Submitted by a reader at my invitation, and unedited:
Arriving on a cold but tolerable Saturday afternoon our first stop was the Arch de Triumph, which is metres taller than the one in Paris, next to Kim Il-sung Stadium. Within minutes of arrival a thick plume of smoke became visible rising behind some buildings nearby. After about ten minutes the Arch wasn’t visible at all because of the smoke, from a distance of no more than 100 metres and I mentioned to my female guide, Mrs Choi that I would think that the fire brigade should be on its way and she agreed. The more senior, dour, male guide Mr Yoon perhaps taking offense at what I said (although none was honestly intended) chipped in to me with his first words to me that North Korea does indeed have a fire brigade. I tried to find out in the following days about the fire but neither the English language ‘Pyongyang Times’ (printed only every Saturday so of no help) or the Korean language ‘Rodong Sinmun’ reported on it.
The following morning was perhaps the coldest I’ve ever felt on the Korean peninsular with wind chill factor I guess around -15oC. While the temperature inside Kim Il-sung‘s mausoleum is controlled and therefore comfortable, outside was so unbearably cold we quickly found the sanctuary on the bus more appealing. Most North Koreans on the streets did have jackets and gloves and I felt sorry for the few that didn’t. With the continuing energy shortages perhaps being outside is no different from being inside an unheated house.
My guides well aware that I live in Seoul and speak Korean were keen to know my observations of the upcoming South Korean Presidential elections. I told Mrs Choi that their guy (Chung Dong-young) has no chance and that they should pray to God that Lee Hoi-chang doesn’t win as that would cause major changes to North/South relations. I told them both that most likely Lee Myung-bak will be the next president and that the easy money from the South will be reduced but not stopped completely but other than that relations probably won’t change too much.
I also explained that (what appeared to be genuine shock) that Roh’s visit to Pyongyang was met with either disinterest, disagreed with or downright anger with many protests against it. When asked why I answered because of the amount of money that South Korea has to give. When asked how much I said the estimated figure keeps rising but I have read upto $US100 billion.
Furthermore I mentioned the contrast with Kim Dae-jung’s visit in 2000 when I don’t recall any disapproval or protests even from those usually hard-line towards the North as there was genuine optimism for serious change. But now everyone knows that it is a last minute cash grab from a failed lame-duck unpopular president and Kim Jong-il also knows it may well be his last chance for such easy cash in a while.
With winter approaching I took two large bags of kids’ jackets, winter boots, gloves, socks etc. that I had bought myself and collected from a friend’s Church to give out. Although just a relatively tiny number of children would receive anything I wanted to help beat the winter cold for even a few. I asked Mrs Choi whether it would be possible to deliver them somewhere in Hyangsan, North Pyong-an Province where the weather is colder and people poorer while we were visiting Mt. Myohyang. She said they have no contacts there but that maybe a kindergarten in Pyongyang may be possible. She arranged it for Tuesday afternoon (for me alone while the others were visiting the War Museum) after our return trip from Panmunjom and Kaesong. Very heavy snowfall on Monday evening forced our driver to drive slower and more carefully and we arrived in Pyongyang later than planned. I assumed our visit would have been postponed until the following morning and so was surprised when the bus driver, Mr Yoon and I drove to a part of Pyongyang that I am sure was an elite area. We stopped at a checkpoint and when Mr Yoon told him about me the soldier manually opened a roadblock. Many houses had a soldier guarding out the front and neither Mr Yoon nor the bus driver had been there before. We found the kindergarten and the kindergarten principal led us into her office. Now about 6.30 and without a single light on in the neighbourhood she used a small flashlight for light. The principal thanked me profusely for the clothes and expressed disappointment that I was late as she had planned a small performance for me by some students. She told me about herself and the kinder; she had worked there for twenty years and that it is a weekly kindergarten, i.e. the 800 students attending there sleep there from Monday to Saturday while their parents work. At that point I was shocked by the realization that the 800 kids were right above me doing something in the dark with still 2-1/2 hours until their bedtimes. Upon leaving her office to return to the bus I could hear a few giggles and I asked myself the question, “Why with electricity in such short supply were the lights on paintings with Kim Il-sung‘s picture on them at the Pyongyang film studios the previous night and the big statue of him at Mansudae is always well lit up yet none is available for kindergarten children?”
