A Weekend Getaway to North Korea

It's a country that has always intrigued me. A hermit nation that doesn't abide by democratic ideologies nor UN sanctions. A lot has been documented and speculated about this secretive country, but little has been confirmed due to the inaccessibility.

A nation set up alongside the Soviets and supported by China is now one of only five remaining communist countries. Many books and documentaries consumed and having lived on the south side of the border for a few years, I just had to see it for myself.

Was it the best-timed trip? Well, not really with what happened with Otto Warmbier and the threats from the Rocket Men. But is there ever a good time to visit North Korea?

In the weeks leading up to our departure I was slightly concerned, every morning I'd flick through the headlines on BBC News with most of them focused on a back-and-forth between Trump and Kim. Those headlines didn't bother me so much, they've been going on for weeks and little has materialised other than an international competition of "my penis is bigger than yours". And, let's be frank, it's a competition neither of them would win comfortably.

The stories ranged from threats on Guam, missile tests over Japan and Trump weighing in with some inane fighting talk. The US military was "locked and loaded" and that the US would "totally destroy North Korea" if necessary. Kim Jong Un went on to describe Trump as "mentally deranged". Imagine that, Kim Jong Un calling you mentally deranged. You seriously need to have a look at yourself in the mirror if that's happening. We're lucky to have two rational, level-headed leaders in charge of those big red buttons.

A moral question I was repeatedly asked was: aren't you concerned about funding the regime? Of course, it's a concern, but one may argue that everyone's tourist spending in America contributes to them funding the bombing of thousands of innocent people in Syria. Consider that next time you're in soaking up the sun in LA.

I was joined on this suicidal journey by Karl. Karl still lives in Seoul, a mere 195km from Pyongyang, but had to access the capital by flying to Beijing, then flying on to Dandong before getting an extremely slow train that was pulled by peasants (well, it certainly felt that slow) from the border to the capital, Pyongyang. It took Karl numerous hours of travelling to get there, I'm pretty sure Eddie Izzard could have run the 195km from capital to capital in a shorter time.

Karl and I arrived in Dandong on the Chinese-North Korean border and we were about 80% excited and 20% terrified for what lay ahead of us in the following 3 days.

Our last picture in the free world #Mao

Day 1 in North Korea:

Up early as we were meeting the tour group outside Dandong train station at 8am sharp. We hovered around the entrance without much sign of the tour leader. A group of people started to form and we speculated that they might be our travel companions. It was a good bet considering they were the only whities in a mass of Chinese people. A giant Australian, named Rowan, later arrived and introduced himself as our tour guide. His height made me uneasy. I nestled in among the Chinese lads to boost my self-confidence.

Everyone was accounted for, we were all issued our visas and we made our way through international departure. At the first security check-point, Rowan was acting like a tit. He was very handsy with the police officer who was checking our visas. He was hitting his hat, nudging him, pinching his arse. I thought “this is the guy overseeing our safety in North Korea? This guy isn’t going to make it out of the train station!” Luckily he made it through and made it onto the train headed for Pyongyang. First stop Sinuiju.

Sinuiju is the first town on the other side of the Chinese-North Korean border, 940m across the Sino-Friendship Bridge. This is where the very stringent security check would take place. It was quite honestly, one of the most daunting experiences of my life. The North Koreans bordered the train and immediately took our passports. We were at their disposal. They conducted a baggage search. Censorship is quite the pastime in North Korea, with religious documents, certain publications, and pornography all banned. Luckily they didn’t find the Playboy in my hand luggage and the butt-plug up my arse.

Reliable Rowan was on hand to get us out of this sticky situation. He slyly handed (in plain sight to everyone) the security officers a packet of American cigarettes to each of them and they were happy to let us through. We had time to kill while the rest of the train was searched so we were ordered off the train to stock up on supplies for the 6-hour journey to the capital.

Karl and I had reminders of “funding the regime” ringing in our heads but made an enquiry to alcohol.

