Pyongyang, October 11, 2008, Saturday
Trip Start
Sep 26, 2008
1
20
31
Trip End
Oct 18, 2008
Pyongyang,
Korea Dem Peoples Rep
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Other than that, the beginning of the day in everything else was the same as the day before. First down at the breakfast, followed soon by Nicole and Mathew and then another round on the Yanggakdo island promenade. And at nine o’clock in front of our bus.
Our first destination for today was another thing famous from literature on North Korea and a few documentaries made about it, the American spyship „Pueblo", moored indefinitely alongside the riverbank of the Deadong river
Pyongyang 01
. Probably considered locally the biggest North Korean catch in their decades-long, icy stand-off with the US, it’s proudly shown to foreign visitors in Pyongyang. We were no exception.The US has a long record of claiming that certain incidents in which it was involved, some more and some less serious, took place in „international" waters, air space and so on. Oddly enough, it also has a record of such claims occasionally dissolving into thin air in short order upon closer scrutiny. Such turns of events, in fact, happened way too often for the rest of merited claims to be taken at face value without an impartial examination. Knowing all that, I was inclined to give North Koreans benefit of doubt on this one. As true to the form, Americans maintained the Koreans had captured it in international waters. Koreans said otherwise.
„Pueblo“ may in reality be an insignificant little ship and its importance noticeable only when measured in local, North Korean units. On the global geopolitical stage, particularly more than four decades after it was captured, it may have ceased to be even what little it once used to represent, a tiny dirt speck on a side curtain. But Koreans in the North obviously have their own reasons for not letting the memory of its capture go up in smoke with the passage of time
Pyongyang 02 (photo by Pim Seuren)
. One could argue cynically that they don’t have any better trophy, so this one has simply been trumped by none other and that’s all they could show for. It can’t be denied and it’s true. One may also argue, probably with some well-founded reasons, that local regime needs an external enemy to justify its own existence and can put to a good use every bit of material evidence to support the claim that there is such an enemy out there.But if we want to be fair, we should also acknowledge the rumours that the Americans occasionally did their best to substantiate such constructions and successfully underpin the perception of being just the enemy the Koreans needed. I know rumours are rumours and sometimes a long way from being a fact. Also, as I am giving Koreans a benefit of doubt, I guess a balanced approach should grant the Americans the same thing. But there are stories, understandably not exactly widely touted in the west, of massacres on Korean people at the hands of American forces. For example, on October 17, 1950, a certain Lieutenant Harrison allegedly issued an order to „destroy all red bandits to free North Korea from the communist monsters, hunt and kill all the party members“. And along the way, 910 people - men, women and children – were executed on that day. Certainly, from where I live it’s very difficult to confirm such an account. You can say that North Korean regime – same as every regime in the world – is adept at fabricating the facts, changing history and twisting the reality for its own ends. But you can also say that western powers know the trade very well when it suits their needs, too. So who is lying and who is telling the truth?
Well, either way, „Pueblo“ was there
Pyongyang 03
. And it meant that we were taken aboard and given a tour of the ship by a young soldier girl who was there on duty, along with a lone, young, unarmed marine, standing guard on the riverbank promenade. On one hand, he was still as a pillar, but at the same time he curiously eyed us, not even pretending that he should act out a statue piece. Nobody tried to prevent us taking pictures of him.And then we were aboard. Inspection of the tiny cramped inside of the ship, impossibly small bunks, not much bigger engine room, narrow passages and all the rest was accompanied by the account of how „Pueblo“ had gotten there in the first place. Basically, the ship is where it is because in 1968 it entered into North Korean waters and was captured in short order. The crew, numbering 83 in all, were kept imprisoned for nearly a year until a certain Major General signed an apology on behalf of the American government. The soldier girl claimed it was the only written and signed official apology by the Americans ever. Anyway, the ship crew were then released over the Bridge of No Return into South Korea at the DMZ, the spot I recalled seeing a year before during my excursion to Panmunjom. As part of the deal, the North Koreans also got to keep the ship as a trophy even though the Americans wanted it back. But I guess, they were not in a position to haggle much back then. After we had seen the entire ship, including all the spy equipment, we were treated to a 15-minute long film about the ship’s capture
Pyongyang 04
. It contained some original black-and-white footage with some statements from American prisoners. On the whole, it was obviously made for foreigners and even if unmistakeably narrated by a Korean, the English was good. OK, the narration contained a healthy dose of voice raising and trembling for dramatic impression at strategic points which I suppose should have made it more emotional. In fact, it made it a bit more entertaining, even if not necessarily in the way the authors had had in mind. And then when the film was over, we left the ship.On the promenade, they showed us another war trophy, a kind of mini submarine, sealed in a glass casing. In truth, this submarine looks more like an oversize torpedo. Certainly nothing like a piece of junk any larger vessel should be too worried about. And that was all.
