Rightly or wrongly, I'm going to blog about North Korea purely as a place to visit... I will make no commentary about the way the country is ruled. Nor -- because I have absolutely no way of judging -- will I speculate about the political convictions of those we met or observed. The arguments about whether you should go to North Korea at all are well rehearsed in Lonely Planet. Clearly, we came down on the side of yes, and I have no regrets about that.

First, a few practicalities. You cannot travel independently to North Korea. And you cannot wander off by yourself while you are there. This would have been hard to cope with had our accommodation not offered reasonable amounts of space, and had our imposed companions not been absolutely delightful. (We travelled around as a little family of five -- the two of us, a guide, a driver, and a trainee guide -- and we were genuinely very sad to say goodbye to them. We often stay in touch with our guides, and many become friends, but in this case that's unlikely to be possible. That certainly adds a poignancy to the trip.)



Our eight-day itinerary was organized by Undiscovered Destinations in conjunction with Koryo Tours. Ultimately, all operators work with the Korean International Travel Company. We spent time in Pyongyang, Kaesong (down by the DMZ), Hamhung and Wonsan (over on the East Sea coast), and Myohyangsan (up in the mountains two hours or so north of Pyongyang). All made excellent destinations. We flew in from Beijing with Air Koryo, and returned to Beijing by train (a journey of about 22 hours).

So here's my Top Ten:

1. Being transported to a different world. This is an awkward one to kick off with. Top Tens are supposed to be celebratory, drawing on factors that those inside the country would also feel proud of. But as I noted above, I have no way of knowing the extent to which North Korea's population would celebrate the qualities that contribute to this item on the list. So it feels a little voyeuristic. Nevertheless, the fact remains that you wouldn't go to North Korea unless you were in search of difference. Forming the backdrop to this brave old world are exhortatory posters and slogans; ubiquitous pictures of Eternal President Kim Il-sung and Leader Kim Jong-il; a multiplicity of flags and other prominent symbols (such as the hammer, sickle and calligraphy brush); and far more soldiers than you would see on your average streets (although the vast majority are carrying out non-military activities such as building). The soundscape includes a regular diet of martial music and speeches; stately music emerging from bushes in the commemorative parks; and karaoke videos of patriotic songs while you're having your meals (very catchy songs, mind you, which will rapidly become ear-worms). You also immediately notice the total lack both of commercial advertising (such that you often have to look really carefully to spot the shops), and of the little makeshift stalls that populate the roadsides of so many Asian cities. It's different, in spades.









2. A glimpse of an era before the car took over. On the broad streets of Pyongyang itself there are cars, but far fewer than you see in most cities; there is a (very deep) underground; and there is a network of trams, buses, and trolley buses. (These are usually packed to the gunwales -- but hey, that's not unique to here.) Otherwise, the way you move is on foot or by bicycle. And bicycle means a basic bicycle, with a basket on the front, and no gears. There are hardly any motorbikes. Outside the cities, motorized vehicles are mostly small trucks, carrying either goods or people. Otherwise it's feet and bicycles again. Now, I don't want to glorify the virtues of sweating slowly along in the sun, or getting covered in dust in the back of a truck. And I am willing to speculate that the vast majority of people would really appreciate a little motorbike (and the capacity to afford the petrol to put in it). But I've grown up in the era of the motorized vehicle, and have seen them ever more obnoxiously rampaging everywhere. It's been very interesting to encounter a situation where -- for good or ill -- the car is not king.









3. Flowers, umbrellas, and whimsy. The North Korean built environment can be solemn. But every highway we travelled was lined with wild flowers, and the vast majority of apartment balconies sported window boxes (often alongside their solar panels). Umbrellas have become a new art form. And we never discovered the stories behind them, but whimsical animals brightened many a street.