“How much alcohol do you have left?” We politely asked the refreshment ladies.

“There are only 8 large bottles of beer and 2 bottles of soju left.”

“OK, we’ll take the lot.”

We had been off the train for a mere 30 seconds and were less than a kilometre into North Korea before we had lost our morals. Don’t judge us, 6 hours is a long time to spend on a train.

Tensions had eased and we were enjoying ourselves. What was all the fuss about?!

We drank all the way to Pyongyang, marvelling at the sights of rural North Korea. It was fascinating. The towns were tiny and there were no cars. People got around on foot or bicycle if they were lucky to have one. The people were dirty and had clothes that looked like they were donated by the USSR in the 60s. Propaganda messages were placed high in the hills as people hand-worked the fields below, with cattle mainly used for pulling carts between towns. It felt like we had gone back in time or at least to the opening scenes of Borat.

We arrived in Pyongyang a little tipsier than anticipated and Karl and I rushed to take pictures.

When we went to re-join the group on the platform they had gone. We had been in Pyongyang for all of 3 minutes and had managed to lose the group.

Some North Korean ladies started speaking to us in English and we had to introduce ourselves as the mongs that got lost instantaneously.

Our first evening there was spent by strolling through the streets of the city. It was all very normal. People were heading home from a long day at work, others were drinking in pubs. We stopped at Kim Il-Sung Square (the square you see on the news with the military parades) where it was all kicking off. There were thousands of people there who were rehearsing a big song and dance for the anniversary of the founding of Kim Il-Sung’s Worker’s Party of North Korea on the 10^th of October.

We finished the evening in the hotel bar discussing what we’d seen today with the rest of the tour group. It was all smiles until Mr. Kim arrived. He was the muscle and was seemingly there to keep tabs on what our tour guides said to us. His presence at the bar was met with silence. He joined our conversation and was, in fact, very welcoming. A few beers in and we were chatting away and he gave us the freedom to ask any questions we liked. It seemed like a trap, but after a few more beers, we were listening to his theories on America, Trump, South Korea, China, and, of course, North Korea’s majesticness.

I sat and listened to him pensively as it’s not every day that you get a chance to speak openly with a North Korean. I wish I could have recorded all of it, but just had to rely on my drunken memory which is unreliable at the best of times.

Here is a little wisdom he shared with us...

It’s rude to refer to North Korea as North Korea and it’s actually referred to as the DPRK. There is a correct way to fold a newspaper and that’s to make sure you don’t fold the pictures of the great leaders. He thought China are selfish neighbours. He held little resentment towards the American people, but a lot towards their government. The Great Wall of China was in fact erected to protect China from the Koreans, not the Mongolians. As well as so much more that was just impossible to remember.

We retired to our very nice hotel room which just so happened to be bugged with hidden microphones.

Day 2 in the DPRK:

I woke up with the shits. We headed down for breakfast only to realise that we were late. Did you know the DPRK has its own time zone? Nor did Karl and I. They are +7:30hours ahead of GMT. It was not an ideal start to the day.

On the bus and we were off sightseeing with an air of confidence, much like the time Kim Jong-Il bowled a perfect 300-game or when he sank 11 holes-in-one the first time he played golf. I actually would have been happy enough not to have shat myself that day.

Before long we were off to lay some flowers at the bronze monuments of the Great Leaders Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il. We approached the statues with strict orders to pay our utmost respect to them. I walked up to the base, placed the flowers, walked 20 metres back and bowed the best bow I could. It was at that moment I thought “how has my life come to this?” Most people my age are holidaying in Malaga or taking their girlfriends off to Paris. I’m in the heart of Pyongyang bowing to 25-metre tall statues of dead communist leaders.

Next stop on our tour took us to the Juche Tower. Juche was a theory of self-reliance which cut the country off from the rest of the world. I thought it was best to keep the reminders to myself about financial and oil-aid from China and food-aid from America and South Korea. I guess that’s why Juche is just a theory.

