Travelling Around Britain and the World

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.

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Location: Pyongyang, North Korea

Friday, 6 September 2013

Beijing (2): Xicheng and Beihai Park. Beijing and Shanxi Part 2

Day 2 of our Third Visit to Beijing: Time for some Lesser Known Sights


People's Republic of China
We spent the next day, Lynne’s birthday, in Beijing, settling our heads into the right time zone before heading off to Pyongyang. Having seen the city’s major attractions on other visits we decided this time to explore the Xicheng district north of Tiananmen Square.

Beijing's Xicheng District

We took the metro round the circle line to Fuchengmen (not to be confused with Fuxingmen, the previous stop) and walked up Fuxingmen Street towards Fuchengmen Street, which crosses it at right angles. Following me so far?

The House of Lu Xun

On the north side of Fuchengmen we paused at the former residence of Lu Xun. According to our aged Rough Guide we were in for an overly reverential look at the life of a writer who was not keen on undue reverence, but at least his old house would give us an idea of how well-off Beijingers lived a hundred years ago. Not so, his courtyard dwelling has been completely rebuilt as a modern museum.

Lu Xun, we learned, originally trained as a doctor. In Japan he was forced to accompany a squad of Chinese soldiers to witness the execution of one of their comrades. Observing how some of the soldiers seemed to enjoy the spectacle, he concluded that China’s sickness was in the head not the body, so he gave up medicine for writing in the hope that his work might contribute to a cure.

He lived, as the Chinese curse goes, ‘in interesting times’. First he opposed the Qing Emperors and then the warlords who took over the north when the empire fell. Later he became disillusioned by the Kuomintang but never quite brought himself to join the communists, though Mao admired his work. Although one side or the other seems to have executed most of his friends, Lu Xun survived to die of tuberculosis in 1936.

Lu Xun's house, Beijing

The museum preserves some of his household objects which are, for the most part, unremarkable, but a multitude of well-chosen photographs tell the story of his life through the turbulent years of the early 20th century. Surprisingly, for a museum about a man I had never heard of, it was fascinating and - even better - free. [I have since read his complete works of fiction - three volumes of short stories published by Penguin in a single volume of 300+ pages. They give a fascinating insight into life in early 20th century China, and into the Chinese way of thinking, often very like ours, sometimes surprisingly different].

A Parade of Shops and a Hutong

Continuing along Fuchenmgen we passed what seemd at first to be a pleasing row of old shops, most of which seemed to be selling sport’s trophies. But in Beijing you can never be sure whether these are early 20th century originals, or brand new fakes.

Sports' trophies shops, Fuchengmen Inner street, Beijing

Foresaking the main drag, we ambled down one of the hutongs, past the sort of courtyard houses that were home to most Beijingers before they were bulldozed and replaced by high-rise flats. It was an interesting walk through the real, if unglamorous life of the city.

Lynne in a hutong off Fuchengmen Inner Street, Beijing

This hutong was genuine, but many of those that survive have being restored (or rebuilt) as tourist attractions. After forty years destroying everything old in the name of ‘modernisation’, the Chinese have rediscovered their heritage. This is undoubtedly a step in the right direction, but they have yet to grasp the distinction between ‘restoring’, ‘rebuilding’ and outright ‘faking’, so this new enthusiasm sometimes does as much damage as the old one. Extensive building is going on along Fuchengmen, not of high-rise flats but of new traditional style houses, as self-consciously archaic as thatched cottages in Islington.

Baita Si

Returning to Fuchengmen and continuing east we reached Baita Si a dagoba dating from the Yuan Dynasty (Kublai Khan and his descendants). The 35m high 13th century dagoba towers over the surrounding hutongs – but not as much as the scaffolding does. The complex was closed for ‘restoration’, a word which rings alarm bells in China.

Baita Si and some scaffolding

The Temple of Ancient Monarchs

We soon reached the Temple of Ancient Monarchs. Originally built in 1530 during the Ming dynasty, it had a major makeover under the Qing in 1729. It may have had another more recently as the wood looks new and the paint is sparkling and fresh. I cannot believe the temple fared well under Mao or during the Cultural Revolution. It is not mentioned in my 2002 Rough Guide and journalists were invited to an opening, of sorts, during the 2008 Olympics. Clearly, what we saw was heavily restored, if not entirely rebuilt.

There are three halls, with the usual urns in front.....

Urn, Temple of Ancient Monarchs, Beijing

.....and stele riding on the backs of turtles (as the always do in Confucian Temples) to the side.

