Sunday 8 September 2013

Pyongyang (1), A Day for Bowing: North Korea Part 2

An Introduction to North Korea's Unique Way of Looking at the World

People's Democratic Republic of Korea

After investigating the Yanggakdo’s attempt at ‘international hotel buffet breakfast’ - adequate, if hardly exciting - we were ready to leave by 8.30.

Sunday is Korean's day of rest, but there were more people about this morning, walking or cycling over the bridge from our island…

Morning rush hour, Pyongyang

…or gathering by the trolley-bus stops outside the railway station.

Outside Pyongyang Railway Station

Kumsusan Palace - A Palace for Two Dead Leaders

We were on our way to see Kim Il Sung (deceased) and Kim Jong Il (equally deceased) and everybody had dressed up for the occasion. This was the second time I had worn a tie (except a black tie at funerals) since retiring five years ago. The Kims, I thought, should be flattered by my rating this visit alongside my grandson’s christening.

That, of course, was not the North Korean view; they take their leaders, dead or alive, very seriously. When photographing a statue, we had been told the previous evening, it is disrespectful not to photograph the whole statue. Nor should we ever fold or carelessly discard a newspaper (an English-language paper was available in the hotel) as they may (may??) contain a picture of a Kim, and their images should never be creased or crumpled.

I come from a society where many citizens, myself included, frequently sit on the face of our monarch (her image adorns the banknotes in my wallet, and I keep that in my back pocket). I have done the same to Chairman Mao in China and no one seemed to mind. I have no idea who or what appears on North Korean banknotes as I never saw any. Foreigners are not permitted to hold North Korean Won, they must use hard currency which is accepted only at the few places foreigners are permitted to shop. The Euro is the currency of choice (they even accept coins*) but change sometimes comes in Chinese Yuan.

A huge crowd, foreigners and locals, was milling around the bus park at Kumsusan Palace. The palace was built in 1976 as the official residence of Kim Il Sung. After his death in 1994 it became his mausoleum and in 2012 he was joined by his son Kim Jong Il. After a wait we lined up in fours in a covered walkway until it was our turn to move forward into the cloakroom where we handed over cameras, handbags and other objects likely to upset metal detectors.

Kumsusan Palace, Pyongyang

A short escalator took us to security screening. Once scanned and patted down, an immensely long travelator conveyed us down a wide corridor, the walls hung with over 200 pictures of Kim Il Sung. There was Kim in the snow, Kim in the spring, Kim with children, Kim in fields of corn, Kim with his wife, Kim with generals, Kim with his son, Kim on his train, Kim on a bike (and more and more and….). Those who had completed their visit were being carried back down the far side of the corridor. They were all Koreans; some women in national costume, some men in suits but most in army uniform. Apparently all Korean soldiers below the rank of colonel must wear a uniform two sizes too big for them. They gave us a good hard stare as they rolled towards us, and we stared back.

Korean women in national dress, Kumsusan Palace

Paying our Respects to Kim Il Sung

At the end we walked through a sort of airlock. Rollers in the floor cleaned our shoes and blasts of air blew away any extraneous dust and capitalist ideas while also controlling the temperature and humidity of the room beyond.

Kim Il Sung lies in the centre of a large rectangular room, the sombre lighting focussed entirely on him.

As previously instructed we formed into lines of 4 (a neat trick for 15 people). The first quartet advanced to the foot of the catafalque, paused, bowed, paused again and then filed round to Kim’s right to repeat the process as the next four advanced, then round to the head where, for some unexplained reason, bowing is considered inappropriate, then to the left for another bow and then out. I thought he was looking well, as corpses go.

Kim Il Sung's Awards - Including the Medallion of Derbyshire - his Car and Private Train

In the next room glass cases held the huge array of medals and awards heaped on Kim Il Sung from all over the world. Koreans walked round in wonder and amazement, while we gazed quizzically at gaudy golden stars presented by obscure Peruvian municipalities. Naturally we searched for any British contribution to the glittering array. Eventually we found a plain gold (ish) disc inscribed ‘The Medallion of the County of Derbyshire.’ [I googled it later but could find no information about who awarded it, who else has been a recipient or indeed any evidence of its existence beyond this one example. I did, though, find a British newspaper article about a visit to Kumsusan. The writer had spotted the medallion and made a snarky comment about 'loony left' councils. Either this was lazy journalism, or he was writing to the agenda of the unaccountably popular right wing rag that employed him, maybe both. Having an inquiring mind and with no such agenda, I contacted Derbyshire County Council with a 'Freedom of Information' request. They had never heard of it, though they did invited me to look through several decades of council minutes in case they had missed it. I declined]

Wearing a tie outside the Kumsusan Palace

More marble halls with more photographs took us to rooms containing Kim Il Sung’s car, a black Mercedes, and his private train. The walls were covered with maps, one showing all his train journeys and another with lights showing the destination of every foreign visit he made (he covered much of Asia and Eastern Europe but never made it west of Prague).