Our next sightseeing destination was at the Monument to Party Founding. This monument is a classic communist sight, a hammer, a sickle but with an added calligraphy brush which represent the workers, farmers, and intellectuals. The DPRK pride themselves on having a depiction of education, but not too much education, because that never really works out for communism.

We took a ride on the subway (seriously, who does that for fun?) It was quite interesting to see the locals up close. They didn’t seem too fazed with 15 foreigners in the carriage with them. Maybe they’ve seen it all before, or maybe they’re taught not to acknowledge us? Who knows? 

At one point the carriage got very tight and one unsavoury person pushed everyone very hard resulting in me squashing an old lady. I apologised to her in Korean, and she turned away immediately. Every now and then she’d give me a look over her shoulder. When it came to my stop I said goodbye to her in Korean and I got a smile that time. It was quite nice to have a pleasant moment with a local.

Those two lads are quite literally everywhere. I expected the locals to stare at us a lot more than they did. I actually think I stared at them more. 

We disembarked the subway and took a stroll through a local park watched as families played. It was here that I felt I could have been anywhere else in the world (other than Beijing due to the blue skies).

We headed back to the hotel and resumed the beer drinking from the night before. I made it through the day without shitting myself.

The propaganda is plastered around the city.

Some waitresses from one of the restaurants. They wanted a picture with us as much as we did with them. The North Koreans seemed emotionless, they never smiled for pictures.

Day 3 in DPRK:

Our last day in the glorious nation and we only had one place to visit, The Victorious Fatherland Liberation War Museum. We had a smoking hot tour guide give us the express tour of the museum. We were sat down and made to watch a documentary about who started the Korean War. You’re not going to believe the outcome, but it was the bloody Americans that started it all! Who’d have thought?

We had the long slog of a journey back to China ahead, but it was much more relaxed than on the way there. I was so at ease by the end of the trip. At the final security check, I was slightly tipsy, swigging on soju, flicking through a porno and quoting the Quran.

The whole trip was a jolly. We went, we had a laugh, mucked around, took pictures with the local girls, bought some propaganda material and went home.

There were times when I thought I could have been in South Korea or quite literally anywhere in the world. We visited a microbrewery, we sat drinking locally brewed beer talking rubbish. We played pool at the hotel bar and I was seeing 12 pockets instead of 6. We took a stroll in the park and saw families enjoying picnics and playing badminton. All very mundane pastimes that don't reflect the image that is portrayed on TV or the internet. The troubles you see in the media don't stem from the every day Joes, it's the egomaniacs in office.

The people we encountered were very accommodating and friendly and I can't speak highly enough of the staff at Young Pioneer Tours. We got answers to questions most aren't able to ask and it would appear that the people there truly believe what they are preaching. One person asked a tour guide if the images we saw of when Kim Jong-Il died were accurate, she went on to explain her love for the Great Military Leader and the party shedding a tear as she did so. It made me awfully sad to see someone react so emotionally about something that is based on lies. I suppose us outsiders will never know and experience the real DPRK, but getting this close is as good as it gets.

A big shout-out goes to my dear Eunju as she translated a lot of things for me. I went away on holiday and took loads of pictures and she got homework.

Xi'an: The Eternal Emperor

Having only just returned from a trip to Shanghai with Drew I was hardly match fit for my next trip to China’s ancient city of Xi’an. It was once the beginning of the Silk Road, on which they traded with Europeans, and also the former capital of China where the emperors used to live, but it’s probably most famous for The Terracotta Warriors. I had planned to do a little more research before going on this trip, but you know who actually wants to read something that isn’t the sports pages?