At the end, we all took our turn at having a picture with the young soldier girl in front of the ship. Gul and I did it together. She patiently posed with everybody, and when finally there was no one left any more, we said bye to her and got in the bus again.
Our next stop was the Juchae tower. Or the Tower of Juchae idea, as they also call it. That thing, a granite obelisk 170 m tall, with a ruby torch on top, may well be the tallest accessible structure in Pyongyang. Because the Ryugyong hotel is off-bounds to visitors. Foreigners in particular. The tower is located on the other side of the Daedong river, so we had to cross back the bridge again. It was erected in 1982 to mark Kim Il Sung’s 70th birthday. Its name is taken from the official ideology and philosophy in North Korea, the juchae, which basically means „don’t touch us, we won’t touch you, leave us alone, we can do without you.“ This alone-against-all-flags mentality, neatly labelled “self-reliance“, often executed as „up yours“, was inaugurated, of course, by the old Kim
Pyongyang 05
. Not right away. Once upon a time, there were factions in the ruling party, some leaning towards Soviets and some towards his pal Mao. It took him a while to obliterate them and flush down the sink their leaders. In the manner of every self-respecting politician and ruler, he callously plotted his own survival and power take-over within the party. Of course, as everything in life, it came with a price. In his case it meant alienating in the process both the Soviets and the Chinese from his cause. Left alone and isolated, he decided to make it a virtue out of necessity, and came up with this juchae stuff.From then on it was always a one-way road for him. There was no turning back. So he made it into a philosophy, ideology, even a religion. With himself personally as a head priest and chief ideologue. And both the captain and the guy at the helm of the ship called North Korea. This tower was a material tribute to it all.
They say in the North that during the Korean War the Americans dropped an average of eighteen bombs per square meter of Korean soil, converting all Pyongyang and many other cities into a flatland. The industry, agriculture, infrastructure, everything was thoroughly destroyed. In fact, it’s difficult to tell if that statistics holds true
Pyongyang 06
. I mean, that’s a huge, nearly inconceivable number of bombs. And also, who counted them? I somehow doubt that, regardless of whether it was true or not, anyone bothered to count and keep tab on them if they were really raining from the sky. Thankfully, I’ve never seen war myself and as I get older, the chances for it are dwindling with every new day. But even if I did see it one day, I am not entirely sure I’d feel particularly motivated to count the explosions around me. I guess I’m not that brave. Is anyone?Well, there were bombs, of course. And cities, including Pyongyang, were flattened and turned into sandy pancakes. They remembered it then and they remember it now. I guess today this carefully cultivated memory serves the purpose of shoring up the juchae, should it ever come in doubt.
