Bali, Indonesia: Eat. Drink. Love.

We touched down in Bali at 7am, checked into the hotel and were on the beach by 8am. The only trouble with this is that we had already started drinking before most people had even woken up.

Bali is predominantly Hindu and throughout the island you will see small square woven baskets that contain offerings to the gods. The most common offerings include flowers and food. The local Mexican restaurant to our hotel offered chocolate churros and cigarettes.

This big-titted god is similar to Santa Claus in that on Christmas eve people put out milk and cookies for the big man and here people offer biscuits and cigarettes, but the main similarity is that neither of them really exist. At least the milk and cookies get consumed. These offerings are generally a waste of churros and fags. 

There was a very first experience for Eunju during our time in Bali. She got to meet her very first Essex boy. He was friendly enough, and as we relaxed by the pool he told us his romantic tales on the island. His romantic tales didn't include chocolates and flowers but did include Jaeger bombs and Johnies. Eunju said she couldn't understand a word he said, luckily. When she got up to leave he pushed her in the pool. Eunju doesn't like Essex boys.

After a few days in the touristy region of Kuta, we headed for the less populous island of Gili Trawangan. A far smaller island east of Bali, so small in fact that there is no motorised transportation on the island. People get around by bicycle or by horse-drawn cart (from my experience Indonesian people really don't treat their horses very well. They always appeared dehydrated and injured. Eunju and I, therefore, decided not to use this means of transportation.) A bike is the best way to get around and we circumnavigated the island in about 30 minutes stopping to enjoy the view from time to time.

It is widely reported that the Gili islands are the best place to partake in snorkelling. Eunju said that she was keen to give it a try. This was a little surprising considering she can't swim, but if she was up for it then why not? With clear waters, marine life, and sea turtles living in the area I was sold. Looking back at that moment, I'm still trying to work out which of us was more foolish, the person who can't swim or the one who agreed to go with her. 

Out on the open waters, it was great. The sky was blue, the wind blowing in our hair and the smell of petrol in our noses. We anchored and set off looking for sea turtles and we saw plenty of them! It was a bucket list moment to swim among them. I've had a love for turtles ever since I was a kid and was hooked on the crime-fighting Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I had always wanted to see turtles in the wild and it was much nicer to see them in the Indonesian seas than in the sewers of New York.

We were back on the boat and were told that we would see some statues. I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but lo and behold there were sculptures in the deep which have become a hub for the marine life. The guides told us that due to the shallow waters they would anchor down a short swim from the statues. I'm not very good at judging distances, but it must have been about 40km (probably closer to 100m). Not too daunting for me, but for Eunju that was a marathon. That's when I realised the snorkelling trip was a mistake. After only a few metres she was exhausted, and it was up to me to rescue her. I dragged her body all the way while she complained. It took an eternity and all my willpower not to leave her behind. I kept on thinking to myself that a difficult conversation with her parents about abandoning their daughter would have been much easier than towing her to safety. I did the honourable thing, internally cursing her all the way to the boat. If Eunju ever wants to go snorkelling again I'll just put Blue Planet on for her.

She suggested going surfing the next day, so I told her to piss off.

This was post recuse. That's a fake smile. 

The holiday was coming to a close and the prospect of returning to China wasn't so appealing. Around every corner there were reminders of China. The black sand beaches reminded me of insensitive Chinese entertainers blacking up on TV. The smoke from the outdoor grills reminded me of the air quality. Every cigarette I smelled had a Pavlovian effect. The stary cats would call "Mao...Mao..."

On our penultimate day, we decided to rent a scooter and explore the southern part of Bali. First, we headed for the Turtle Conservation And Education Center, a rehabilitation centre for injured turtles with drug addictions. They do excellent work of caring for them before releasing them back into the wild. I got to feed a few of them and I was overjoyed. I decided to name them all; Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, Rafael, Leonardo 2, Donatello 2, Michelangelo 2, Rafael 2, Leonardo 3...I ran out of names pretty quickly.

That turtle isn't checking out my arse

We then scooted further south to Uluwatu. It was a fair ride so we took the main highway. At the toll booth, a police officer was there waiting pulling over every foreigner. He went on to use his scare tactics in order to get a bribe from us. 

"You don't have an international driving permit, you'll need to go to court and will need to pay a lot of money." 

He goes through this script every time and his delivery was hardly Oscar-worthy. I then gave my Tom Hanks-esque performance 

"Oh no! The guy we rented from didn't mention anything about an international driving permit. I don't want to go to court. Is there another way to solve this?"

While flashing at 50,000 rupiah (£2.50) in his direction. The bribe worked and we were on our way again. 