Lynne and a stele riding on the back of a turtle, Temple of Ancient Monarchs, Beijing

In the Great Hall each of the 167 emperors on the approved list, whether real or mythical (the list goes back to 2000BC), has a section - not quite a chapel - devoted to him. The emperors may have lived in the Forbidden City and communed with the regular gods at the Temple of Heaven, but they came here to worship their predecessors. What better religion could an emperor hope to promote? This thought resurfaced regularly in North Korea where the Kims have gone about the business of ancestor worship in a style that would make the Ming blush and might even have impressed the Emperor Augustus and Pharaoh Rameses II.

Great Hall, Temple of Ancient Monarchs, Beijing

If ancestors are gods, they need to be prayed to, and prayers can be helped on their way by writing them on silk and burning them in the green toilet-tiled incinerators by the entrance.

Prayer incinerator, Temple of Ancient Monarchs, Beijing

We just about had the place to ourselves - Beijing has enough major monuments from this era to keep tour operators happy - and I cannot imagine many people bothering to venture to this ‘new’ attraction on a first, or even second, visit to the city.

Guangji Si: Chinese Buddhist Association Headquarters

Next stop, still on Fuchengmen, was Guangji Si, headquarters of the Chinese Buddhist Association. Originally built in the 12th century, most of what can be seen now is (genuine) Ming. It has some important sculptures and pictures which we missed but, despite its age, it is fairly ordinary as Buddhist temples go. (For the Yonghe Gong, probably Beijing’s most interesting Buddhist temple, see Tibetan Buddhism). It also has many closed doors behind which are, I assume, offices - as you might expect at the headquarters of an association.

Incense incinerator, Guangji Si, Beijing

Lunch on Fuchingmen

At the end of Fuchingmen a right and left put us on Xianmen Street still heading east and, as it was lunchtime, we stopped at the first available restaurant. We ordered two bowls of soup – which was an error; one would have been plenty, but you cannot always tell from the menu pictures.

The first was disappointingly bland with floating tofu and gelatinous noodles, though redeemed by strips of fresh, fiery ginger. The other was more interesting, brown with an egg whisked into it, assorted vegetables, strips of spam-like meat and black mushrooms, all well spiced, mainly with pepper. It was not a memorable meal but at under £4 (including two half litres of beer) we could not complain.

Beihai Park

We continued to Beihai Park. Reputedly created by Kublai Khan whose landscapers created an artificial lake with an equally artificial island. It was turned into a classical Chinese garden by the Emperor Qianlong (reigned 1735-96) and later became a favourite haunt of Jiang Qing, the widow of Mao and notorious member of the ‘Gang of Four’.

Kublai Khan’s lake still occupies much of the park and we strolled up the west side looking in at the various heavily restored palaces and pavilions, though sadly the information supplied on site was rather sparse.

The lake, island and dagoba, Beihai Park, Beijing

We took the obligatory boat ride over to the island, thinking we might take a rest in the teahouse there, but it was not very welcoming. We could have paid extra to walk up to the large dagoba, built in the 17th century to commemorate a visit of the Dalai Lama, but it did not seem worth it. The Chinese authorities would react with horror to a visit from the present Dalai Lama, which is a shame. We enjoyed the pleasant, shady gardens before taking the boat back and walking on to the northern entrance. On the way we missed the 27m dragon screen, one of the oldest and largest in China [but we did see an even larger and finer one in Datong two days later]. We also missed the marble bowl reputedly owned by Kublai Khan himself, which was near the entrance, but on the far side of the lake. It would have been a long walk and we were flagging.

Lynne in the formal garden on the island, Beihai Park, Beijing

The northern entrance, we thought, should be close to Beihai North metro station but, being on a new line, it did not appear on our old map.

Outside we found a huge parking lot full of buses, and crocodiles of Chinese tourists obediently following their leaders’ flags. They had not been in the park; the area to the north contains most of the ‘restored’ hutongs used for the hutong tours, popular both with foreign tour groups and the huge, and fast-growing, Chinese tour market.

One guide tried to rope us in to a tour, but we declined and asked him for directions to the metro station which, as we had guessed, was not far.

No Roast duck, but a Pleasant, Simpler Dinner

In the evening we took a 20-minute walk from our hotel to Chongwenmen, heading for the Bianyifang Roast Duck restaurant, which seemed a suitable way to celebrate Lynne’s birthday.

We had been there twice before, but this time the whole area looked different and there was a park where my memory said the restaurant had been. After fruitlessly wandering around what had become a vast intersection since our last visit, we lost our bearings, so to cut our losses we took the metro the one stop back to our hotel.