Anyway, we were brought at the foot of the tower, which was basically on another huge square right by the riverbank, and as there was almost no one there on this by now sunny, but very windy and rather cold day, we were allowed to roam around provided we didn’t get out of sight. A rare cyclist every once in a long while gave out more an air of having lost his way than anything else. And each one made sure not to notice us. We on our part enjoyed the perfect setting for taking pictures with the great view of the opposite side of the river. In front of the tower on our side there was this huge bronze statue of three pillars of Korean society, a worker brandishing a hammer, an intellectual wielding a pen and a peasant woman holding her sickle high up. Each one of them had a book in the other hand. I don’t know what book it was, but I have no doubt that it was either a copy of collected Kim’s works or party tenets all in one
Pyongyang 07
. Which is basically one and the same as it was the old geezer who had laid them down in the first place.And then they took us up to the top.
There’s an elevator going up all the way to the viewing platform from where we could have a superb panorama of the city. Of course, in addition to this gorgeous view, we received a good measure of the wind, just to make sure we knew there were more pleasant conditions to enjoy yourself up there. And up there, at the height of hundred and some metres the wind was pretty merciless, but we all decided it was worth putting up with it for a while. But then, after some time almost everyone was blown through and frozen to the bone, so we got down.
At the bottom of the elevator there was another souvenir shop where Pim decided he would to buy a bottle of soju, a sort of Korean brandy which could come with all sorts of things, and in this particular case they had put some snakes in it. Each bottle had one and Pim selected one of the bigger. Of course, a big bottle contained a correspondingly big snake. Now, whether the snake was stoned dead or they had killed it before they had put it in the bottle remained unclear
Pyongyang 08
. No one offered any explanations. Also, Pim didn’t let on how he was going to use the contents of the bottle. He didn’t give any clues as to whether he was going to drain it yourself or give it away as a present. Either way, he was the only one who purchased a boozed-up snake. The rest of us only looked on in amusement.Next stop was just up the river. So we were back in the bus again, and after a very short ride we were unloaded on another huge square. This time it was what Mrs Lee called the Party Foundation Monument Square. I suppose she knew what she was talking about even if no source I had on me ever made any mention of that name. However, what there was no doubt about was the fact that there was this Party Foundation Monument there, with huge hammer, sickle and paintbrush. Or at least it looked as a paintbrush here, as opposed to the pen which I had thought it had been by the Juchae Tower. Therefore, who knows, maybe the square is called like that after all.
Anyway, this monument, constructed to mark the 50th anniversary of the founding of the Workers Party, is basically a low circular platform supporting three stylised hands, each one said to be fifty metres high and brandishing one of those symbols already mentioned. They rise from within a circle, or circular wall, whose outer surface is a plain base for slogans, something along the lines of „hail the Worker’s Party of Korea“ and touting „people’s victory“. I’m not entirely sure of exact meaning but it gives a rough idea as to what it rants about. The inside surface is a long frieze with carved images of stern-looking, jaw-clenching North Korean workers, peasants and soldiers. Even if still fascinating, by now it was gradually becoming a usual stuff
Pyongyang 09
.On the other side of the wide boulevard flanking this square, opposite from where we stood, there was another huge clearing, across which we could clearly make out the Mansudae Hill with the Grand Monument, the one we had visited the day before, and beyond it the notorious, still unfinished Ryugyong Hotel. This spot was quite neat, but pretty empty, with an odd car here or there, and just a few more people than vehicles. It beckoned for some football on wide, parched grass surfaces. But our schedule was too tight. I asked Mrs Lee what was this place opposite from where we were.
„It’s Kim Il Sung Square,“ she claimed straight-faced. Speaking of faces, I took it at face value right then, convinced that she knew what she was talking about. Later, though, none of the sources I had on me would confirm that. Instead, they all placed the Kim Il Sung Square on the other side of the river. So Mrs Lee was clearly mistaken. How and why, it absolutely beats me. Unless, of course, more than one square in Pyongyang bears the old Kim’s name. Not entirely impossible, I’d say.