Uluwatu is pretty much the most southern point of Bali which boasts some of the most spectacular cliffs you've ever seen. They were as nice as the White Cliffs of Dover and much better than Richards.

We walked through the forest where the local monkeys hassled tourists for snacks. Echoing from the tannoy system was an announcement "please, do not feed the monkeys". Everyone ignored it and the monkeys were happy for it.

We made our way to the beach, but it wasn't quite what I was expecting. Uluwatu beach is signposted very well, so we thought we'd dip our toes. Little did we know, it is a surfers haven. You need to enter the beach by descending down a fair few stairs, before entering a cave. The surfers around us then headed for the water. It seemed incredibly dangerous. Luckily there was a viewpoint bar where from we enjoyed the spectacular view. The enormous waves crashed into the rocks below us, feeling the vibrations carry through the stone. This moment was improved with a very sour lemon juice. 

On our way back we hit some unbelievable rush hour traffic. The journey was only a mere few kilometres, but it took an age. It was actually quite nice to be back among the petrol fumes as my body was struggling to cope with the clean air. My lungs weren't quite sure what was going on having gone pollution cold turkey since leaving China.

And that was it. Three weeks in south-east Asia were over. Back to the grind. Back to inspiring English students. The next holiday can't come soon enough. Until then. 

Indonesia: Yogyakarta & Mount Bromo

Straight from Singapore we stationed in Yogyakarta, a city known for its variety of scenery from mountains to sand dunes to dense jungles. Unfortunately the weather wasn't too kind to us during our stay so we really had to narrow down our scheduled activities.

Our first stop was Indonesia's most visited tourist destination, Borobudur Temple. I'm not the biggest fan of temples, so I made sure to only visit one on this journey and this was it. 

We took the bus there which was an experience in itself. I mean, I say that as a tourist I suppose it wasn't as fun for the locals who were hauling huge sacks of vegetables bought from the market on and off the bus every other stop. I could have helped, but I didn't want to break the fourth wall.

Upon entry they explained that as this is a respected holy place that the outfits Eunju and I were sporting were too provocative showing too much leg. I say if you've got it flaunt it. Alas, I caved to their demands and donned a sarong type garment.

I must say that I really warmed to it. It was so liberating to be in something that I felt comfortable wearing. The slit enabled me to reveal a bit of upper thigh which really enticed the lads. After a few minutes I was sold, just call me Brendie Izzard.

The rain held off just long enough to explore the temple and enjoy the view of the thick vegetation surround this sightseeing hot spot.

We stayed at a hostel called Hati Hati, which was themed on the mantra "don't worry, be happy". It was hard to adopt this belief as there was an Islamic Mosque directly across the street, not that uncommon in Indonesia. The location is perfect for someone who wants to attend the mosque, but a little inconvenient for someone who wants to sleep in. The formal prayers started around 6am at sunrise and were repeated 5 times a day. Just after the Maghrib prayer at sundown we headed for the bar street. 

The next morning we checked the forecast and had a sunshine window of opportunity. We hopped on a scooter and made way for Curug Pulosari. It's off the beaten track and because of the recent downpours we had this secluded waterfall all to ourselves. It was peaceful and beautiful.

Yogyakarta is unique within Indonesia in that is has been given the status of "Special Administrative Region" meaning that it is the only region in Indonesia to be ruled by a monarchy. It was awarded this due to their contribution in aiding the survival of the Indonesian Republic. So, in our remaining time in the city we meandered around the palaces, where the Sultan of Yogyakarta still resides. It was pretty underwhelming. It seemed less of a palace and more of a bus station. It was so underwhelming in fact that I didn't even take a single picture of it. 

We made our way over to the Water Palace, a place where the sultan would relax, taking in a puppet show along the way. I'm not sure what I was expecting with the puppet show, but it was far from interesting. There's a reason why it's traditional entertainment because if it was any good it'd be on Netflix.

Eunju is the one on the left

And that drew to a close our time in Yogyakarta. We just had a short flight over to Surabaya where we were scheduled to take a sunrise tour of Mount Bromo, one of Indonesia's largest active volcanoes. 

We were picked up at midnight and travelled to the mountain. Arriving at around 4am we had an hour and a half to kill until sunrise. Previous to our tour we had been enjoying temperatures of 30°C+, but at the top of the volcano it was down to 11°C. Sure, it was chilly, but some people had dressed as it they were heading for the arctic. Hats, scarves, gloves, and jackets were all on sale, but I wasn't prepared to buy a scarf on holiday in Indonesia. And anyway, I'd just been tolerating Siberian winds in Beijing, light drizzle and a minor chill were nothing to us.