Day 1: My first full day in Xi’an and I was up early with a carpe diem mind set. First, I headed for Shuyuanmen, a street known for all things artistic from paintings to displays of calligraphy. Shop after shop of calligraphy brushes, they were mildly interesting, but I had a biro in my bag and I was getting hungry. I was starting to get annoyed by the layout of Xi’an. I turned off Calligraphy Street onto Picture Frame Road then turned again onto Florist Alley. It seemed every road had its speciality without a restaurant in sight. I walked and walked and finally came across a Biang Biang shop. 

A type of noodle that gets its name from the sound of whacking the stretched noodles against the counter. It also seems to have the most intricate of all Chinese characters. With some noodles and fire in my belly, I was off again.

My next stop was at the bell and drum towers. I’d already seen the bell and drum towers in Beijing and I suspected them to be pretty much the same. Climb lots of stairs to see some fellas banging on a drum. No need to pay £4 to see that. 

Selfie-sticks are degrading

At the rear of the towers is the Muslim quarter. In this region are so many street food vendors selling an array of delicious treats. There was a plethora of food that I couldn’t identify, but everything looked and smelled incredible. It’s a good thing my grandmother cannot operate a computer as she’d be disgusted to find out that I was in an Islamic neighbourhood, eating Islamic food, cooked by Muslims. Nothing pleases her more than for her to hear that I’m eating boiled meat and potatoes, but that’s not too appealing when I’m gorging on middle eastern-Chinese fusion foods. Soon after it began raining heavily (my grandmother would note that as an act of God), I thought it would be the perfect time to check out the Shaanxi History Museum. Xi’an boasts over 5,000 years of history (and don’t the Chinese like to remind you of it!) but when I looked at the finer details of the museum I discovered the museum is closed on Mondays and that particular day was a Monday. I retired back to my hostel waiting for the clouds to part. 

Eating meat that belonged to that carcass.

I read a few chapters of my book, drank a beer, and took a nap and it was magnificent. 

The rain eased and I was back out this time doing a lap of the city walls starting at the Gareth Southgate. I got on a bike and began the 13.7km loop. You know what, it wasn't that smooth. Some of it was renovated and made for easy riding other parts were like cycling down some cobbled streets. There’s a reason why you never saw Hayley Cropper cycling down Coronation Street, it’s because her plums would have fallen out of her basket. With my bones rattled I headed for the Big Goose Pagoda for the largest water fountain show on earth. 

I waited and waited, and then it started raining. Some security guards came along with their loud whistles to move the people from standing on the small walls surrounding the fountains. The guards walked up and down continuously telling people to get off the walls only for the crowds to resume their positions 30 seconds later. I wanted to tell the guards "look, these are Chinese people. They don't care. They will stand where they want". The crowd got bigger and rowdier, people started pushing, the rain got heavier the whistles got louder and I thought this can’t be worth it. Without seeing the show I went back to the hostel and watched it on YouTube. It's called the biggest water show on earth, but I think the recent floods in Houston dispel that claim. With no regrets, I made the right decision to leave.

Day 2: Up early and off to Emperor Qin’s Terracotta Army. 

The tour guide showed us around and gave us a briefing about each of the archaeological pits and the discovery of the site in 1974. Local farmers were looking for water when they found pieces of clay and a fully in-tact warrior statue at the burial site. 

A brief history of Emperor Qin goes as such; he unified the 7 kingdoms of China, he standardised units of weights, currency, and built a road system throughout China. He is a very respected figure, but despite his greatness he sought everlasting life. He had the bright idea to take mercury as a way of prolonging his life, instead that polished him off early so the king's slaves excavated a site and built a clay army to protect the emperor in the afterlife. Standing almost 2 metres tall and each statue uniquely built with different styles of shoes, armour and hairstyles to represent rank. 

Top centre: You can see some red paint remains on the body armour which has somehow lasted over 2,000 years

I think that's what she said anyway. We had a small tour group but she still spoke through a PA system. Technology has advanced in China with them at the forefront of so many devices, but not the PA system. This tiny box which spilled out her voice incoherently was of no use. I got the gist of what she was saying. 