Youtong St Restaurants, Beijing. Right yesterday, left today

After visiting the right hand of the two nearby restaurants yesterday, we tried the other one this time.

I wish I could read the menu

A mushroom dish provided us with a substantial heap of sliced fungi, but they were cold and, if not actually pickled, drenched in rice vinegar, which was not quite what we wanted - but if you cannot read the menu, you can only go by the pictures. With it we had a dish of ‘sweet pork’ which came with squares of tofu to wrap it in. It was good, if rather too sweet, but partnered with the acidic mushrooms we discovered that, entirely by luck, we had stumbled on a pair of dishes that complimented each other perfectly.

Sweet pork, pickled mushrooms and a bottle of beer (drunk from a tiny glass), Beijing

It seems a shame to finish on a picture of me when it was Lynne's birthday meal.... but so it goes.

Beijing, North Korea and Shanxi

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Thursday, 5 September 2013

Return to Beijing: Some Things Change, Some Stay the Same. Beijing and Shanxi Part 1

The Metro, the Ming Observatory and Suzhou Hutong

The Metro, How it is and How it was


People's Republic of China
Beijing has seen many changes since our first visit in 2004. Then we were told about the hundreds of hotels that would sprout up before the 2008 Olympics; we visited again in 2007 and saw building work in full swing and the start of a general tidy up following the (reputedly none-to-gentle) relocation of beggars and rough sleepers.

In 2004 there were 2 metro lines, now there are 13 plus an Airport Express which whisked us into central Beijing in 20 minutes, cutting both the journey time and the cost by two thirds compared with a taxi.

In the old days you shouldered your way through a non-queue to buy paper tickets which were torn in half a few paces away by inspectors perched on small stools at the top of the stairs. Now, shiny machines issue tickets with magnetic strips that open automatic gates. Stations on the new lines have escalators, but the originals do not. As the nearest station to our hotel was on the old line 2 we had to manhandle our heavy cases up and down the stairs. The Chinese are becoming increasingly obsessed with security and all baggage is X-rayed as you enter a station. This is done so speedily in crowded stations that it must be more ‘being seen to do something’ than a real contribution to security – which has never been a problem anyway.

Remarkably, while inflation has seen prices rise steadily, a ticket to travel anywhere on the new, enlarged system costs 2 yuan (20p), down from 3 yuan in 2004.

Jet-lagged and half asleep, we learned to use the new technology – all metros are similar but few are identical - and were pleased to be aided by the spontaneous kindness of two locals. A girl took it upon herself to explain the ticket machines, while a middle aged woman gave guidance on getting our cases through the barriers – you have to pull them behind you otherwise the machine interprets it as a fare-dodger and goes into a sulk.

As we would return from Korea and set off on the Chinese leg of the journey from Beijing Zahn (the city’s main railway station) we chose a hotel nearby - actually the same hotel as we had used in 2004 and 2007, though with a new name and under new management.

Beijing Railway Station

We checked in at 10.00 (Chinese hotels are often suprisingly accommodating with early check-ins) and caught up with a night’s lost sleep.

Later we walked the 100m to Dongchang'an Jie the main east-west thoroughfare through the city centre. We had expected to pass a couple of small restaurants we had used on previous visits but one had now become a print shop and the other had vanished completely, perhaps it had disappeared under the 40 stories of the Agricultural Bank of China on the corner of our street and Dongchang'an Jie .

The Ming Observatory

At that corner we turned east, away from the city centre, and after a 15 minute stroll reached the Ancient Observatory.

The Ancient Observatory, Beijing

The Fate of Beijing's Bicycles

Jianguomen still has wide bicycle lanes alongside the main carriageway but there are now few bicycles, though we saw the lane being used by several electric scooters and one in-line skater. At an intersection an old man wearing a fluorescent jacket and armed with a flag and a whistle marshalled the diminished band of cyclists. Such people used to stand self-importantly at every junction, but they have all but disappeared.

Jianguomen Da Jie, Beijing - there is (almost) nobody in the bicycle lane

There also seems to be little call for the Wangbikes (as Beijing’s equivalents to Borisbikes are not called, despite Wang Anshun being the mayor).

Beijing's 'Borisbikes'

In 2004 the Observatory, then partially closed for refurbishment, had lurked behind a patch of unmown grass. That could make a nice little park, I had observed, and lo and behold, in 2007 there was a gang of workmen creating exactly that. The park is still there.

