Infiltrating North Korea Part 3: The enigma of Pyongyang

by Neil Woodburn on


I was quite pleased to discover that Pyongyang does not suffer from the typical communist infatuation with soulless concrete and is, instead, a rather pleasant city blessed with wide boulevards, spacious squares, picturesque parks, tree-lined sidewalks, traditional architecture and modern buildings.

What truly separates it from other parts of Asia, however, are its many communist accoutrements.

Propaganda comes in all shapes and sizes in Pyongyang and it’s simply impossible to avoid. The city is flush with politically charged statues, mosaics, posters, and monuments–which will be discussed later–as well as bright red flags festooned with the North Korean hammer, sickle and brush (paying tribute to the worker, peasant and intellectual).

Despite the negative association of the hammer and sickle in the Western world, these flags are actually quite festive and lend a welcome splash of color to the city. They’re also enjoyably anachronistic, making it seem as though I had traveled back in time to 1950s Moscow all proudly awash in communist red.
So, this is what it was like in the Soviet Bloc before the Wall came down and capitalism rushed in with its neon signs, billboards, and McDonald’s. I thought at first it would feel like being on a movie set where everything feels slightly fake and manufactured. But the red flags and banners just felt right, like they belonged–this was, after all, the real thing.
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The most pleasant discovery of Pyongyang, however, was that it was not the polluted wasteland of acidic air and soot stained masonry so commonly found in other communist capitals. This struck me the moment I stepped on to the tarmac of the Pyongyang airport. I had flown in from China, one of the most polluted countries on this planet, and was quite taken back by the sudden shock of fresh air when we landed. This is because the North Korean capital relies mostly on hydroelectric energy instead of the cheaply burning lignite coal more commonly used throughout Eastern Europe.

The air is kept even cleaner by the fact that there were almost no cars on the streets–the place was an automotive ghost town. Pyongyang and the rest of North Korea, as it turns out, operates almost entirely on foot and bike power. Pedestrians and bicyclists were everywhere. They weren’t bunched up and crowding the sidewalks and street corners, however. Pyongyang is sparsely populated and its mobile citizens were always strung out and scattered with yards of separation between them. It was a lonely, spacious form of transportation indicative of the country itself.


The exception was the always overcrowded city busses. Commuters on street corners throughout the capital waited in very long lines for these busses, lines that were freakishly orderly as though as though anyone who stepped out of place would be punished in some manner or another.
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This sense of order permeates the city. This is because only the most privileged of North Koreans (i.e. the party faithful) are allowed to live in Pyongyang. This means that all three million of them are constantly on their best behavior for fear of getting kicked off the “island” and banished to some provincial North Korean backwater. This is my theory, at least. And, I don’t think it’s too far from the truth. This explains why the bus lines are so orderly, the residents are constantly doffed up in their finest suits, there is absolutely no crime, and not a spot of litter to be seen anywhere–although with the dearth of consumer disposables and lack of fast food containers, there really isn’t too much to actually litter with. This passion for keeping things clean and orderly even extends to the most remote areas of North Korea where women can be seen sweeping the highway in the middle of nowhere without a village for miles.

Of course, being a good socialist means taking care of yourself and your society, so a healthy dose of communist rhetoric coupled with some good old fashioned totalitarian fear has gone a long way in keeping the capital squeaky clean and orderly–albeit cursed with somewhat of a stilted atmosphere.

Yesterday: The Challenges of Being a Tourist
Tomorrow: The Architecture of Pyongyang

Infiltrating North Korea Part 2: The challenges of being a tourist

by Neil Woodburn on


If my hotel was any inclination of what to expect in North Korea–and it turned out to be–my time spent in the Hermit Kingdom would be as a distant observer far removed from the everyday life and culture of North Koreans and cut off from the general populace itself.

