Travelling Around Britain and the World

Saturday 14 September 2013

By Train out of the DPRK: North Korea Part 9

From Pyongyang Back to Beijing and the Bright Lights of 'Freedom'

Leaving Pyongyang


North Korea
On the short ride to the railway station B made good on his promise to respond to the singing of our Korean hosts the previous evening.

In the 1960s the press would have described B as ‘flamboyant’, a word that falls sadly short as a description of his performance of 'Hey, Big Spender'. He attacked the song with a panache that Shirley Bassey would have admired, flirting outrageously with the young male Korean guides, who seemed uncertain how to react. The rest of us enjoyed it enormously and joined in where appropriate. North Korea is busy arming itself to resist a military attack that will never come, they have no defence against western decadence.

Station formalities were surprisingly minimal and we soon found ourselves on a wide and increasingly crowded platform.

Waiting to board the train, Pyongyang Railway Station

Once permitted to enter the train we settled into a four-berth sleeping compartment identical to the Chinese soft-sleepers we are well used to.

North to the Chinese Border

We rolled northwards at a leisurely pace, past fields of rice and maize, orchards and villages of traditional houses. We saw no towns before the border and few people, except once, where the whole village had turned out to plant rice. Distant glimpses of farmers driving ox carts suggested that animal power was still much in use.

Ox carts in rural North Korea

A North Korean Lunch

We were called to the dining car at 12.30 and as it was our last opportunity for a Korean lunch we took it. The meal consisted of five dishes, cucumber with chilli, potatoes and veg, pork with veg, squid and a dish of very recently defrosted spam. The veg, pork and squid were all served with the same sauce which was pleasant enough if rather repetitive. The squid tasted dodgy and seemed well past its sell-by date, so we left it.

Rural North Korea

The service was interesting. First beer bottles were put on the table, then half the food arrived. After a while glasses were produced followed by the rest of the food. It was a long and frustrating sit before anyone turned up with a bottle opener.

Rice fields, North Korea

A Swiss luncher across the aisle attempted to photograph his last North Korean meal. The lead waitress was very quick to come across and tell him very firmly that photography was forbidden. Of course it was, lunch is obviously a state secret.

Rural North Korea
Horse drawn carts in the stream and a traditional village beyond the fields

Crossing the Korean/Chinese Border

We reached the border town of Sinuiju in late afternoon. It looked run down, with crumbling tower blocks and rubble-strewn open spaces. The formalities took place beside a derelict platform on which a border guard station was being built. The only completed section was the giant rectangle which would later hold pictures of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il. Passports were checked and men – though not women – were run over with a hand held metal detector. The customs man asked us to open our hand luggage. He was very interested in Jw’s papers – the itinerary for our journey and several copies of the Pyongyang Times, (the DPRK’s English language paper) which he went through looking at the pictures. From my bag he pulled out my book of Killer Sudokus. He looked rather puzzled, then opened the book and started laughing. He checked one of my solutions, turned to another page, still laughing, and checked another. Satisfied that a) I can do Killer Sudokus and b) no Sudokist could be a subversive, he left us in peace without checking the last two bags.

We had heard stories of border guards examining cameras and demanding the elimination of pictures. That did not happen - it would have taken all day - but as it was we sat for a couple of hours before moving off. A few minutes later we were crossing the broad Yalu River and leaving the DPRK behind. The four in our compartment heaved a collective sigh of relief, which was, I believe, replicated in the other compartments. Across the water was the shining beacon of freedom that is China – visiting the DPRK can strangely alter your perceptions. I was glad I had been to North Korea, but I was also pleased to be out and to know that I never have to go there again - though now I rather fancy a trip to South Korea.

Village children turn out to do some planting
North Korea, just south of the Chinese border

We crossed the river on the Chinese-Korean Friendship Bridge, which runs beside an older bridge destroyed in the Korean War and left like the Pont d’Avignon as a memorial of sorts.

The end of the bridge over the Yalu River destroyed in the Korean War

Back in China

Darkness was falling as we rolled into Dandong. The Chinese border town seemed full of life and bustle after the moribund DPRK, the streets were ablaze with neon lights (the Chinese do like a bit of neon) and busy with traffic. The city even has a Tesco – how civilised can you get?