They are quite magnificent. The burial site was 5 metres deep and enclosed with a roof, but over the years the roof collapsed and this damaged the Warriors. Now, archaeologists have the tedious task of constructing the world's largest jigsaw puzzle. It takes 3-4 months to assemble one statue. They estimate that there are about 8,000 statues. Since the discovery in 1974, they have assembled 2,000 and require another 50 years to assemble the remaining ones.

Each statue is a replica of the slave who made it, and once completed they'd be slaughtered and thrown in a mass grave to keep the secrecy of the emperor's resting place. I know if I was one of those slaves I'd be taking my time making my statue, breaking bits off and starting again.

The Emperor’s Tomb has been discovered but they have no plans to unearth it as it’s said that the tomb is laden with booby traps. While Qin Shi Huang never discovered the Elixer of Life, his legacy will live on forever.

All told the trip to Xi’an was alright. The Terracotta Warriors were very impressive as was the food in the Muslim quarter.  If you’re planning a trip to Xi’an make sure you don’t go on a Monday.

Disaster and Chaos are Always Good

I had another friendly face pay me a visit recently, this time it was from American shores. Drew, a friend who I met from my days playing football in Korea. We were both drawn to the lure of DAROK with promises of free beer and nachos from our sponsored pub and that perfectly sums up our friendship. 

Our weeklong jaunt got off to valiant start. We awoke on Drew’s first full day in Beijing to blue skies and sunshine – the perfect setting for a trip to The Great Wall. We leisurely took the cable car up the mountain and spent the afternoon exploring a relatively empty wall (well, empty for China) before getting a toboggan down the mountain. Having seen the Wall before the toboggan was easily the best part of the day. We were back in the city by the early afternoon with plenty of time do a bar crawl through Beijing.

I’ve shared many tequilas with Drew in the few years I’ve known him and pretty much each time has ended in some regrettable situations. That night in Beijing was no different.

I made the mistake of telling Drew that alcohol is free to foreigners in Beijing nightclubs. Yes, free of charge with unlimited access. We worked our magic on the girl at the door of the club and we were in for free because of our charm, but mostly because of the colour of our skin. As we arrived at the foreigner table and two seats became available in the booth, it was almost as if they were reserved for us. We sat kings of the foreigners as we helped ourselves to the bottles of vodka, gin, rum, whiskey, and that devil juice, tequila. It was around this point that things got a bit hazy and I awoke the following morning with no sign of Drew and vomit on my shoes.

Where was he? Was he alive? Was that my vomit? I couldn’t contact him as he was still on his US carrier and that’s assuming he still had his phone. It was well into the afternoon and there was no word. I was feeling pretty awful at that stage as since I had met him at the airport I’d taken care of the travel arrangements and then left him in a city. As I was heading out into the heart of Beijing to look for him there he was. He’d found my apartment…somehow. He was looking worse for wear, but with litres of Gatorade under his arm he was there and alive with possessions intact. Relief.

I asked him what had happened and where he had been, but he was as useful as I was at filling in the blanks. The day of sightseeing was cancelled and the recovery began.

"One of the worst hangovers in years" was how Drew described it. I had to inform the young man that despite the alcohol being offered for free, it was, in fact, fake alcohol. Fake alcohol as in some Chinese fella has brewed it in his bathtub and packaged it to look like the real thing. It’s China, everything’s fake. It probably doesn’t bode well that my body has become immune to the stuff, although I remember how horrific those hangovers were when I first arrived here.

We still had an opportunity to make up for lost time as our train to Shanghai wasn’t until 2pm the following day, so we set an early alarm and made plans to see Tiananmen Square, The Forbidden City and The Temple of Heaven before our departure to Shanghai.

There was a slight drizzle come the morning, but we were more determined than ever. We turned to Chairman Mao Zedong for inspiration.

“Once all struggle is grasped, miracles are possible”.