The Lying-in-State Room

More corridors took us to the huge carpeted room where Kim Il Sung and later his son Kim Jong Il had lain in state, the walls covered with reliefs depicting the Korean people, weeping and distraught at the loss of their leaders. Like every other room in the palace no expense had been spared on the quality of the materials, and the care lavished on maintenance and cleaning has been unstinted.

Kim Il Sung (left) and Kim Jong Il
I was not allowed my camera, so I have borrowed this picture PressTV
The chandelier reflected in the wooden surround exemplifies the polishing in Kumsusan

And Repeat for Kim Jong Il

Passing through another airlock allowed us to repeat the whole process with Kim Jong Il. Bowing at the body, viewing the medals (no British contributions here) and finally seeing his car, his train, the golf buggy he used on factory visits and finally his private launch. Kim Jong Il died of a heart attack on his train and his desk is left much as it was when he collapsed over it, worn out by his unceasing toil at the service of the Korean people. His death came as a shock to Koreans, though his ill health had been reported in the west for months.

Local guides are good at giving the approved information, but less good at answering questions. We did, however, get an answer to ‘how did they get this stuff in here?’ The trains and boats, we were told, are in rooms with external walls. They were installed and the wall built around them.

We rode back down the long travelator mulling over our surreal experience. We have seen embalmed leaders before, but the mausoleums of Lenin, Mao and Ho Chi Minh are modest by comparison. No society can have bestowed so much care and attention (and money) on their dead leaders since the days of Rameses II.

Mansudae Hill

We spent some time wandering round the outside and taking the photographs above before hopping back on the bus. The short journey to Mansudae Hill included a pause at a flower stall.

Flower seller, Mansudae Hill, Pyongyang

‘The square will be very crowded’, we were told before turning the corner to find it almost empty.

Kim Il Sung (left) and Kim Jong Il on Mansudae Hill, Pyongyang

Huge statues of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il look out over southern Pyongyang. We lined up before them and bowed reverently (well, perhaps not very reverently) and those who had bought flowers walked forward to add them to the pile.

Two members of our party place floral tributes at the feet of Kim Jong Il
Did they do it out of respect and affection for him?
Did they do it out of politeness to our hosts?
Did they do it to fully immerse themselves in the DPRK experience?

Reliefs standing either side of the statues go under the snappy title ‘Statues of the Newly Freed Proletariat due to Kim Il Sung.’ They represent, we were told ‘the military and civilians of North Korea striving together to overcome their enemies to create a perfect state.’

Statue of the Newly Freed Proletariat Thanks to Kim Il Sung

As we admired the reliefs a large group of locals turned up to bow and make their presentations. Most had flowers, many had bought a sort of ‘floral FA Cup’ which seemed popular wherever we went.

The locals arrive to pay their respects, Mansudae Hill, Pyongyang

After this, lunch brought an air of normality. We had the restaurant to ourselves and ate chips, gelatinous noodles, stuffed pasta, tofu, cucumber, beef stew, shredded potato and sausage. The dishes turned up at irregular intervals and in no particular order. Just when we thought we had finished rice and soup arrived.

The Fatherland Liberation War Museum, Pyongyang

The Fatherland Liberation War Museum has recently reopened after refurbishment. It was on our itinerary as an ‘optional extra if open’ at €20 a head. That seems expensive for a museum, and, when it came to it hardly ‘optional’ but it would take a strange person to come all this way and then opt out.

Fatherland Liberation War Museum, Pyongyang

The museum is another palace behind a huge statue-dotted courtyard. There was little similarity between the heroic figures and the soldiers we had seen this morning, proud but small men in badly cut and ill-fitting uniforms.

Heroic DPRK soldiers, Fatherland War Liberation Museum, Pyongyang

To the right of the square was an extensive exhibition of captured American hardware, guns, tanks, downed aircraft and even a helicopter. We emerged from the end of this display at the riverside quay where the USS Pueblo is moored.