Earlier in the day at Kaesong after lunch I witnessed the fear based hierarchy of North Korea’s class system first hand. After lunch a small walk was permitted in the vicinity of the restaurant which is in what looks like the centre of town at the bottom of the hill 500 metres or so from the Kim Il-sung statue. As I had finished lunch a little later than the others and then brushed my teeth I was the last to leave the restaurant. Not hearing the instructions I saw three guys straight ahead and walked quickly to catch up to them while the rest of our group correctly turned left from the restaurant intersection. About 150 metres from the restaurant two guys turned off the wider main road into a small market. I, and the other guy, could sense that this was forbidden and decided to stay on the main road and wait. A few minutes later the bus was coming towards us and a frantic Mr Yoon asked where the other two guys were and I told him in the market, which had about twenty stalls with only one thing for sale, radish that no one was buying. Mr Yoon ran into the market, his urgency at finding the two obvious. He asked harshly why to them why they had walked off into there and demanded that they don’t do it again. Driven back to the restaurant area I witnessed a tirade like I never have never seen before. A man, in his mid-fifties, who I later learned is a high ranking Workers’ Party official in Kaesong was pushing and pulling the clothes of our guides, was frothing at the mouth with every second word a “fuck” or “son of a bitch” and writing something down on a piece of paper. After about five minutes of this, which must have seem like a lifetime to the guides, they re-entered the bus, shaking, begging us not to wander off again.
The Olympic qualifier soccer game between Australia and North Korea was going to be the highlight of the trip for me. Changed to 3pm Wednesday afternoon instead of its original evening schedule to save electricity a crowd of about 6-8 thousand was in attendence. Apart from North Korea’s only goal the North Korean spectators sat quietly and passively for the duration of the game-not even booing when Australia scored a controversial match tieing goal late in the game. I couldn’t help but compare them to the noisy, passionate and lively South Korean ‘Red Devils’.
Arriving in Sinuiju for border formalities the rude border guards now check digital photos taken on the trip to check if any unflattering photos of the country or its leaders were taken. A guy in my carriage had to delete a photo he had surrepticiously took of some soldiers and a photo of Kim Jong-il that was a little too dark as the flash on his camera didn’t work.
Like the episode in Kaesong, the unsheduled ‘real North Korea‘ is far more interesting than the numerous murals and monuments. With our guides back in Pyongyang, Sinuiju provided the last opportunity for such an experience. With the border formalities requiring a couple of hours and the leaving of Sinuiju train station forbidden a visit to the station’s bar was the only option to sitting on the train. The weather freezing outside forcing all the windows to remain closed gave a literal meaning to the term ‘smoky bar’. The bar sold surprisingly nice draft beer scooped up from a plastic tub for $US1 for a 500ml glass and dried squid. A lonely figure seated in the corner offered up his seat next to him to one in our group and gave me a surprisingly warm smile. I made small talk with him and he told me that he is a judge in Sinuiju and could speak a little English, Chinese and Russian because of his law studies. I told him my still living grandfather is a retired magistrate and he asked me about Australian law. At his request I summoned a pen and he wrote his address on my daughter’s passport photo that I was showing him. (And it certainly doesn’t bother me that he wrote it but I would love to know the reason for him doing so). I’m debating whether to write him a letter or not just to see if I get a return letter. Our interesting conversation was cut short by the rude order of “quickly go” of the border guards gesturing us to reboard the train leaving for Dandong.
Safely out of the abnormal North Korea in a China that ironically seems so ‘free’ in comparison, Beijing bound I had a bizzare encounter with a KPA soldier of a rank I didn’t ask who chillingly explained to me what he thought of the US. Using a low form of Korean and lots of dismissive hissing between the teeth to each other he made no attempt to hide his hostility towards the country.
Our summarized conversation went something like this:
“Ah, America’s weak.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s strong”
“No, it isn’t. It’s weak! If it’s strong why doesn’t it attack (North) Korea?”
“China.”
” No it’s beacuse North Korea is strong. We have missiles and a nuclear bomb.”
“Ha. Your nuclear test last year was a failure.”
“Was not.”
“Was so.”
“How do you know?”
“International experts and media reported it as such. I read it in the Chosun Ilbo.”
“Ah, the Chosun Ilbo lies.”
“And what about the Rodong Sinmun?”
…
“And the US Army are cowards.” When he would say this he would make a big nose with his finger and ferociously head-butt it.
“No, they’re not.”
“Yes, they are.”
“No, they’re not.”
“You saw the Pueblo in Pyongyang right? Look at the way they all surrendered. Cowards! Us North Koreans would
say ‘shoot us’ rather than surrender.”
“Yes, but the Pueblo was caught in international waters.”
“No, North Korean waters.”
“No, international waters.”
…
“So anyway, how’s the North Korean economy doing?”
“Good.”
“If it’s so good and North Korea is so strong and the US weak, why does the US give your country rice and oil?”
This kind of goading went on for about twenty minutes before I finished my can of beer and called it a night. He kept emphasizing that Iraq and North Korea are different (in case of war between the US and North Korea) and I was baiting him that the US is free and beautiful and the whole world envies it.