We were all in our finery for the visit to the Kumsusan Palace - and it had all its flags up waving to greet us.
The palace was built in 1976 as the official residence of Kim Il Sung (“KIS”). After his death in 1994 it became his mausoleum and, since 2012, that of his son Kim Jong Il (“KJI”) as well. All stories about KIS start with “The people desperately wanted to build a palace/ tomb/ monument/ library for the great leader, but he was so modest and so much a man of the people that he refused, but the people insisted again and again and finally KIS agreed on the condition that the palace/ tomb/ monument/ library etc etc was for the people, not just for him”.
Mr Kang was stressed and snappy – I guess because it was Liberation Day and he was on show to senior party people, he was nervous about us presenting ourselves well. Gentlemen had been warned they would need trousers, long sleeve shirt and a tie at minimum. The ladies were given no guidance and so there was a variety of outfit styles on show. No sandals or flipflops or trainers.
Some of the other tour groups looked like they had thrown clothes into the middle of the floor and dived in to see what they could grab – quite funny.
Very disorganised organization – all the tour groups turned up to the holding room at one time, and we all squeezed into one small room. The guides did not keep us segregated, so when we then moved out into lines, the groups were all mixed up and we had to try to dive into the lines with the rest of our group once we were allowed to frogmarch around a quadrangle and down into the formal reception building where we had to leave all bags and cameras. Then we had a full metal detector and body scan. This is the most revered place in DPRK I guess, so they take it seriously.
No photos allowed inside, so you are stuck with my descriptions I am afraid.
We were led up to the ground floor level, to a long corridor with glass walls either side overlooking the garden to the left and the Palace to the right. There were moving walkways like you find in airports – one heading away, and another heading towards us. We were told in no uncertain terms we were to STAND not WALK on them. So we all stood like a bunch of lazy wallies moving slowly along. About halfway along we saw people on the opposite walkway coming towards us (also standing stiffly), and contrary to other blogs I had read, the men in full military uniform (including puffy hats) stared at us quite unabashedly as we passed each other in slow motion. The most amusing part was that their chests were dripping with medals – where on earth had they got these? DPRK has not had a conflict with anyone for years. Nick speculated that they might be like scouts badges – maybe one for fire lighting, one for stripping and assembling their weapons in record time, knot tying etc… The second most amusing part was that the more senior the officer, the more ill-fitting his uniform. It seems that fabric is considered a sign of rank, and the suits got baggier and baggier with each rank you ascend.
In general we found that most DPRK citizens would just not look at us, not that they were avoiding looking at us, we were just completely uninteresting to them. The kids were a little different – they seemed to find us tourists more amusing than anything. I would hazard a guess that they felt sorry for us – they are told that they live in the best place on earth and everyone would like to live there…
So, back to the neverending walkway. We got to the end of the walkway, went down some escalators underground again, turned right, and saw …. Another long moving walkway. As this one was underground with no windows, we were instead entertained by large framed photographs every two metres or so of KIS and KJI at various exciting events like standing in a factory, gazing longingly at a buffet, cooking chicken somewhere, getting out of a car, standing on a mountain etc etc. Some seemed really badly photoshopped, like they weren’t at the location at all. There were descriptions and dates underneath each, but they were in Korean so not much use to us.
The problem for me was SS and I were next to Nick, and after the 14th photo of KJI wearing his black jumpsuit and Imelda Marcos sunglasses with backcombed Elvis hair, Nick decided to solemnly point out that KJI looked like a middle aged butch-lesbian. Oh dear. The reverence and hallowed atmosphere of the surroundings, together with the cheesy photographs and the lesbian comment made me start to uncontrollably giggle. I felt myself going hot, my cheeks going red, and tears in my eyes as I tried not to laugh. Every photo we moved past just reiterated the lesbian-look. (Please note, I have nothing against butch-lesbians!).
We finally got to the end of the walkway, turned left, and went up another set of escalators (presumably to ground level), so that we were now inside the Palace. My giggles were not helped by our next stop which was a giant marble lined room, with two larger than life models (almost like taxidermy) about 8 feet tall of KIS and KJI at the end smiling at us. We were required to line up in lines four across and 5 rows, and each row in turn stepped forward to the line on the floor, did a bow, then turned right and walked out of the room. I had to just stare at the floor – I knew if I looked at the KJI model I would start laughing again. I bowed and scuttled as fast as I decently could. Out the door, round the corner, and then we all went single file through a short, low corridor which had giant high speed directional air blasting in all directions, I guess to dust us off, or remove germs, or void our capitalist thoughts, or something. Very weird. I nearly had a Marilyn moment in my dress, so they hadn’t thought it through really.