Captured US tank, Fatherland Liberation War Museum, Pyongyang

The Pueblo Affair

In January 1968 the American spy ship Pueblo was apprehended in North Korean territorial waters (or outside them in the American version). Outnumbered and outgunned the American captain prevaricated while his crew shredded confidential documents. Eventually the North Koreans opened fire killing one crewman and surrender inevitably followed.

USS Pueblo, Pyongyang

After 11 months of negotiation the Americans signed a humiliating document admitting spying and undertaking not to do it again and the crew was released. The document is displayed on board. Our North Korean guide thoroughly enjoyed the word ‘spies’ loading it with us much contempt as a single syllable can bear, but she did not tell us that as soon as they had their sailors back the Americans had repudiated the document as being signed under duress. She also failed to mention that the section saying it had been signed ‘as a receipt for 81 servicemen and one dead body’ had been blanked out. That figure, which is not disputed, struck me as staggering. I have no idea how 82 people could fit onto a vessel which is more boat than ship.

On the USS Pueblo, Fatherland Liberation War Museum, Pyongyang

I thought I remembered these events well, but I was surprised to discover the Pueblo was captured the week before the Tet offensive in Vietnam (see this Hue post). Could these events really have been happening at the same time? Apparently, yes.

It really was a spy ship, USS Pueblo, Fatherland Liberation War Museum, Pyongyang

The Korean War, a Narrative (or two)

The main museum was as sumptuous as the Kumsusan Palace. We paused before the large statue of Kim Il Sung in the entrance hall and perhaps we were expected to bow, but the choreography broke down and it never happened.

The museum was beautifully laid out, but long on narrative and short on artefacts. In 1945 the Japanese had been kicked out of Korea and the peninsula was divided along the 38th parallel with the Americans occupying the south and the Soviet Union the north. In 1948 Kim Il Sung established the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) in North Korea. This much is agreed, thereafter the narrative differs considerably from the story usually told in the west.

The North Korean version is in red and there is an alternative version in green, while my comments are in black. You may decide which to believe. I apologise for the inevitable simplifications.

In their quest for world domination, the Americans looked at the Korean peninsula and saw a knife they could thrust into the heart of Asia. America’s quest for world domination has now been sub-contracted to Macdonalds, Hollywood and Google. The more I look at a map of Asia, the less comprehensible the use of Korea as a ‘knife’ becomes.

Captured US guns, Fatherland Liberation War museum, Pyongyang

On the 25th of June 1950 the Americans launched a vicious and unprovoked attack across the 38th parallel. The division of Korea was a consequence of the 1945 Yalta agreement which stipulated that all foreign troops should be withdrawn by 1948. Both the US and the USSR adhered to the agreement so there were no significant American force in Korea in 1950. It was North Korea that invaded the South. It was not entirely unprovoked and followed a series of skirmishes some of which were provoked by the south. It was a pre-emptive strike as the North half-expected to be invaded. The doctrine of the pre-emptive strike was adopted by the US in 2003 to justify the invasion of Iraq.

Although DPRK troops were only deployed for defence, they counter-attacked, liberated Seoul and continued their advance until by August they had liberated the whole peninsula, except for a small section in the south east. I am unsure how a force ‘deployed only for defence’ could have done this. Some units of the US 8th Army were hastily redeployed from Japan and participated fully in this debacle.

The Americans called in their friends in the UN, including the British and the Turks. They landed on the west coast and reinforced their southern enclave. The Soviet Union was boycotting the Security Council so failed to veto resolutions calling for armed intervention. They did not make that mistake again. UN forces, having taken control of the south eastern enclave, broke out at the same time as the landing. 88% of the UN force was supplied by the US (330,000 men), 4% (14,000) were British. 600,000 South Korean soldiers were also involved. The DPRK narrative did not mention them.

Captured US helicopter, Fatherland Liberation War museum, Pyongyang

The breakout and landing were successful and after a rapid advance most of North Korea was in UN hands by November. The Americans then invaded the north but after a struggle heroically led by Kim Il Sung, the Fatherland was liberated. At this point the Chinese became involved (The DPRK narrative fails to mention them, too) and by January 1951 the counter-invasion had been repulsed and both sides became bogged down in trench warfare on and around the 38th parallel until the armistice in July 1953.

A crushing defeat was inflicted on the Americans. The DPRK was the first country ever to defeat the US in war. The war halted with a few minor gains and losses either side of the 38th parallel. To me that looks like a draw, albeit a draw which left half a million soldiers and 2.5 million civilians dead. And, of course, the war ‘halted’, it did not end. There was an armistice but, as yet, no peace treaty. In the North Korean mind, fighting ended last week and could resume any day.