Right by the Party Foundation Monument there’s a kind of museum or something, but at this point no one seemed to be too interested in taking us there
Pyongyang 10
. Instead, on the first floor there was another souvenir shop which we were soon taken to and given all the time we needed to boost North Korean economy and inflate its foreign currency income. And having said that, I must be honest and admit that this shop beat the previous one in every respect. Much bigger and more neatly arranged, this one was obviously the trickiest spot for our wallets so far. In addition to endless rows of pointless „works“ by the Kims in the form of hard-cover books, which none of us was interested in, and some pretty bland and uninspiring CDs and monographs on North Korea, they did have some real gems here. The collection of stamps was something you should see to believe. In all sizes and shapes, obviously with a lot of effort and inspiration invested in them, with some fantastic soc-realist motives which in their drolly way acquired a quirky, but real value for all of us from the west, we all gave in to temptation to buy a few. Simon told us that we could stick most of them to any of the postcards we might want to send back home from North Korea, and clearly all of us wanted to add a few. Including myself who had already sent all of my postcards the night before. But I too wouldn’t pass this opportunity to buy a few of those wonderful stamps and stick them on a postcard or two, which were basically just small-size propaganda posters like those we were seeing out in the streets all along. I picked two depicting workers, soldiers, flags, tools and weapons, and then set out on a search for proper stamps
Pyongyang 11 (photo by Pim Seuren)
. Which was no easy task. The moment you were almost sure you found your pick, almost next to it you’d spot something that looked even more bizarre.But I finally discovered what I really wanted. In fact, Simon pointed it out to me:
„This guy was from your country, wasn’t he?“
I got closer to have a look and saw a series of stamps showing the old geezer Kim with foreign guests on state visits to North Korea. And the „guy from my country“ on one of the stamps was, of course, Tito.
„Yes, it’s Tito,“ I confirmed.
„That might be interesting to your people, I guess.“
„In a way, yes. But I’m not sure it would go down well with everybody over there.“
„Oh, I see.“
But then again, on the second thought, the more I looked at the stamp, the more I liked it
Pyongyang 12
. So I decided to buy this Tito thing and lump in Erich Honecker and Nicolae Ceausescu, as well. The four of them did belong together anyway. However, it turned out this state-visits series on display was the only one they had and couldn’t be for sale. So eventually I had to settle for some huge Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il portraits.To my pleasant surprise I also copped a „see you again in Pyongyang“ T-shirt. Now that was a souvenir I really liked. I couldn’t even begin to bet whether this Pyongyangeseo mannaja thing would ever come true for me, but T-shirt would be there to at least remind me of the possibility.
It seemed the visit to this shop was a roaring success for our hosts. We in the group clearly left more money here than in that shop over there at the intersection with traffic girls. However, the runaway record breaker was Gul. He splashed nine hundred euro just for stamps.
„I asked them how much all the stamps would cost me,“ he said to us on our way out of the shop. „They told me that the complete stock would go for four or five thousand euro. If I could use my credit card here, I’d buy it all out.“
Now, this was way beyond the league of most of the rest of us
Pyongyang 13
. We just nodded and slightly shook our heads, and hoped for Gul to bring along more cash next time.After the Party Foundation Monument and the adjacent souvenir shop, it was time for lunch in our hotel, only this time in a basement restaurant. And after lunch – another souvenir shop. However, understandably, this one was a miss. Nobody, not even Gul, was particularly interested in buying anything any more. In fact, as soon as Mr Lee realised that there wouldn’t be much trade here and announced that we should „end the shopping“, I went into the street to simply, well, have a look-see there. The few of us who scurried out of the shop at the first chance to do so, couldn’t really go anywhere far. Mr Sung was out there and he made sure that we waited for the rest of the pack without going anywhere. But still, it was infinitely more interesting than the shop itself.
Saturday is a working day in North Korea, so we didn’t encounter any cordial scenes today as we had the day before. In fact, the whole day today, people in the streets were so few that if we had not seen North Koreans in droves and festive mood the day before, I’d have had a lot darker impression of the country and its capital so far. I would have inevitably asked myself who all those huge residential blocks were inhabited with in the first place
Pyongyang 14
. This way, I was just wondering where all the crowd had disappeared.However, the weather was great, the people in my group very nice and overall it was a great trip so far. I wished for a bit more freedom, but you can’t have it all, I guess.