The time passed slowly. Minutes felt like hours. The drizzled worsened and there was a thick mist that was impossible to see through. If someone had said to me, 'would you like to watch the sunrise from the comfort of your warm bedroom?' I probably wouldn't bother waking up for it. 'Would you travel 3-4 hours, climb a mountain in the rain to see bugger all?' Yes, mate. Well up for that. 'And would you like to share that experience with 2,000 other people?' Even better. 

Officially at 5:33am, according to my phone the sunrise had happened and I saw none of it. It was that moment I realised I had wasted my time and money. 

Just as we were heading down the treacherous mountain roads, the clouds parted and we got to see our post sunrise. The sun shone through the clouds over the mist covering the mountains. It was spectacular. 

Further down the mountain we stopped on the Sea of Sand to take some more pictures. We drove over the volcanic sands with a feeling of astonishment. 

We climbed to the peak of the volcano to get a glance of the smoke emitting from it and drew in a big lungful of smelly sulphur dioxide. Either that or the previous nights Indonesian food was making a second occurrence. You could feel the warmth from it too which was welcomed. 

Back to Surabaya we had some time to kill before our early evening flight. We relaxed for a few hours while it rained outside. Our hostel was only 30 minutes from the airport, so we were packed and were left waiting for a taxi, the trouble was that we couldn't get one. After a long painstaking wait, we were on our way when we immediately hit traffic. The rain was coming down harder and flooded the roads 30cm high. I'd never seen rain quite like it. This intensified the traffic. There is nothing more stressful than being in traffic on the way to the airport (well, there are, but for the sake of this story there aren't). The minutes passed like seconds as we sat hopelessly. It eventually took us almost 3 hours to reach the airport and therefore we missed our flight to Bali.

We needed to book another flight, but the airport staff were far from helpful. We got online and our options were limited. We had to settle for one of the morning 2 days later. When I attempted to book these flights my credit card wouldn't work, so I had the joy of talking to their customer service department. By the time we had our flights booked all the restaurants had closed. I was truly pissed off. Over some dry KFC Eunju looked at me and said "smile". You'd have to be a mentalist or a Mormon to smile in that situation. I calmly replied "tomorrow".

This meant we had a day and a bit in Surabaya. Let me tell you, there isn't much to do there. The options were to take a tour of a cigarette factory or look around the zoo, which is most famous for their terrible treatment and conditions for the animals. You know you're in for a long wait if the city you're in is mostly known for cancer sticks and animal cruelty.

We made our morning flight to Bali and I smiled at Eunju.

A shout-out goes to Eunju as she had to tolerate a significant period with a miserable bastard. 

24 Hours in Singapore

Modern Singapore was established in 1819 by Sir Thomas Raffles. He opened a port free of taxes to encourage traders to leave the ports governed by the Dutch. After some time the freedom of trade, loose morals and almost absent policing drew in the worst kind of people. After 30 years there were only 12 police officers for the 60,000 people in the city and this led to widespread prostitution, gambling, and drug abuse. These days it has all been cleared up. Gambling is now regulated, possession of drugs results in a mandatory punishment of death, and the prostitutes were all too expensive for my budget, for these reasons Eunju and I only stayed in Singapore for 24 hours.

Walking down the streets of Singapore it almost feels like the British had never left. The Salvation Army, Costa Coffee, Cash Converters...I wondered if I was in downtown Singapore or on Bedford high street.

Our first stop on our itinerary was to see The Gardens By the Bay. They are quite fantastic and probably are the best gardens I've ever been to. Mind you, I don't frequent gardens all that much unless they're attached to a pub and the sun is shining.

Next we headed to the Marina Bay Sands building (the big ship one). It sort of summed up the city as a whole. As well as a luxury hotel it is a luxury shopping centre, of which I could afford very little. I think I'd need a trip to Cash Converters just to afford the parking fees. 

One of our "must dos" was to eat at a Michelin star restaurant (what a tyre company knows about judging restaurants is beyond me, but it seems a reputable guide). The restaurant we had in mind was Hong Kong Soya Sauce Chicken Rice & Noodle owned by Chan Hon Meng, this meant another trip to Chinatown (our second visit to two different Chinatowns having only just recently left the actual China town of Beijing!)

The reason for our visit to Hong Kong Soya Sauce Chicken Rice & Noodle was that it is officially the cheapest Michelin starred restaurant in the world. The restaurant owner has quite a nice story. A man from humble beginnings left school at 15 to work in a restaurant. He learned his trade from a Hong Kong chef and soon opened his hawker-style food cart. A representative from Michelin visited his stall and awarded him a star commenting that a star is awarded for quality of food, not how nice the restaurant is. Well, this guy seized his opportunity and cashed in on his 15 minutes of fame. The stall has gone and has been replaced by a fast food-style restaurant donning his star. And here it is, Michelin star advertising but sub-McDonald's quality.