So now we were ready for the first pickle room. We were told what to do before we went in – form up in the rows of four across, then the front row bows at the feet of KIS, then walk to the left, bow again, walk around his head to the right, and bow one last time, then walk out. The room itself was very low lit in red light, with the glass case in the middle with KIS lying in it in his usual suit with a red velvet blankie pulled up to this chest. Everything from chest level downwards did not look real at all, I am not sure how he is preserved, but I am not convinced that anything below chest level is anything to do with him at all. Red ropes stopped you getting close to it, and there were highly polished soldiers in each corner fully armed standing at attention and ready for any transgression. I think these soldiers are picked solely for their height – they were all over 6 feet tall and in general most DPRK men are maximum 5 foot 8 or so.
So out of the pickle room, and we were ushered into the medals and awards room. Here there were display cases around all the walls and down the middle with honourary degrees (with the robes), medals, gifts and so on. They were divided into regions, starting with North Korea (where he had medals for things like “Order of Magnitude First Class”) and then into the rest of Asia (ie Indonesia, Burma, Cambodia, nothing like Singapore etc). Then on to “Europe” which was pretty much all Russia, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia and Poland, some random France and Portugal, and then … UK! Yes, KIS was awarded the “Medallion of Derbyshire” back in the 1950s. Huh??? Which left leaning socialist councilor thought that was a suitable award to be given out? {Interestingly, I googled this when we got back to internet-land, and a man on a previous tour got in touch with Derbyshire County with a 'Freedom of Information' request. They found no information, though they invited him to look through several decades of council minutes in case they had missed it. Needless to say he didn’t bother}. That brought us on to “America” ie Cuba, Ecuador and Peru. We were having a lovely time “admiring” the booty, but I think Mr Kang realized we were more bemused than impressed, plus we were on a time limit, so he ushered us into a corridor to wait for the others.
Next we went through the rooms where KIS’s personal transportation was kept. First up was his personal train carriage in a large room, with a huge wall map showing where the train had gone, and then lit up lines showing where he had flown to (thank God they didn’t have the 747 he flew on in the next room…). Amusingly, the map did not include the Americas at all, just Asia, Europe and a bit of Africa. We also got to see his car, and then his rather large military looking “yacht” – a huge boat. The guides confirmed that these large items were put in place, and then the building was built around them, there was certainly no door they could fit through.
Next up, groundhog day as we went through the same process for the pickle room for KJI. Through another wind blast corridor, into a red room, form up into rows, bow-bow-bow, out the side and into the KJI medal and award room. Not quite the same level of loving from the rest of the world as KIS had, but then KIS had longer in power! And no Medallion of Derbyshire! On to his “train carriage” room and map (both more modest than KIS’s, and in this case rather than wooden paneling he had 70’s style lino lining). The interesting thing was that KJI actually died in the carriage, and the desk is kept exactly how it was when his head hit it, right down to the laptop (which is now powered down of course). Next we were trooped past his car, and then past his golf buggy (with a helpful photo next to it of KJI with Kim Jong Un both riding on it – wheeeee). We were all pretty tired by now, so it was almost a relief to be marched back down to travelator land, so we could now go slowly back to the bag check area again, watching people heading in for their own experience.
After collecting our belongings, we were marched out to the front of the Palace and let loose to take photos. I was fascinated by the little school girls in the uniforms – so neat and sweet looking.
But it was SO hot outside, and my sunglasses and fan were in the bus. So I was dripping. All the guys on the tour took their ties off, but still had long sleeves and long trousers so it must have been really hot for them as well. Eventually we were allowed back on the bus again and headed back into town, crossing some bridges were some men were walking in the shallow water fishing - no day off for them.
We had a quick stop on the way back to the hotel at Kim Il Sung Square to take photos. There was a random volleyball game going on at the side of the square (looked very like a set-up to us), but it made for some nice photos.
There were random families having photos on the back of stuffed horses with their child...
And others heading into what looked like an underground black market (we were told not to take photos), but surely they wouldn't have one in the middle of KIS square???
There were also a lot of ladies around already in their traditional dresses, getting ready for the night’s mass dancing.
And otherwise we just appreciated the grandeur and scale of the place, also noting the dots painted on the ground setting out where the mass dancers should line up later. It was still very hot and humid (and therefore hazy) so not ideal photo taking weather, but we did out best.
We all baulked at going anywhere else without changing out of our “finery” so back to the hotel for a quick shower and change.
12:30pm and we were back on the bus and off to lunch at a weird restaurant in the middle of nowhere from what we could tell. Lunch was pretty bad – fried chicken, chips, cabbage, pasta worms in spicy sauce (sauce was nice), weird fried bread in sugar syrup (which none of us ate). We milled around outside afterwards waiting for the rest (and one of the Germans went for a quick walk down to the taxi rank but was quickly herded back by Mr Kang).