And, standing there in front of the third souvenir shop and waiting for everyone to gather, I saw my first western couple on their own in Pyongyang. By my guess in their late fifties, they stood out in every way. Both dressed smartly in latest western fashion, they talked to each other and confidently walked up the street past our group, obviously knowing their way around and having a clear idea where they were going. And, what really struck me most, there were no guides or minders about them. They were entirely by themselves, walking about freely and no one intercepted them, telling them where they could or couldn’t go.
They were most likely diplomatic staff in one of the few western missions in Pyongyang. You didn’t need gumshoe skills to work that one out. I would have given a lot for just one day of freedom in Pyongyang like that. I didn’t envy them a single bit on their diplomatic posts
Pyongyang 15
. But I envied them every bit on their freedom to go any way they wanted.Well, they went wherever they went, and we next went to Victorious Fatherland Liberation War Museum. Off it was across the Daedong river once again, to another huge, almost deserted no-name square whose main features were surrounding box-like multi-storey residential blocks and a huge mandatory billboard, depicting Kim Il Sung with his right arm raised in – let me be naughty here – typical Nazi fashion above the sea of red flags, peasants and workers. Victorious Fatherland Liberation War Museum was tucked in one of the corners of this square.
In North Korea, the Korean War is called the Victorious Fatherland Liberation War, so this is what this stop was all about. When we arrived, we were met by a stout museum guide who, uniformed as she was, must have served her stint in the army, as well. Of course, she spoke no English and it was all down to Mrs Lee and her translation on the spot. From the word go, it was basically all like Mr Kim this and Mr Kim that, Mr Kim here and Mr Kim there. True, we were shown some military hardware, as well, a lot of it captured from the Yanks and proudly displayed in the museum cellars, but I had a hard time deciding which part bored more crap out of me, the omnipresent Kim or the junk people used for killing each other
Pyongyang 16
. So if I had not been able to contain my yawns on May Day Stadium during Mass Games the day before, which are a spectacle in their own right under any circumstances, then this thing easily turned into the lowest point of the trip for me as of yet.Of course, the fact that this museum visit dragged on for me almost indefinitely was just the way things looked from my perspective. Others were clearly much more thrilled. Mathew, James, Eddie, Chris... they couldn’t stop taking pictures of all the weaponry, jeeps, tanks and airplanes and to me it was definitely more interesting to watch them enjoy themselves than the exhibits on display. Everything comes to an end, though, even if it sometimes seems it never will. But everyone knows that never usually comes much sooner than we think, so that’s how it was here, as well. We climbed out of the cellars with weapons and they were now taking us to a hall with cyclorama, as they call it.
On our way up something caught my eye.
On one of the museum walls I saw another huge painting of Kim, this one depicting the Great Leader behind a negotiating table, which basically meant cut in half
Pyongyang 17
. Clearly aware of all the strict rules they had laid down for us here, one of them being this one against cutting Great Leader’s figure in half, I was puzzled. So I turned to Mrs Lee:„Mrs Lee, you said we were not to cut Mr Kim’s figure in half when we took pictures, right?“
„That’s right,“ she said. „You may not cut Mr Kim’s figure in half. It must at all times be taken as a whole.“
„Then can you explain me why this painting shows his figure cut in half?“
Her eyes first followed the direction of my finger and then saw something which she had probably never taken notice of before. Great Leader behind a desk, clearly without legs and manly parts right above them to boot. It was evident that she’d been caught off guard and now didn’t know what to say. For a brief moment at least. But then it turned out the rules could be bent after all. Or invented as you go. Either way, she regained her posture very soon and explained that you could cut Mr Kim’s figure in half if it’s somewhere around stomach or lower
Pyongyang 18
. Anyway...And then we were taken to that cyclorama hall. In essence, it meant that we entered a dome with a circular platform which could rotate inside of it, and the sides of the dome were painted to show some of the battles Koreans had fought in the Victorious Fatherland Liberation War. Lights were dimmed to the point of near darkness and we all took seats on that platform which started revolving lazily around its axis. Our soldier girl turned museum guide kept rattling off Mr Kim’s unparalleled feats, Mrs Lee duly interpreted for us and I inevitably – nodded off.