The formalities took place beside the gleaming platforms of Dandong station. We saw Je being taken away by the border guards, which was a little worrying. Apparently he had neglected to equip himself with a double entry visa. This, we thought, must happen every week, if not every day and the judicious application of a little cash would doubtless solve the problem - they could hardly send him back to North Korea.

He was still missing when the attendant arrived to announce that dinner was ready. Our section had been detached from the Korean train before crossing the bridge but had not yet been attached to the Chinese train so we had to get out and walk up the platform to reach the dining car - it was a long train.

A Chinese dinner with Hollywood Realism

We sat down and beer was distributed. The cans of Pabst beer bore a military motif and were dedicated to the American forces of World War II. Considering the attitude of the people we had just left, this caused an ironic smile followed by the thought that only in American and North Korea would this be considered appropriate – enemies often have more in common than they realise - and the line between ‘socialist realism’ (see the paintings in the Pyongyang metro) and the ‘Hollywood realism’ of the beer cans was thin indeed.

{Brandchannel inform me these special edition cans were made only for the Chinese market (why?). I borrowed the artwork from their website which has since disappeared, so no link anymore.]

Pabst beer can - Heroic American Soldier
A can with bad taste inside and out

We ate a mushroom dish with onions and chillies, meat balls, and a vegetable dish with little pieces of meat. Each had been carefully prepared in its own individual sauce; it was like eating in colour, after the monochrome of the DPRK....but...much as I enjoyed the food, the beer was poor compared to the surprisingly characterful North Korean brews.

Heroic North Korean soldier and youth on a monument in Pyongyang
Better beer, but equally dire artwork

[Update:In 2022 I collected the best of the Socialist Realism artworks we have encountered in our travels, from Estonia in the west to North Korea in the east, and made a single post out of them. It also includes Hollywood Realism and Imperialist Realism and can be found here.]

Nobody attempted to photograph their dinner, but if they had no one would have stopped them. Freedom sometimes involves not bothering to do something that nobody wants you not to.

The return to our compartment involved a long walk through the second class sleeping area, the bunks stacked three tiers high. We travelled this way from Guangzhou to Yichang in 2005, it was fine, but I am now old enough to admit that I prefer the comfort of the soft sleepers.

Je had returned with his passport properly stamped; our earlier conjecture had been right. Darkness fell and we rolled on through the Chinese night. I did not sleep well, though there was no good reason for that, and we arrived at Beijing Station pretty much on time at 8 o'clock in the morning.

Back in Beijing

Beijing is a big bustling city at the heart of a big bustling country, and Beijing Zahn is a big bustling station. There were crowds, there was noise, there were people moving purposefully – welcome back to the world.

Beijing Railway Station
(photographed nine days earlier)

We said our goodbyes as our group split up and we went our separate ways. L and I trundled our case the short distance to the City Line Hotel, where for the second time in ten days we attempted to check in while other guests were still eating breakfast.

They were, again, very obliging, though they did send us away for an hour while they prepared a room. We sat drinking coffee in a little restaurant near the station, surrounded by locals – it would have been nice to have done the same in the DPRK. The North Koreans do not understand that, indeed do not want to understand it. That was why, for all their hospitality, the perceptions of the DPRK we had before we arrived were largely unchanged by the experience of actually being there.


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Friday 13 September 2013

Last Day in Pyongyang (2) Serious Study and Juche Thought: North Korea Part 8

Shops of the Elite, Visiting Educational Institutions and the Juche Tower

A Stroll in Pyongyang's Empty Streets and a Shop for the Elite


North Korea
After lunch we were told we could walk in the streets and visit a shop and café. This sounded interesting - might there at last be an opportunity to see real North Koreans in their natural habitat? Of course not, it was merely timewasting until our next appoitnment.
The bustling streets of Pyongyang

We did take a short walk through the streets near the city centre. They were hardly bustling; indeed they were as empty as they usually were. We wondered if anyone lived in these gleeming apartment blocks. If you ask a guide the answer is 'Of course.' If you ask them why the streets are so empty, they look puzzled, this is the only city they have ever been to, so it is normal.