Kim Il Sung Square

Thoroughly informed of the North Korean narrative, no other voices are allowed to intrude, we escaped the museum and headed on to Kim Il Sung Square. The next day was the 65th anniversary of the founding of the DPRK on the 9th of September 1948 – also (and probably coincidently) the day my parents were married. There would be celebrations and they would doubtless be centred on the square but the guides were very cagy about what they would be. ‘Nobody knows until it happens,’ we were told.

This was unconvincing. We all knew there would be a military parade, because there always is. The square was marked out with blobs of paint. Two of our number goose-stepped across the square to check that the paint marks coincided with a reasonable stride length.

Kim Il Sung Square and some blobs of paint, Pyongyang

Across the river from the square is the Juche Tower, of which more later.

Juche Tower, Pyongyang

Opera House and Brew House

Our guides may have feigned ignorance about the next day, but they did know about an impromptu concert at the opera college. We arrived to find about 50 people, plus some rather bored schoolchildren, listening to singers on the college steps. We caught the last few songs, some by soloists, some ensemble. We could not, of course, understand the words, but like most Korean songs, they were hymns to Kims.

Welcoming mural, College of Opera, Pyongyang

Our next stop was a brewpub. After so much DPRK nationalism this was a blessed relief.

Impromptu concert at the Opera College, Pyongyang (some are more interested than others)

It is difficult to know the functions of the buildings lining Pyongyang’s streets. Many must be shops, but there are no window displays - indeed many windows are tinted - stalls never spill out into the street, there are no advertisements and no signs except a few words in Korean, which might be informative, but may equally well be political slogans.

Getting off the bus we could see through an open door into what appeared to be a bar, but we were led away from it to another building at the end of the block. We climbed some stairs to a private room where we all sat round a long table. There was certainly no intention of allowing unfettered access to unvetted local citizens over a glass of beer. Our guides took our orders and brought the beer on trays - we never even glimpsed the bar or a beer tap.

Four brews were on offer, differentiated not by variety of barley or hop but by adjunct. One was 100% barley, another 70% barley/30% rice and a third 100% rice. There was also a dark beer.

As 100% barley is the norm at home, we tried the 70% barley (rich and hoppy), the 100% rice (pale, fizzy and tasteless), and the dark beer (sweetish and reminiscent of Mackeson). As we had already found, North Korea has some serious brewers and they proved (yet again) that there is no substitute for malted barley.

Our itinerary had already deviated significantly from the published version and as we sat and supped we were presented with a revised edition. We were originally scheduled to leave Pyongyang next day but would now stay for the mysterious celebrations and in the evening we could (or was that ‘would’) attend the Arairang Mass Games. We had already paid extra for the museum and the games were another €100 each (slightly cheaper tickets were available). This is a lot of money and I had an uneasy feeling that the government, desperate for hard currency, was ripping us off. On the other hand as it was the only opportunity we would ever have to see such a thing we smiled and paid up.

Beer glasses drained, it was time to return to the hotel where we ate in the ‘Chinese Restaurant’. After a very moderate buffet the previous evening and a passable breakfast we sat down with some hope. It was, in fact, Chinese only in name. We ate a very ordinary salad with mayonnaise, glutinous noodles, a small, cold bony fish with a tough batter (which had turned up at both previous meals in the hotel), cold chips (another local favourite), and an under-seasoned stew of chewy beef. As at lunchtime, rice and soup arrived at the end. Rice seemed to be assigned the role, once played by Yorkshire pudding, of a filler so the shortage of the ‘good things’ goes unnoticed - except in our case there was no shortage of ‘good things’ and most of the rice went uneaten.

Night fall on Pyongyang, but the red 'flame' on the Juche Tower is always visible

All our meals were paid for in advance – we could only use approved (and otherwise empty) restaurants - and the whole group ate the same set menu. Generally, lunches out were good, the only problem being not knowing how many small courses were coming, making pacing difficult. Meals in hotels ranged from dull to dire, but at least a glass of the excellent local beer was included.

* They accept all coins, however small. By contrast Monarch Airlines who fly into and out of the Eurozone many times daily accept only notes and €1 coins – and at a far inferior exchange rate. [And we all know what happened to them. We were in Portugal in 2017 when Monarch ceased trading, our thanks to the Civil Aviation Authority for bringing us home.]

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.

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