The Courtyard Exhibition

We bought our tickets and passed through a hobbit hole (guess what I had been watching on the plane) into a courtyard containing reconstructed armillary spheres, theodolites and moondials set among shady ‘heritage’ trees.

Through a hobbit hole into the Observatory courtyard, Beijing Ancient Observatory

The Chinese have a genius for creating spaces of calm and quiet in the midst of bustling cities and this was one such place. Exhibition rooms around the perimeter trace the history of astronomy in China. The observatory, completed in 1422, is one of the oldest in the world, but by the mid-17th century Chinese astronomers had fallen behind their European counterparts and after a competition the emperor gave Ferdinand Verbiest, a Jesuit missionary, complete charge of the observatory. Jesuits remained in the forefront of Chinese astronomy until the 1820s, during which time many important books were translated into Chinese and much knowledge was shared.

Lynne in the courtyard of the Ancient Observatory, Beijing

The mathematician in me is delighted by the way Verbiest and his forerunner Matteo Ricci were able to communicate with their hosts. As Catholic priests their beliefs and practices would have differed from the Chinese in almost every sphere, but the certainties of mathematics gave them a common language which neither side could misunderstand. The busts of various other great Chinese mathematicians surround the yard, including Zu Chongzhi, who calculated Ď€ to 7 decimal places in the 5th century AD. Although the Ď€ notation was not introduced until the 17th century, it was exactly the same concept as had enthralled the Indus civilization, the Arabs and then Christian Europe, though no one matched Zu Chongzhi’s accuracy until 1585.

Zu Chongzhi, Beijing Ancient Observatory
As he died 1500 years ago, it is not unreasonable to question the accuracy of the likeness

The Observatory on a Section of the Ming City Wall

The observatory itself is alongside the courtyard on top of one of the few remaining sections of Beijing’s Ming city wall. It was once a good spot to observe the skies, but now encircled by higher buildings and bathed in light pollution and smog, it is a good spot only for a museum.

On top of the Ancient Observatory, Beijing

Jianguomen, Youtong street and the Suzhou Hutong

After our visit, we walked back down Jianguomen, which is lined with tall buildings, banks and government offices. The traffic roars past, but the wide pavements, kept clean by an army of sweepers and litter pickers, see few pedestrians. There are no shops or restaurants and the space feels unclaimed and impersonal.

Jianguomen Da Jie, Beijing

We turned into Youtong Street towards our hotel. This street is much narrower, the buildings on a more human scale. There are shops, people and the bustle of everyday life. The Railway Station/Youtong Street/Suzhou Hutong district has been the base for all three of our visits to Beijing and it feels familiar, strangely like coming home. It is a village, one among thousands within the city, an untouristy, everyday sort of place. Suzhou Hutong never sees the flag-following hordes on Hutong tours, nothing has been tarted up for show, but even here there have been changes and improvements. In the time we have been visiting it has acquired, among other things, a small local health centre and a clean and hygienic public toilet.

Youting Street, Beijing

Basic Level Dining: High Quality, Low Cost

If the restaurants between our hotel and Jianguomen had disappeared, a couple of simple eating houses remained on the other side and it was to one of these we repaired in the evening.

Restaurants on the corner of Youtong Street and Suzhou Hutong

We were the only foreigners in the restaurant (the one on the right in the picture), but they unearthed an English(ish) translation of their menu from somewhere. The waiter seemed unhappy with our choice of stir fried pork and green beans along with a dish of stuffed peppers but we lacked the language skill to understand why.

The peppers, we discovered, were not stuffed but sliced and mixed with strips of pork. Indeed there was as much pork on this dish – which we had selected from the ‘vegetables’ section of the menu - as there was in the pork and beans, and the two did look remarkably similar, hence the waiter’s consternation.

The peppers were very pleasant with a good thread of ginger running through them. I am not quite sure how to describe the saucing of the other dish but Lynne tasted a bean and said ‘yum’. I tried one and doubled it to ‘yum, yum’. The two dishes may have looked similar, but tasted very different. The food on other people’s plates looked as good as ours and it is a wonder how one man with a wok at the back of what is basically a small shop can produce a constant stream of different, distinctive, appetizing and wholesome food from such a tiny kitchen. Dinner for two, including two large (600ml) bottles of beer cost around £5.

Many things in Beijing may have changed, but we were delighted (though hardly surprised) to find the Chinese genius for creating peace in the middle of bustle, and for producing culinary delights from a hole in the wall remain gloriously undimmed.

Beijing, North Korea and Shanxi

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