Mangoes, Cornflakes and Nescafé- for Some

We also entered a shop, it had dark tinted windows - like most Pyongyang shops - but it also had two red plaques above the door. The plaques commemorate visits by a Kim, father, son or grandson, and this shop had been visited twice. This was no ordinary gorcers.

Red plaques show the dates of visits by Kims

Inside was a small self-service store and we immediately noticed the fruit. For us food had been plentiful if not always expertly cooked or served, but we had hardly seen any fruit. At some meals an apple, cored and sliced had been served between four or six, but that was it. This shop was full of fruit, and not just locally produced apples and pears, but imported tropical fruit as well, bananas, pineapples and mangoes.

Fruit apart, the rest of the stock, though nicely presented, was surprisingly mundane. Apparently, what the elite of the DPRK crave is Kellogg’s cornflakes, Nescafé and Edam cheese.

Upstairs was a café bar, hardly the sort of establishment your regular working Korean could expect to patronise. A waitress appeared and took orders, but we had just eaten, and a snack or a lukewarm Nescafé were the last things we wanted. Some orders were placed but we, and several others, did not bother. It mattered not, we were going to sit there for an hour come what may.

Café-bar for the elite, Pyongyang

Wedding Photos

Eventually we left and strolled through more eerily quiet streets to a square dominated by a statue of what would have been apsaras in a country less disapproving of religion.

This is where newly married couples come for their wedding photographs, and if business was hardly brisk, there was at least some activity. Our guide charged up to one couple and insisted on them posing for the photograph below - and a dozen like it. The newlyweds look less than delighted – and I don’t blame them.

Wedding photo with a few unwanted extras

The Grand People's Study House, Pyongyang

Eventually enough time had passed and we set off for the Grand Peoples' Study House, which is both the national library and a correspondence university. There was the usual vast marble entrance hall dominated not, this time, by a picture Kim Il Sung, but a statue of the great man seated on a throne. Of course it was not really a throne as North Korea is a People’s Democracy not a monarchy. That the present leader is the son of the previous leader, who was in turn the son of Kim Il Sung is irrelevant; he is leader only because he is, by far, the best man for the job.

Kim Il Sung welcomes us to the Grand Peoples' Study House, Pyongyang

Nearby was something unusual – a photograph of Kim Jong Un. The ‘Marshall’ is not omnipresent, unlike his late forebears.

A rare sighting of Kim Jung Un
Grand Peoples' Study House, Pyongyang

Our tour involved dropping in on some rather basic reading rooms, though they were apparently proud of a Heath-Robinson contrivance which allowed the reader to tilt the desk surface for ease of reading.

Reading room with tilting desks!
Grand Peoples' Study House, Pyongyang

There were computers about the building linked, we were told, to the library catalogue but in one room there were several dozen computers and the students seemed to be doing more than merely searching for books.

J sat at an unoccupied desk and attempted to find the result of the Ukraine v England World Cup Qualifier played the previous Tuesday when we had been away from Pyongyang and access to the BBC World Service. [it was 0-0, I am really sorry I missed it]. The attempt was doomed, but as the machine spluttered with indignation at being asked such a trivial question, all the computers in the room crashed. It was probably a coincidence.

None of these people know the football result
Grand Peoples' Study House, Pyongyang

They were up and running in a few minutes and J typed ‘peace and democracy’ into the library search. It came up with a few suggestions. We left them on the screen and walked away.

Learn with the Magic Roundabout
Grand Peoples' Study House, Pyongyang

We visited what we were told was the music department. It was a reading room like all the others but also equipped with ancient cassette tape recorders. A staff member stuck in a tape and we all joined in with ‘Yellow Submarine’, though ‘Let it Be’ was rather less of a sing-along success. Was this all they knew of western music? Did they know about Beethoven and Beyoncé? The staff member had gone so there was no one to ask.