Yanggakdo Hotel is a foreigners-only hotel located on a small island in the middle of a river near the center of Pyongyang (the building on the left in the photo below). Locals were not allowed near it and foreigners couldn’t step off the island without their designated tour guide. In fact, merely walking out the hotel doors for some fresh air in the evening was usually met with nervous doormen who would shoo me back inside to the numerous hotel amenities designed to keep captive tourists entertained–such as a bowling alley, health spa, pool, ping pong tables, and even a small casino in the basement.
Even if I had managed to sneak out, I wouldn’t have gotten far. There were no taxis to take me anywhere and, for that matter, there was nowhere to go. Bars simply didn’t exist and showing up to a restaurant without my “minder” would have caused a panic. Plus, there was the small matter of money. Foreigners weren’t allowed to possess North Korean currency and any local discovered taking dollars from a tourist was in for some big problems. Lastly, I’m a 6’4″ American with light brown hair; sneaking out and blending in with the populace just wasn’t going to happen.

One simply cannot wander about on one’s own in North Korea. Every tour group is manned by at least one tour guide and one member of the Ministry of the Interior (i.e. the secret police). Of course every secret policeman has a cover story–like being a teacher or translator–but don’t believe it. They will observe and report back to their superiors and, as a result, visitors have to be careful with everything they say. I never felt threatened or too worried, but I also never felt safe enough to truly say what I wanted to.

Our minders basically had three tasks; to show us around, keep us from talking with the locals, and to prevent us from taking photographs when we weren’t supposed to.

I’m sure it wasn’t too difficult to prevent communication with most groups of American tourists because of the language barrier. The small tour group I randomly joined, however, was mostly made up of missionaries living in Asia who actually spoke some Korean. They knew the rules, however, and spoke only brief greetings to people walking by. Our minders, always at our side, made sure the conversation didn’t progress beyond that.

It was very strange. I’ve never been anywhere where I couldn’t communicate in some manner or another with the locals, thereby gaining insight into living conditions and culture that only can be gleamed from first hand experience. Nor have my movements ever been completely controlled; we could only go where they wanted us to go in North Korea and see only what they wanted us to see. We couldn’t wander into a neighborhood store or market or anywhere off the carefully choreographed itinerary. In fact, after we pushed too hard one evening to visit somewhere off the itinerary, I was surprised to hear our frustrated guide quote Shakespeare in telling us that it wasn’t possible, “It doesn’t mean I love Caesar any less, it just means that I love Rome more.”

Therefore, the most revealing snippets of life were snatched from the windows of our minivan as we drove between sanctioned locations. That’s why so many of my photos are at odd angles and blurry; sticking the camera out the window of a moving minivan and shooting a click-and-pray was always a hit or miss ordeal.

But even this wasn’t easy. Like everything else in North Korea, photography is also carefully controlled. We could take photographs anywhere within the capital–except of soldiers–but once outside the city limits of Pyongyang, we weren’t allowed to take any shots unless specifically told it was okay. We often asked and were usually told the same thing.

One morning while driving outside of Pyongyang, we stopped at a simple, non-descript building that sold snacks to tourists. I’m not sure why someone wanted to take a photo of this boring structure but our guide turned us down nonetheless. “No you can’t,” he told us, and then added with a smile, “but of course I don’t know why.”

It actually became a running joke in our group and a telling insight into what life was like in this hyper-paranoid country. “Well of course you can take photos,” we’d mimic, “just not here.”

Our tour group was therefore limited to the state sanctioned, hygienically scrubbed, life-is-rosy perspective just as the government wanted it to be. As a result, visiting North Korea on a guided tour is like visiting 5th Avenue and assuming the rest of New York is just as swanky. Unfortunately, the following posts in this series are therefore limited in their exposure as a result.

Furthermore, I’m following the lead of the North Korean government and exercising some censorship myself. Certain photos and very minor incidents which occurred (and which might seem inconsequential to the reader), could certainly have ramifications for those involved or photographed. I’ve even chosen not to post any shots of our minders, both of whom were basically good guys simply doing their jobs.

And so, I’m forced to present a somewhat biased look at North Korea–certainly a somewhat biased look is better than no look at all. But don’t worry: despite the state’s best attempts to shield us, there are plenty of chinks in the armor and cracks in the smoke and mirrors; North Korea is not the worker’s paradise it claims to be and this is painfully obvious no matter how distanced we were from the day-to-day reality of the world’s last Hermit Kingdom.

Yesterday: Infiltrating North Korea Part 1
Tomorrow: The Enigma of Pyongyang

Photo of the Day (12/6/07)

by Neil Woodburn on


Today’s Photo of the Day comes to us from North Korea–site of my most recent vacation. And yes, I’ve nominated one of my own photographs for today’s honor.