- Mao Zedong

With this Marxist-Leninist-Maoist inspiration in our hearts, we were on our way to do some communist sightseeing. 

We walked around the sights getting wetter and colder. Despite the weather, we still had to fight our way through the crowds (it’s China, there are always crowds). Chinese crowds are trying at the best of times and one thing that makes them worse – umbrellas. Those pointy umbrellas scratched my eyeballs worse than eczema on an itchy arsehole. We ticked off Tiananmen and The Forbidden City, but ditched plans for the Temple of Heaven as we couldn’t take it anymore. We got a taxi to Beijing train station and people watched until our departure time. Chinese people watching is easily the best thing you can do in Beijing and is my new favourite hobby.

We made our train to Shanghai, which I was a little worried about as Drew and I have a history of missing trains having missed one to Ulsan as we went drinking the night before. That bloody tequila again.

I was happy to spend time with drew in Beijing but I can't help but feel that he didn't see the places I had wanted him to. Our time in Beijing was much like the McGregor vs. Mayweather fight. We came out swinging in the first 3 rounds, but before long Beijing fought back and put us in our place. 

We cruised through the empty Chinese countryside at 307 km/h. Living in one of the most populated cities in the world it's pleasant to see a vast countryside, occasionally passing a city I've never heard of, which probably has a larger population than London. 

Four-and-a-half hours later and 1068 km behind us we arrived in Shanghai with just enough time to get to the AirBnB, drop our bags and head to the pub for the Liverpool vs. Arsenal.

The view from the AirBnB

I was very worried as our night could take a bad turn. If Arsenal lost heavily we knew we'd hit the tequilas pretty hard. 

Arsenal lost 4-0 and we hit the tequilas hard. 

The recovery was from the night before was much more successful. We had a food tour planned for this day, but as we hadn't eaten all morning and considering how much we drank the night before I was hoping Burger King was the first stop on the tour. Instead, it was a bull frog restaurant. 

“Swollen in head, weak in legs, sharp in tongue but empty in belly.”

- Mao Zedong

I was so hungry that I filled up on bull frogs, which is something I never thought I'd say. They were pretty good, but we had 8 more stops on the food tour and I was getting bloated. I was forcing down longevity noodles and crab cakes. It was not the hangover food I needed.

Top centre clockwise: some Chinese lad frying some pork cutlets, spicy bullfrog on rice, a crab cake pie, some dumplings, some flat bread, another dumpling, longevity noodles, some aged 50% alcohol. Hardly the best descriptions, I ate this stuff a few weeks back and didn't write down what we were eating.

We finished the tour and cracked a beer on The Bund. 

Another day in Shanghai and it was time to see the Propaganda Art Museum. It exhibits posters from the Maoist era of Revolutionary China. These images inspired millions of people to rise up and make their country into a global superpower. Before the age of widespread social media, this is how people were influenced.

Many depicted images of pro-Russian communism and painted images of anti-American capitalism. I laughed and pointed at the depiction of Americans in front of Drew until I saw a few posters mocking us Brits. That's not cool. 

The posters were fascinating. Take this image of the guys riding a fire breathing dragon. It doesn't inspire me much other than to go for some spicy noodles, but it built hopes of industry, agriculture, and toppling American imperialism. 

We got turnt that night. 

After forcing ourselves up for our final day at a reasonable hour we went to the old town and did the old sightseeing nonsense. 

We coordinated our outfits for this photoshoot.

The next morning Drew was up early to make his flight, he left while I was still in bed. Now I understand how whorish it feels to have a man walk out on you. I got the train home which felt like it took an eternity. When we got the train south it was easy. I was dreaming of cocaine and hookers, but on the way back I was nursing my damaged body and had laundry to do when I got home.

"Disaster and chaos are always good".

- Mao Zedong

It was a pleasure to spend some time with a good friend and hopefully, it’s not too long before I see him again wherever in the world that may be.