Outside again, back on that empty square, we were unexpectedly treated to a very nice surprise for everyone. When we expected to get on the bus, Mr Lee announced:
„Before we go to dinner, we take a walk to the Monument to Victorious Fatherland.“
You could see on everybody’s face that this walk was the best thing that had happened to everybody today. We all yearned to be out of the bus and as close to local everyday life as we possibly could. So this looked to be a rare chance for it.
Of course, none of us lived under any illusions. We all knew that our guides would never let us go anywhere they deemed unfit or compromising in any way. Whatever standards they had to decide what was fit and what not. We were aware that this chance for a stroll didn’t come out of the blue and they had most likely known all along that if ever they would let us out, it would be here
Pyongyang 19
. Yet, we were grateful for it.And much as this stretch was most certainly chosen well in advance, if you looked well and looked hard, you could have an odd glimpse of North Korea that our guides must have been instructed to hide from us. Once we crossed the big, nearly empty square in the last of the sunshine for today, we came to a bridge across the Potong river, one of the Daedong tributaries in Pyongyang. From there, not far away, we could see the looming Ryugyong hotel, the unfinished behemoth on top of which a tiny crane was perched. Simon said that some Egyptian consortium was about to strike a deal with North Korean authorities and invest into finishing the hotel. In return they would get rights to start developing first GSM network in the country.
But much closer to us, along the both banks of the Potong river, there was park area. Not too neat and tidy, and yet not entirely a jungle. Something along the lines of the Moranbong park the day before. But people here were not picnicking. Some of them were crouching in small groups, some just walking up the gravel path leading under our bridge, and a few, betraying the first obvious signs of poverty, seemed to be filching scraps of unidentified nature, stuffing them into plastic bags and trying to hide behind trees
Pyongyang 20
. That was a glimpse of Pyongyang that had eluded us before.To be fair, of course, there were people coming our way from across the bridge who fit the description of those we had mostly seen before. Those you could term middle North Korean class. On the bridge there was also one of those blue-and-white stalls with sweets, snacks and drinks. Not exactly overstocked, but not empty, either. Interestingly enough, when I started taking pictures of it, no one as much as cocked an eyebrow. Which brought me back to similar thing the day before. The more we were in North Korea, the clearer it was to me that many of the rules were open to interpretation and literally depended on the whim of particular guide.
Or maybe, the more familiar our guides grew with us, the more relaxed about the rules they grew.
Either way, the bridge brought us to the Monument to Victorious Fatherland and the namesake square.
„Now we shall take a group picture here,“ Mrs Lee said. Nobody minded and Pim lent Simon his camera for the occasion
Pyongyang 21
. We took our position below the bronze statue of a soldier who was allegedly yelling „hurry“ to his comrades and urging them to charge at the Ryugyong hotel. Our guides joined us and a minute later we had first of our group pictures.This site itself was constructed in 1993 to mark the 40th anniversary of the end of the active hostilities in the Korean War. In effect, it is a white stone park of bronze sculptures depicting assorted battles of that war and dedicated to the „Korean People’s Army and Korean people who defeated the US imperialists and its allies during the Fatherland Liberation War.“ Occasionally drawing inspiration from European monumental architecture for their own showpieces, this particular one is based on Berlin’s Victory Tower, which was erected in the wake of the French defeat at the hands of Prussians in 19th century.