Music department
Grand Peoples' Study House, Pyongyang

In another room a language class sat in a 1970s-style language lab. B asked if he could speak to the students. Surprisingly the guide agreed and he walked to the front and made a start. His little speech did not seem to go well, and an attempt at interaction with individual students was met with embarrassed silence. Only then did the teacher in charge mention that this was a Chinese language class and none of the students spoke English.

B starts to talk - in the wrong language
Grand Peoples' Study Hall, Pyongyang

In the English class next door his carefully chosen words about the value of education went down rather better.

We were shown some of the books from the English language section, aged and tatty copies of Huckleberry Finn and Gone with the Wind and a much glossier non-fiction publication entitled The Story of the German Shepherd Dog.

Every reading room had the inevitable portraits of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il, but we did escape their gaze while in the lift – perhaps the authorities should look into that. On the roof there was a small gift shop with exactly the same goods as in every gift shop, and some views across the city.

The Grand People’s Study House overlooked Kim Il Sung Square with the Juche Tower over the river.

Kim Il Sung Square, the Taedong River and the Juche Tower, Pyongyang

The 9th of June Secondary School, Pyongyang

Our educational afternoon continued with a visit to the 9th of June Secondary School. We arrived around 5 o’clock and were greeted in the entrance hall by a local guide, presumably a teacher, and a painting of a grandfatherly Kim Il Sung, a fatherly Kim Jong Il and the sort of train they do not have in North Korea.

Kim Il Sung & Kim Jong Il welcome us to the 9th of June Secondary School
Pyongyang

There were few children around. Many, maybe all, stay after school for compulsory homework (though if it isn’t done at home….?) and extra-curricular activities but by this time most had dispersed, possibly to home or more likely to one of the many activities the state likes to organise to keep youth happy, or at least properly occupied – ‘give me the child and I will give you the man’ as the Jesuits might have said.

We started in the biology room which had a microscope on every bench, how many would be sharing it we never found out. There was little other equipment and the room had a Spartan air.

Wow, microscopes, 9th of June Secondary School, Pyongyang

Other classrooms were even barer. This was, presumably, a show school, but it all looked a bit 1960s, though not brightened by anything on the classroom walls except the obligatory portraits of the Kims and framed displays of children in uniform with a red scarf round their necks - ‘scout of the week’ type pictures. There were no displays of children’s work, no posters and no bright or stimulating material. There was a room full of stuffed animals – a personal gift from Kim Jung Un – but whether it was ever used (and if so, for what) we never discovered though we were shown it with great pride.

Stuffed animals, an essential teaching resource
9th of June Secondary School, Pyongyang

We were not immensely impressed, but the sight of blackboards and sticks of chalk, made me come over all nostalgic - even the orphans' school we visited in Myanmar had white boards.

A blackboard, how nostalgic
9th of June Secondary School, Pyongyang

Our visit finished, almost inevitably, in the auditorium where we were treated to yet another song and dance show, this one mercifully brief. The performances were technically good, if rather joyless. At the end they came forward and grabbed as many as were willing to dance with them in front of the stage.

Concert party, 9th of June Secondary School, Pyongyang

At the end, B joined them for the photographs and then attempted to introduce them to the hand-jive. One or two hesitantly started to follow, but after a glance at their teacher they soon gave up. Spontaneity is not encouraged in the DPRK education system. Perhaps we could send them Michael Gove (oh please let’s).

Anyone for the hand jive? No?
9th of June Secondary School, Pyongyang

The Juche Tower, Pyongyang

Taking our leave we moved on to the Juche Tower, a landmark visible from all over the city, particularly at night when the red flame is lit up and much of the rest of Pyongyang isn’t.

The tower was ‘personally designed’ by Kim Jong Il to celebrate the 70th birthday of Kim Il Sung. Various dimensions accord with the dimensions of the elder Kim’s life, and it is, they claim, the tallest granite tower in the world.