Dry, cold rice, bony meat, and being hassled by the other customers for a table all for S$3.80 (£2.00). I can't help but feel I was overcharged. 

The day was coming to a close and our itinerary was almost concluded, luckily there was an Arsenal game to keep us entertained. Let's not talk about the score though. 

In the evening we left Clarke Quay and strolled down to the bay. We stopped by the statue of the big man. Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles. It was this very spot where is boat first landed on Singaporean shores on the 28th of January 1819, and it's fair to say his vision has become a success.

The next morning we flew out to Indonesia concluding our short-lived time in Singapore. 24 hours was possibly enough (especially at Singaporean prices!) on to the next one.

Malaysia: KL, Picturesque Beaches and Jellyfish

China can wear you down very easily, so this extended break over Chinese Spring Festival (Chinese New Year) was much needed. Our first of many destinations was to Langkawi, Malaysia. We arrived to stunning weather and shortly after arriving at our hostel were straight down the beach.

The island is idyllic, something you imagine to see on a post card. There are very few people there making it the ideal relaxation destination. We strolled along the pristine white beach of Pantai Cenang and forgot about all our worries. This lasted for about 10 minutes when I received a sharp, stabbing pain in my ankle. I looked down only to see a small jellyfish. I ran from the water in tremendous pain with my entire foot tingling. I had never been stung by a jellyfish before so wasn't sure how to treat the pain. My mind went to that episode of Friends when Monica gets a sting and Joey has to pee on it. I was tempted to ask Eunju to pee on my ankle, but I don't think we're at that stage of our relationship yet. And anyway, asking your girlfriend to do things like that just ends up with a fetish of golden showers and I don't need that mental trauma in my life.

I thought the best idea would be to Google how to treat such a sting. I hobbled down the beach a little further and found a bar. I ordered a pint and a plate of chips before asking for their WiFi password, it's rude otherwise. 

The first Google search returned a step-by-step method of what to do in such a painful event.

1. Tell an adult.
   This may have been a website for children, but the information was still relevant. I looked around and only saw Eunju and barmen who served an injured man alcohol, so I skipped this step.
2. Don't wash the sting with fresh water.
   I was on holiday, I had lager with no fresh water in sight.
3. Clean the sting with vinegar
   I had already ordered my chips, so the vinegar would go well on both. And I'm British so I smell of salt and vinegar most of the time anyway.
4. Advise someone to take you to the hospital if they notice the following symptoms:
   a) Struggling to drink - definitely not an issue as I'd seen away a pint by that stage
   b) Muscles twitching - I haven't got any to twitch in the first place
   c) A change in vocal tone - I have a Korean girlfriend, if I don't change my tone then we can't communicate
   d) Feeling nauseous - that could be the sting or the beers on the flight

It turned out that I didn't require to go to the hospital, vinegar did the trick and it worked for my ankle too. 

After some research, it turns out that there are large numbers of jellyfish in the waters surrounding Pantai Cenang. They can potentially paralyze or even kill people. I say just give them another 3% and make them water. 

We spent the rest of the evening relaxing and enjoyed the sunset. I realised that I was in a place so far removed from Beijing. I was on a sparsely populated beach, no one was spitting, the skies were clear and I had unlimited access to Google. After my jellyfish search I made sure to Google The Tiananmen Square Massacre of 1989 just because I could.

We spent the following few days scooting around the island and pretty much covered all the hot spots. Although, we never made it to Kok Beach despite Eunju's persuasions. 

Our few days on Langkawi were over too quickly and we make the short journey to the capital, Kuala Lumpur. We only allotted a short time here so we had a lot to pack in. Having just left Beijing the first place we headed to was Chinatown, mainly because that's where we were staying and secondly because we were missing that sound of someone hocking phlegm and the Beijing bikini.

We just had to try the southeast Asian delicace of durian. It's a fruit which is famous for its terrible smell but delicious taste. Eunju's face will tell you everything you need to know. It smells bad, and tastes worse.

We took in the sights of the city before finishing the evening at Heli Lounge Bar. This is probably the coolest bar I've ever been to. It's an operational heli pad at the top of the Menara KH building, but in the evening it becomes a rooftop bar serving drinks 34 floors up. We got a great view of the city and it rounded off our time in KL perfectly. I just wish I had a decent camera to capture that moment better.


Our week in Malaysia was over and we were making the short trip to Singapore. I was one of many British people to have left Malaysia, it's just I'm leaving this country with a little more dignity than my countrymen did in January 1942 when British forces retreated to Singapore after conceding defeat to the Japanese invasion. Eunju and I united and shared a moment to loathe the Japanese. 

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.