When this visit to the Monument to Victorious Fatherland came to its close, we were told that it was now time to have dinner. Again, we were allowed to go back on foot, this time along the Potong river where we could see people take small boats in urgent need of refurbishing and enjoy themselves on the water. It was unclear whether those boats were free for everyone to use, provided there were available ones, or maybe they were there to rent
Pyongyang 22
. But I doubted that. In countries like North Korea renting was probably still an unknown concept. There were kids on some boats, too, with their red scarves and the atmosphere on the Potong river in this very late afternoon, or early evening, was peaceful and serene.Our stroll got us to the six-lane Yongung street. The restaurant we would have dinner in was located in one of the buildings there. This huge thoroughfare was almost completely empty and you would be tempted to say that each lane was serving one car at a time. Whether that math really added up, it was difficult to tell but I would bet that even if it was off the mark, it couldn’t have been way too far. Otherwise, how else would we have been able to freely take pictures of the Yongung street, standing on the middle double line dividing the street down its length, three lanes a side?
The restaurant was in the same range as every other we had eaten in so far, most certainly carefully selected for the foreigners. And when the dinner was over, and we finally stood up to head back towards our hotel, black night met us out in the street. No street lights, just pale ones from the apartments in residential buildings, and I was wondering how people who you could occasionally make out when caught in our bus headlights were walking around
Pyongyang 23
. But people were there. On our way to the hotel we could even notice a camp fire in the open here or there in some suburbs where locals gathered and spent part of their evening.Our hotel was a different world.
When the bus pulled over in front of the entrance gate, Mrs Lee called for everyone’s attention:
“Tomorrow morning after breakfast we are visiting Kumsunsan Memorial Palace. This is our President Kim Il Sung’s final resting place, so everyone please dress smartly for the occasion. Kumsunsan Memorial Palace is a very important place for all Koreans and every person in the country is expected to pay it a visit at least once during their life."
Then she went on to outline the dress code for tomorrow. Shirt and tie for men, of course. When she was done, and people started leaving the bus, I stopped her for a second and said:
“Mrs Lee, I am sorry, but I don’t have a shirt and tie on me. When they told us about that, I was already travelling, so it was too late.”
Now, that was a problem
Pyongyang 24
. Obviously. One of the things that shouldn’t have happened. So Mrs Lee for the second time today didn’t quite know what to say. At first. Trying to help with finding a way out of the fix, I offered:“I really meant no disrespect. Perhaps if it’s a problem, I can wait it out, in the bus or in the hotel. It would be fine with me.”
However, the moment I said that, I realised that only this would be the real disaster. Having a foreign tourist in your group who would skip a visit to Kumsunsan Memorial Palace, now that would be a true loss of face for our hosts. So the prospect of having a visitor without a shirt and tie in the mausoleum was evidently a far lesser evil than having this visitor sitting it out in the bus. The solution was suddenly obvious. Mrs Lee regained her confidence, eventually took it in stride and said:
“No, it’s OK. Dress the best you can and it’ll be fine.”
I nodded, thanked her and left the bus. Another strict rule that wasn’t all that strict after all.
I was tired and sleepy. So I decided to go to bed reasonably early. But before that I wanted to do one more thing. I wanted to send home those fascinating revolutionary postcards I had bought in the souvenir shop and stick those dandy, pertinent Kim Il Sung stamps on them. Stamps being of king size, I realised they would either cover part of the address or hide some of the text, so I tried to fit them onto postcards by placing them horizontally
Pyongyang 25
. Which literally appalled two ladies at the hotel post office and caused general consternation. When they noticed I was going to stick the stamps horizontally, they jumped off their chairs in terror, literally screaming. I was taken aback.The Great Leader, as one must know, and as I learned this evening, can only stand upright and everything else is sacrilege. Even if it means sacrificing a part of your written text. Or even address. Well, you learn something new every day, I guess. So today I learned that old Kim’s figure could be cut in half when, well, it is cut in half already, but his stamps must stand upright, come rain or shine. Which added one more dippy rule to the whole stack of those that had already been laid down for us.
All in all, at the end of my third day in Pyongyang, I could safely claim that this North Korean visit was a lot of fun so far. I was clearly tempted to say I’d like to come again.