Juche Tower, Pyongyang

‘Juche,’ literally self-reliance, is the basic creed of Kim Il Sungism and brilliantly fills the gaps left by Marxism/Leninism and Maoism. Beyond the basic (and distinctly non-Marxist) idea that North Korea has to be self-sufficient in every way, and the related and self-explanatory ‘military first’ policy, there does not seem to be much to ‘Juche Thought’ and it is difficult to imagine what ‘Juche Study Groups’ do with their time. Ironically, what applies to the nation does not apply to the people; far from being self-reliant, the government ensures they are supplied with every thought they should ever need.

Over the entrance are plaques presented by various worthies, including a clutch of long-deposed African dictators and a selection of ‘Juche study groups’ in an assortment of Universities, none, as far as I could see, came from the UK.

Inside a lift plods up to the observation platform below the flame. Our group and others were shuttled upwards in a series of journeys. L and I shared the lift with three men one of whom was short but immensely wide and powerful. A laminated card round his neck identified him as a member of the Myanmar weightlifting team in the DPRK for a competition; we had seen similar well-muscled individuals around the hotel earlier. On the back of my t-shirt were the words ‘souvenir of Lake Inle’, at least that is what I believe, though Burmese is one of many alphabets I cannot read. The wide short man, however, could read my back and asked if I had been to Myanmar. We had a brief conversation and I told him how much we had liked his country, which seemed to please him. It was a small interaction, an everyday experience anywhere else, but one that had been totally absent in our dealings with North Koreans.

From the top we could look back to the ‘Grand Peoples’ Study House’ and Kim Il Sung Square or downstream to the now familiar outline of the Yanggakdo Hotel…

The Yanggakdo Hotel, Pyongyang

... or upstream to the Rungnado Stadium where we had seen the Arirang Games…

The Rungnado Stadium, Pyongyang

... or across the river to the distinctive bulk of the Ryugyong Hotel. Construction began on this 105 story concrete pyramid in 1987. It was topped out in 1992 but work ceased leaving the 330m building without windows or interior fittings. Work restarted in 2008 and was, allegedly, completed in 2012, though it has yet to open. How North Korea would fill 8 revolving restaurants and either 3000 or 7500 (reports vary) guest rooms is a mystery.

The Ryugyong Hotel, Pyongyang

Back on the ground we were passed by a long stream of children, all in a uniform similar to the scouts. Some carried brushes and they were on their way to clean up the streets round their school. We waved and some waved back, after checking first to see if the teacher was watching. Adults often work until 7 or 8 and the state is keen to occupy the children for as long as necessary, and make sure they grow up with the right thoughts.

Farewell Dinner, Pyongyang

It was the end of a long day and back on the bus the guide announced we would go straight to our farewell dinner. Insurrection ensued. The revolutionaries demanded we return to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes. The demands were met.

We dined in a department store, but the store was closed so we saw nothing of the goods on sale, being merely whisked up to the restaurant, which was also closed - to everybody but us. The meal was good if similar to others we had eaten and I will miss the kimchi when we leave. The sudden production of a main course, in this case a hefty beef stew with rice and vegetables stirred with egg, just as we thought we had finished caught us out, yet again.

On the way back we received a little lecture, which essentially said ‘Terrible lies are told about our country in the west. You have seen the truth, now go home and tell them.’ So I have, and undoubtedly the guide would be disappointed, maybe amazed, that I have found so little positive to say about the DPRK. To redress the balance here are two good things: 1) Pyongyang is very clean, 2) The DPRK brews the best beers in Asia.

The lead guide sang the folk song Arirang, and turned out to have a very good voice. The assistants were called on to sing and they too had good voices, though the only songs they knew were in praise of the nation’s leaders – hymns to Kims. B promised to reciprocate on our behalf in the morning.

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Last Day in Pyongyang (1) Gifts and the Metro: North Korea Part 7

The Gifts Showered on the Eternal Leader and the Dear Leader by their Grateful People - and a Remarkable Metro System

North Korea

There is so much to say about our last day in Pyongyang that I have split the post into two.

Why is There a Palace of Gifts?

Back on Day One, after bowing to the corpses of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il we had been permitted to marvel at the medals bestowed on the two great leaders by the awestruck chiefs of other countries, provinces, municipalities and counties - including Derbyshire (though no one there seems to know how our when - or even if - that came about.) During their lifetimes they were also showered with gifts by the grateful people of Korea, the envious ordinary citizens of lesser countries not fortunate enough to be blessed with such great leaders and by those leaders themselves in recognition of their own inadequacy.

