Infiltrating North Korea Part 5: The Sexy Traffic Girls of Pyongyang

by Neil Woodburn on

Infiltrating North Korea is a two-week series exploring the world’s most reclusive nation and its bizarre, anachronistic way of life. To start reading at the beginning of the series, be sure to click here.

The most pleasant surprise in all of North Korea is undoubtedly the city’s phenomenal Traffic Girls.

Dolled up in crisp, blue and white uniforms that are rumored to have been designed by Kim Jong Il himself, the immaculately coifed women work the middle of intersections throughout Pyongyang. Every Traffic Girl is beautiful, young, shapely, and sexy in a uniform-wearing sort of way. On sunny days, they even don Matrix style sunglasses that add an even deeper layer of suggestive innuendo.

Since there are no streetlights in Pyongyang, the Traffic Girls are the only way to maintain order on the roadways, and man do they! Armed with just a whistle and baton, the girls are a one-person show beautifully orchestrating the flow of traffic with patented, choreographed moves that are crisp, robotic, and out of this world.

In any other country they’d cause accidents as rubbernecking perverts speed by gawking at them; but not in North Korea where there are few automobiles on the street and even less opportunity to be reckless and deviant.

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Yesterday: The Architecture of Pyongyang
Tomorrow: Art and Culture, Pyongyang Style

Infiltrating North Korea Part 4: The architecture of Pyongyang

by Neil Woodburn on

Pyongyang, for the most part, is surprisingly tasteful and impressive without being too ostentatious and grandiose.

This is because Kim Il Sung, like all megalomaniacs, built his capital to showcase the power and sophistication of his regime and to serve as a shining example of Socialism’s prowess.

Nonetheless, I had still expected a horribly dilapidated city much like the carcass of so many Eastern European towns I had seen shortly after the fall of communism. But I was wrong, for the most part. Yes, such visual horrors certainly existed: Beyond the city center, for example, we could clearly make out the concrete hell of socialism where rows of prefabricated housing blocks were pushed up against each other like tombstones in a graveyard.

But the center of town itself was a pleasant exception to this horrendous architecture. Pyongyang had been leveled during the war and the communist city planners had therefore been presented a tabula rasa on which to build the model socialist city. The result was a proud capital that boasted wide boulevards, tree lined sidewalks, numerous parks, and impressive architecture that could be at home even in Europe. Almost. Pyongyang also has its share of oddball structures and at least one failed skyscraper attempting to be the tallest in the world.

Arch of Triumph
Pyongyang’s Arch of Triumph is taken right out of the pages of Paris, France. Except, of course, it’s three meters taller.

The 60 meter tall (190 ft) structure was built in 1982 with 10,500 granite blocks and stands as a tribute to the liberation of Korea from the Japanese in 1945. Or, as recounted in my copy of Pyongyang Review, the arch “reflects our people’s ardent wish and steadfast resolve to glorify forever the immortal revolutionary exploits of the great leader Comrade Kim Il Sung who embarked on the road to revolution in his early years and led the 20-year long anti-Japanese revolutionary struggle to victory and returned home by accomplishing the cause of national liberation.”

Such praise is a very typical North Korean manner of exalting Kim Il Sung and inserting his “brilliance” and leadership into every single object–manmade or otherwise–the sun shines upon in North Korea.

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Ryugyong Hotel
The Ryugyong Hotel is undoubtedly the most flagrant symbol of North Korea’s failure as judged by the outside world.

At 330 meters (1,083 ft) tall and 105 floors, this mammoth structure dominates Pyongyang’s skyline. Originally scheduled to open in 1989, it would have been the world’s tallest hotel at the time and a cultural coup of one-upmanship for the North Korean government.

Things didn’t go as planned, however. Construction was halted in 1992, leaving Korea-watchers speculating on the many reasons for abandoning such a prestigious project that was heralded in the local press as the architectural equivalent of the second coming of God.

Poor quality concrete is the most commonly suspected reason, although funding probably played a major role as well. Experts estimated the project cost $750 million dollars and tragically consumed far too many resources during a time of horrific famine in North Korea.

Today, the hotel has become a white elephant which no one, including our guides, would speak about. All references have been stripped from the North Korean mass media, including my copy of Pyongyang Review which features all the other architectural landmarks of the city. Stamps bearing its image have been recalled and even state photographs of the city are now taken in a manner that excludes this monstrous carcass. This 1,000 foot pyramid of concrete simply no longer exists.

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Pyongyang Metro
The Pyongyang Metro is something else that doesn’t really exist. Or does it?

Every visitor to Pyongyang is given a tour of the metro. But, unlike the Moscow Metro in which tourists could travel at will even during the height of the Cold War, tourists in Pyongyang can only travel between Puhung Station and Yongwang Station–coincidently, the last two stations on the line.

No one seems to know why the other stations are off limits but there is plenty of speculation. Some believe that these are the only two stations in the system and that the commuters we saw riding the train were merely there for show. The more likely reason, however, is that the remainder of the network may be broken, or simply shut down to save energy–although this most certainly doesn’t impact the rumored secret lines that connect government buildings.

The Pyongyang Metro was opened in 1973 and built in the same grandiose style as the Moscow Metro; each station a miniature palace covered in marble, mosaics, statuary, chandeliers, artwork, and, of course, propaganda. According to the 1994 English version of The Pyongyang Metro, North Korea’s subway “is not only the traffic means but also the place for ideological education. Its inside decoration is depicted artistically so as to convey to posterity the glorious revolutionary history and the leadership exploits of the great leader President Kim Il Sung.”

And, indeed, the two stations we visited were impressively decked out with mosaics that ran the entire length of the tunnel, and included themes that, according to The Pyongyang Metro book “represent the appearance of the country which is prospering day by day and the happiness of the working people who enjoy the equitable and worthwhile creative life to their hearts’ content thanks to the popular policy of the Workers’ Party of Korea and the Government of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.”

Despite living up to their promise of underground museums, the stations were still a little dark and gloomy–something which even Korean elevator music piped in over the Metro’s loudspeakers failed to alleviate. This is a serious psychological design flaw considering that the stations–some of the deepest in the world–were also designed to double as bomb shelters. I can’t imagine being trapped down there for more than a few hours.

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Yesterday: The Enigma of Pyongyang
Tomorrow: The Sexy Traffic Girls 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