The Yanggakdo Hotel, Pyongyang

Our room could have been in any mid-range international hotel anywhere in the world. We switched on the TV and found there was the one North Korean channel, several Chinese channels, the BBC World service with the sound (deliberately?) blurred and an English language Japanese channel. The guides stayed on a dedicated floor in the same hotel, but with only one channel on their TVs.

The Taedong River from the Yanggakdo Hotel, Pyongyang

We went down to the bar for a beer and joined some other members of our group. I wanted to know what sort of people go to North Korea on holiday. The answer started to emerge that evening and by the end of the week was clear – normal people (at least in so far as L and I are normal). In some ways our group was varied, ages ranged from twenties to seventies, some couples, some singles and a sprinkling of people tacking a North Korean jaunt onto the end of a Chinese business trip. What we all had in common was a lively curiosity about the world in general and, at least for that week, about North Korea in particular. Well travelled, well educated and well informed is not, I think, too flattering a summary.