Two palaces have been built to house these gifts so the toiling masses can see the high regard in which their leaders are held. Both were on our itinerary, but the palace of foreign gifts has been closed for months. It is some way from the city and, allegedly, the road has been blocked by a landslide. Why it has taken so long to clear a landslide is not a question we were expected to ask.

Mixed Messages and Gentle Leg-Pulling at the Palace of Gifts

The palace of gifts from loyal Koreans is closer and, after a leisurely breakfast, that was where we started our last full day in the DPRK.

We arrived at yet another of the country’s monumental buildings. 'You can take photographs,' we were told as we got off the bus, 'but not of the soldiers.' A soldier was barely visible, guarding the entrance of the building a hundred metres away, and any photo of the building had to include him. This resulted in much blowing of whistles and shouting from the guards near at hand. We had been in the DPRK long enough to know that the appropriate response is to smile, shrug and lower your camera – but not before you have taken the picture.

The palace of gifts from loyal Koreans, near Pyongyang

A local guide turned up to escort us. We lined up behind her and she set off towards the palace. We followed in single file. For some reason she did not take a straight route and we followed her, turn for turn, twist for twist, sniggering like naughty schoolchildren. About half way she turned round, realised what was happening and burst out laughing. It was one of the few times when the shell of professional reserve cracked and we made fleeting contact with the person beneath. Such levity was ruthlessly stamped on by shouts and whistles from the soldiers on guard.

No photographs were allowed inside the palace, so here is a nice picture of
the North Korean countryside to break up this big slab of print

The marble halls resembled an overcrowded museum. Some gifts, like the exquisite double-sided embroidered screens and delicate porcelain vases were impressive. Others, like a set of intricately carved wooden three-dimensional battle scenes were in doubtful taste while yet more were just weird - a lacquerware combined air conditioner and CD player and a huge vase decorated with hundreds of thousands of melon seeds, mustard seeds, corn kernels, grains of rice and lentils all individually painted and stuck on by hand. There were more mundane gifts, too, including several televisions, still in their wrappings, which had been there long enough to look dated, and a couple of sets of golf clubs.

Kim Jong Il reportedly took up golf in 1994, played one round in 38 under par, including 11 holes-in-one, and then - with nothing left to prove - retired from the game. His feat was reported by, among others, the Daily Telegraph. They did not suggest the report was fact – even the Express is not that stupid - but that it had been reported as fact by the North Korean media. The problem with such stories is that they are not always what they seem. For a probably reliable version of the origin of this myth, click this link to the (South) Korea Times.

Later Kim Stories Requiring a Pinch of Salt

[Update 1:.Kim Jong Un’s uncle, Jang Sung Taek was executed (probably by firing squad) in Dec 2013. The widely reported story that Kim had him torn apart by a pack of wild dogs originated from a satirical post on Weibo – China’s homegrown twitter service.

Update 2: The April 2014 story that all North Korean men must have their hair cut like Kim Jong Un came not from Korea but from 'Radio Free Asia' based in Washington - not actually part of Asia, the last time I looked at a map.]

...and here's a Pyongyang cityscape, for much the same reason

Finally we were led into a central room containing white plaster statutes of the two dead Kims several times life size. You can imagine our elation when we were invited/instructed to line up and bow to them.

A Ride on the Pyongyang Metro

Back on the bus we headed into the city for a ride on the metro. L and I have used the metros of a dozen cities in Europe, Asia and Africa, largely because it is a cheap and convenient way of getting about. Only in Moscow, where some of the stations really are works of art, has travelling on the metro been an end in itself and the Pyongyang metro likes to think it is in the same league. We had been promised a ride of six stops, though persistent rumours said there were only two, or at least only two they were prepared to show us, and the guides would change their minds at the last minute.

We arrived at Puhung (Revitalisation) station, the terminus of the Chollima line, and waited while our guides bought the tickets; we could not buy our own, of course, as the ticket office only accepted local currency and we were not allowed any.