4. Dancing. To mark the 70th anniversary of the surrender of Japan, 12,000 people turned out to dance in Kim Il-sung Square. Traditional dances, waltzes, rumbas, you name it -- they danced for a whole hour. Mesmerizing. But in informal settings you often catch North Koreans dancing, too, which is why I don't share the impression of some fellow-tourists that the mass dancing is forced on an unwilling populace. On the same public holiday, Moran Park in Pyongyang was alive with little groups barbecuing, picnicking, playing volleyball -- and dancing. All kinds of music, styles, and age-groups. All kinds of exuberant, unselfconscious, heart-warming dancing. North Koreans are dancers. I didn't expect that.









5. Performance. Might North Korea be characterized as a "performance state"? Of course, impeccable performance is associated with national image in many parts of the world (just look at those massive Olympic spectacles...). But in NK, the state imprimatur is even heavier. Two examples stand out. On that same 70th anniversary, a (humans only) performance by the Pyongyang Circus was staged. It was an awe-inspiring, heart-stopping succession of brilliant acts. And on the aircraft and at various hotels and restaurants, we saw recordings of the Moranbong Band, a group of musicians and singers from the military, who play a variety of styles of music fantastically well. You almost forget they're military -- until the camera pans to show all the top brass sitting in the front row. I think I'm terribly susceptible. I DO get a warm, fuzzy feeling when I see human beings doing something amazing... I may not feel differently about North Korea on account of these performances, but I certainly feel differently about North Koreans... For me, though, the tactic worked less well at the International Friendship Exhibition. This is itself a slickly choreographed performance. In huge underground galleries, reached after much ceremony and security-checking, are displayed all the gifts given to the president and the leader, whether by governments, organizations, or individuals. The role of the gathered objects is clearly to proclaim: "See how the world loves us." But because there were no people involved, this particular performance left me cold (also literally cold, as it's freezing down there...).





6. Food. This was a surprise. Frankly, my memories of early-1990s Russia had led me to expect the equivalent of the ghastly "people's oats" and "people's mayonnaise" we'd met there. But everywhere the food was at worst perfectly adequate, and at best absolutely fantastic. Korean staples like kimchi are just as delicious at this end of the peninsula. And there were some real stars: the way they do their cucumber (in a really light, faintly sweet vinegar); potatoes that taste like they did in my childhood; omija and ginseng tea; surprisingly good ice-cream; the exquisite 12 dishes in little gold bowls that we enjoyed in Kaesong; the spread of seafood our little "family" was treated to in Wonsan, with sashimi, carp, and another fish; and in Pyongyang, many highlights: the personalized hotpots we cooked up on our own little burners; a fine dumpling and rice-cake soup, served steamboat-style; and an excellent bowl of cold noodles, the icy broth flavoured with mustard, vinegar, and soy sauce. Clearly, only the elites can access the kind of fare served to tourists -- but again this is true of many of the places we visit.





7. Mountains. The countryside is spectacular. About 80% of the terrain is made up of mountains, and they are massive, steep, densely forested, and extraordinarily beautiful.





8. Iconography. If you can't beat them, join them... While away your spare moments comparing photos with official renderings, and counting the different backgrounds (my favourites were the snow scenes).







9. Reminders of the south. This is, of course, a split peninsula. That reality is laid bare most starkly at the DMZ, but you're constantly reminded of the common Korean heritage when visiting temples and other historical monuments. A rather graceful monument, showing two Korean women holding a reunited Korea, marks the beginning of the Reunification Highway, stretching from Pyongyang to the border. Will it ever happen?











10. Being by the sea. Born on an island, I always feel there's something unifying about the seaside. And certainly the crunch of the sand, the swoosh of the waves, the cry of the seabirds, and the buzz of humans at play made this aspect of North Korea seem very homely and familiar. Not far away from our two bits of sea were a huge fertilizer factory and an equally huge cooperative farm, both of which we found fascinating but ultimately remote from our experience. Watching knots of people on the beach at Hamhung, splashing, picnicking, and dancing, or on the little pier in Wonsan, buying and grilling shellfish to eat as the sun went down, I thought how connected we all are, regretted all the more that it's so difficult to get to know North Koreans, and felt all the more grateful for the tiny bridges of connection we have been able to build during this time.