I personally find this photograph interesting because I was naturally concerned that there would be very little food for us to eat in North Korea. I was wrong. Although the general population might be suffering from malnutrition, the government has made sure that tourists have access to all the food they need. And, it’s often presented in the quaint style featured above. Just don’t ask me what it was. Other than rice, bean curds, and kimchi, I rarely knew what I was putting in my mouth; but I suppose I was fortunate enough to be putting anything in there to begin with.

Today also kicks off a new travel feature here on Gadling, Infiltrating North Korea. If you’ve ever wondered what the Hermit Kingdom is like, be sure to check it out.

Infiltrating North Korea Part 1

by Neil Woodburn on


My first impression of North Korea was just what I expected: an old, weathered airport crowded with dour-faced people in uniforms.

Policemen, soldiers, customs officials, airline employees and lord knows what other branch of the government requiring a uniform were all packed into the arrival terminal at Pyongyang International Airport looking stern and threatening. It was an intimidating show of force and I was not looking forward to a cadre of officials tearing apart my luggage in search of whatever they might consider contraband. But instead, my baggage was simply x-rayed by a stoic soldier who asked me, in probably the only English he knew, “Cell phone?”

Cell phones are not allowed into North Korea and I watched as those behind me surrendered their only link to the outside world to customs officials who would eventually return them five days later when it was time to depart.

I had flown in on a Russian Tupalov jet from Shenyang, China on a very low trajectory that never took us above the cloud layer. The countryside below was gray, misty, and depressing–just as I had always imagined it would be–and occasionally intersected by random dirt roads with hardly any vehicles on them.

After months of planning, logistics, and cancellations due to political summits and floods, I had finally made it to the world’s most reclusive country. It wasn’t easy: the hermit kingdom doesn’t normally allow Americans into the country. In fact, last summer was the first time they did so since the end of the Korean War.


The reason for this exception was the Mass Games–an unbelievable spectacle of synchronized dancers and performers who stage a production that’s part Super Bowl halftime show on steroids peppered with old-school, Soviet-style propaganda and a touch of Cirque du Soleil.

For some unexplained reason, the government seemed to think this was a momentous enough event to finally allow Americans back into the country where they’d undoubtedly be overwhelmed with the impressive powers of synchronized gymnastics and stadium card shows, thus discovering that North Koreans haven’t just narrowed the gap, but have actually surpassed the rest of the world in this genre of entertainment.

And so, one drizzly afternoon last October, I found myself in the Pyongyang Airport waiting for a guide to take me into town and unveil this planet’s most mysterious nation over the next five days–the maximum amount of time an American is allowed in for the games. Unless, of course, something goes terribly wrong–a fear made all the more real when my guide confiscated my passport and ticket out of the country and turned them over to the police for the entirety of my stay in North Korea. I wasn’t going anywhere if the government didn’t want me to. It wasn’t until I returned to the airport terminal five days later that I was finally reunited with my only means out of the country.

Those passportless five days turned out to be truly extraordinary and worth every moment of my will-I-get-out-of-here-alive fear. Over the next two weeks I will be sharing with you this amazing, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to travel back in time and personally witness the communist regime, cult of personality, totalitarian lifestyle, and oddball reclusiveness known as North Korea. It ain’t Paris, but I think you’ll love it nonetheless.

Tomorrow: The Challenges of Being a Tourist

Study abroad … in North Korea!

by Jerry Guo on

I’ve recently been in contact with Malcolm Gillis, former president of Rice University and one of the organizers of the first international university in of all places, North Korea. Known as Pyongyang University for Science and Technology, the institution is slated to open in April 2008.

What’s surprising, and welcoming, about this project is that it’s the brainchild of both the North and South Koreans, along with supports from China and the US. It looks like the first batch of students will come from all four countries, as well as others. School will be taught in English and Korea.

This could be a dramatic breakthrough for international exchange in the hermit kingdom. If you look at recent history, such as the collapse of the Soviet Union, the impetus for change often comes from within the country. This new attitude towards a more open society could spell good things for both the North Koreans and the rest of the world. Of course, we should keep our expectations grounded. Case in point: their website hasn’t been up for a while (or perhaps it never was).