The tickets were tiny, by far the smallest I have seen on any mode of transport. They also cost 5 won (2p) making the metro affordable to most local residents.

The Moscow metro specialises in long steep escalators which move unnervingly quickly. Pyongyang’s were equally steep and if they were rather slower, they made up for it by being even longer. Pyongyang has the world’s deepest metro system, most stations being around 100m below ground; according to rumour it was designed to double as a shelter in the event of a nuclear attack

Down into the bowels of the earth, Puhung Station
Pyongyang Metro

The platform was one of the few places in Pyongyang where we saw a crowd.

Crowded platform, Puhung Station
Pyongyang Metro

It was interesting, but hardly compared with the best of Moscow’s, though we were greeted onto the platform by none other than Kim Il Sung himself. Well, that was a surprise.

Kim Il Sung leads the welcoming party, Puhung Station, Pyongyang Metro

We were informed that we would travel one stop, get off to see Yonggwang (Glory) station, the finest on the network, then continue for another four stops. That scotched some of the rumours.

Despite the crowd on the platform there was plenty of space in the carriage and the guides had little difficulty corralling us at one end and snuffing out the danger of our coming into contact with ordinary people. The doors closed with a whack fierce enough to amputate any limb left in the way, then bounced half open again before finally slapping closed.

If the Koreans had some reason to be proud of their stations, there was nothing special about the trains* and we found ourselves rattling along in a flimsy formica box, though at least the seating was soft. At the end of every carriage was the usual portraits of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il, though the younger Kim is hidden in my photo by the hand rail (I should probably go to prison for that).

A flimsy formica box, Pyongyang metro

We alighted at Yanggwang and had a good look round. It was impressive, I thought, but hardly a threat to Moscow.

Yanggwang Station, Pyongyang metro

Back on the train, the next carriage was more crowded and L found herself seated between a middle aged woman, who sat motionless staring straight ahead, and a young soldier who was nodding off when she sat down and eventually fell asleep on her shoulder.

We stopped at Ponghwa (Beacon), Sungri (Victory) and Tongil (Reunification) before getting off at Kaeson (Triumph). Except for Kaeson, beneath the Arc de Triomphe, station names give no hint of where you are in the city.

At Kaeson, L disentangled herself from the sleeping soldier without waking him and we had time to admire this mural before making for the surface. There is something about socialist realism painting that appeals to me. My inner cynic (never very deeply buried) squeaks with delight at the hopeless mismatch between the people portrayed and everyday reality, and yet it is called ‘realism’. We saw a splendid display of such posters in Tallinn but there the posters are in a museum and the people no longer have to pretend to believe in them. That is, I think, the best way to enjoy them.

[Update: I have since put together a collection of Socialist Realism sculpture, painting and posters from Eastern Europe and North Korea called Socialist Realism and some Western Fantasies, I think it's worth a click.]

Mural, Kaeson Station, Pyongyang metro

We emerged by the Arch of Triumph, which proves that at least one station name is related to what is above it. See Pyongyang(2): A Day for Waving for the story of the arch.

We emerged by the Arch of Triumph, Pyongyang

Not Quite KFC - Who Cares?

We were within walking distance of our designated lunchtime restaurant which was touted as the North Korean version of KFC – not a description that thrilled me**. The meal started with vegetables and pasta in a nondescript sauce, then a huge pile of chips arrived which for once were hot, followed by a small hillock of fried chicken which may have been a little greasy but was also hot. So much of what we had been fed in the previous week had been tepid or cold that I had forgotten how good hot food can be. Washed down with a couple of glasses of draught beer, this plentiful heap of comfort food somehow transformed itself into a delight.

*I am no railway buff and I have no idea where or when the train we travelled in was built, however, I read that the Pyongyang metro rolling stock largely consists of pensioned off trains from the Berlin U-Bahn. We were probably travelling in D series carriages built in West Berlin between 1957 and 1965.

**I last ate KFC in 1983 at a picnic in a park on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington (the western state, not the eastern city). I still regret it.


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