Then back on the bus and off to the circus. I wish that phrase was a joke. The circus building was back on the huge main road, and clearly it was being used to keep a lot of tour groups busy. On big days like Liberation Day when you book the tour you are told that “no-one knows what will happen on the day, but we will try to make sure you get to do whatever is on offer eg see a military parade etc”. Having been there, I can assure you they do know what is going on, and just come up with something to keep you busy (circus) and something to make you feel the trip was worthwhile (mass dancing). But the DPRK tour company knew months in advance that there was not going to be a military parade. We filed in, sat down, and waited about 40 minutes for the performance to start. People watching was fun in any event.
The circus was a cirque du soleil type, with people doing things with their bodies that should not be allowed.
For the first ten minutes all we could see were people in front of us with their iphones glowing, taking photos and videoing, and then bit by bit the phones went off as the helpful usherettes told everyone to turn their phones off. Needless to say SS was asleep by now, and the rest of our group also had a nice few moments of napping. I took my nap during the slapstick style hideousness, but woke up again for the gymnastics (performed in military style khaki leotards – surreal. The synchronized swimmers were great and the balancing acts were amazing. And then it was over bar the bowing.
90 minutes later we were back out to the bus and off to a souvenir shop. SS finally bought his ginseng with the help of Mr Kang, but that was it. Some others bought some tat, and then… you guessed it, back into the bus. Off to the foreign language bookstore. We had timed this well and for the first time had the place to ourselves – the other tour groups only arrived as we were leaving. Phew. SS and I bought a handpainted poster (non-military in style) all about how children are the future etc. Euro56 but still worth it – we have had it framed now that we are back and it looks great in the music room.
It was dinner time now of course so we headed to the Taekanggdon Diplomats Club.
We were treated to Ms Pang singing as we left (since she was last on the bus) and she had an amazing voice.
Weird setup up at the club with some of the dining tables overlooking the paddle pool full of party faithful and their kids (and reeking of chlorine, I was pleased to see as we left that this was where the YPT guys had to eat). We were sat outside in a side room, overlooking the USS Pueblo and the river.
Dinner was one of the best – sushi rolls, squid, spicy sauce, duck, chicken, lettuce wraps, beef and salads. So much food.
The guilt of leaving it when you know that people in the country are starving is quite something. But back on the bus for us and back to Kim Il Sung square for the mass dancing. There were still loads of people on the streets, and others in their finery ready for the dancing.
Back across the river...
We parked up and as we walked down we were shown two different spots to meet should the tour group get separated. You could tell Mr Kang was wetting himself with fear at losing someone – I presume that is off to the gulag for him! All the inspiring rhetoric and erections around the square were lit up.
First we were marched up to some bandstands on the side of the square, then after we got comfy, they changed their minds and all the tour groups were marched up to the steps at the front of the square to watch from there. The various groups of dancers were assembling on the dots marked on the square.
It was all very impressive until we found out that the dancers are actually university students who are required to participate as part of their course. They are trained up by a professional and then given their costumes. The most photogenic and those with good English are placed near the front as they are the ones required to “spontaneously” dance with the tourists who are “encouraged” to join in after a while. It was pretty impressive nonetheless, I really enjoyed it. It was slightly strange that no senior party officials could be bothered to turn up. Effectively these tens of thousands of dancers were turning up to dance for a TV camera and some tourists. And then ... we're off!
They started at 8pm on the dot as the music started blaring through the very distorted speakers. The dances were like versions of 18th century polonaises and polkas, some Greek style etc. Some did not lend themselves to static close up photography...
And some did...
After about 15 minutes we received the strong encouragement to join in, and some of our group did and had a great time bouncing around with the locals. The dances are not particularly challenging – if you can line dance, you can pick up the moves pretty quickly. I went down to take some photos and video, but despite a few offers (I still got it baby!), I didn’t want to boogie.
Fireworks started at 8:30pm and went for about 10 minutes (the dancing continued).
Some of our group were doing pretty well out there...
At 8:55pm it all stopped, and the dancers lined up in rows again.
And all in time (and beating their chests rhythmically) they belted out some nationalist song (quite imposing),
And then they were done (and very sweaty, not surprisingly given the heat, exertion, and costumes).
So, back to the bus. Only two people went missing, and they were faithfully waiting at one of the designated spots for us, so all fine. All the buildings nearby were lit up to their finest, which was very pretty (apart from all the smiling posters of course).
Back to the hotel. We asked the guides and the German teenager to join us in the bar for a drink if they wanted, and we eventually ended up with quite a gang (not all of them invited specifically ;) ). We had the three guides (Mr Li likes his beer! Mr Kang Had cartons of milk, and Ms Pang had apple juice in a little carton). Then we had Ben, Noel, Kathy, Robert (the elderly Australian), Nick, Jake, Kristina and Lourens (the German who it turns out has just turned 18 and is in his last year of school – bless – he loved being out drinking with us, and knocked it back). We all squeezed into a booth with added chairs, and then Kathy pulled out Noel’s cards and taught us to pay the drinking game Kings.
It was pretty funny with the language divide, and age gap around the group… The Koreans left after about an hour or so, and then SS and I left around midnight along with Ben and Kristina.
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