Axis of Evil World Tour - An American's Travels in Iran, Iraq and North Korea

by Scott Fisher

  As we sat down, I did something I wouldn't normally do even on a bet - I took a seat as close as possible to a group of school kids. Constantly being chaperoned and hemmed-in by our guides was driving me nuts and I wanted to try talking to someone new and 'unauthorized'. Who better to try and break through the wall with than a bunch of hyped-up kids on a class trip?

  Trying to talk with some school kids at the circus. Those with the red scarves

  have already become 'Young Pioneers', the first rung of party membership.

  Photo courtesy Dan Harmon

  I started with a hearty hello that boomed across everyone in the next section. Followed by a goofy, "You guys come here much? This is my first time. I heard it's pretty fun though." As you can see from the picture above, I definitely got a reaction. After some dropped jaws and stunned looks, I had the whole group smiling and giggling. Now, to see if I could get anyone to talk to me.

  "Have you guys been here before? Or is this your first time?" Once they got past my weird, Seoul-style Korean accent all heads swung up toward their teacher to see if they could respond. She's the one in the picture just to the left of my head, fixing her necklace.

  No reaction.

  So I tried again. "This seems like a pretty nice building. Must be fun to come here with your class. What do you guys think?"

  Again, all eyes swung up to the teacher, and again she wasn't having any part of it. I could tell the kids were dying to answer, or at least say something, but without approval from the teacher, discipline held and they just kept looking and smiling.

  Once I figured out what was going on, I decided to go right to the source. This time I swiveled around a little further and addressed the teacher directly.

  "Hello!"

  Across the kid's section all eyes swung back up to their teacher, but zero acknowledgment. I didn't exist and this wasn't happening. By now I was getting irritated. The kids obviously wanted to talk, but Ms. Sourpuss was shutting me down. Once more I stared right at her and said hello. By this point, I could tell I was getting to her assistant (the one to her right in the picture). Finally, after some more staring and yet another hello, the assistant whispered something into the teacher's ear and gave a nod in my direction.

  Thus somewhat acknowledged, I again gave a nice greeting and followed up with a quick question about the place, just like I'd asked the kids. Finally, with her assistant and all her students staring at her, she was forced to respond.

  "The building is for the circus. It's very good."

  And with that she turned back toward the students, gave them a sharp look and said something I couldn't hear, but that apparently ended all hope of further response. I was dismissed and our conversation was over. The kids kept glancing at me as if to talk, but none of them were willing to risk their teacher's wrath. Another lost opportunity to have an interesting conversation.

  That pretty much soured me on the Pyongyang circus before it even began. Would it have been so bad to let the kids talk? Were they so fragile that a simple conversation with a foreigner would pollute them?

  Only a little over 24 hours and already my time in the North was beginning to irritate me. What kind of place was so tight and structured that even the simplest conversations had to be restricted, monitored and regulated?

  Some of the others in our group had seen what happened (you can see one person getting it on video in the picture above) and asked me what was going on. I started to bitch and moan about Ms. Sourpuss, but just then the performance started and it was time to turn our attention to center-stage.

  The performers first came out group-by-group: clowns, acrobats, twirlers, etc, maybe 20-30 performers in all. After some quick introductions, the show got under way, so close we could practically touch the performers. Things started out pretty tame, but in a short time heated up to some stunning indoor acrobatics.

  Photo courtesy Dan Harmon

  The building and equipment were definitely showing their age, but the performances were spectacular. People were flipping and flying all over the place. Several of the scenes had performers performing dangerous stunts, as shown here, without the aid of a net or safety wire.

  The whole show lasted about an hour and, while no Arirang, was still quite incredible. The best part though, was when some clowns came into the audience and grabbed a couple of people to join them on stage. Who do you think they chose?

  Ms. Sourpuss! After much cajoling and pressuring, they finally convinced her to come up on stage. Where, much to the delight of her students and our tour group, she proceeded to get the hell embarrassed out of her by some pretty sadistic clowns. Ah, the sweet justice of karma.

  After that highlight, the show came to a close and the audience gave the performers a huge round of applause. Next up for us was a quick mini-fight with the guides to gain approval to use the, apparently unapproved for foreigners, restrooms. Then it was back to the bus for the short ride home to the hotel. Day two was just about over.

  The busy streets of Pyongyang

  Photo courtesy Thomas St. John

  As it was a Sunday and everyone had the day off, the streets were somewhat more crowded than the day before. You could actually see people walking around, plus get a glimpse of the occasional car and SUV/Jeep-type vehicle.

  Pyongyang has a lot of very clean, beautiful parks, especially along its rivers, and quite a few (for Pyongyang anyway) people could be seen picnicking and enjoying the nice summer weather. The uncrowded, uncluttered and unhurried streets of Pyongyang are a huge contrast to any other city I have ever visited, especially in Asia and on the Korean peninsula.

  As you can see from the city scenery, the architecture of the North can best be described as 'Soviet-drab'. There are only a few buildings, like the one shown below, that pleasantly deviate from the norm and, simply by their sheer rarity, add a bit of eclecticism to the city's streets.

  Actual non-dull looking building

  Photo courtesy Thomas St. John

  Some of the city's newer museums (not shown here, but similar to the Kims' museums shown on tomorrow's visit to Mt. Myohyang), have been done in a newer, 'Super-Sized Traditional' style. A design method that, while somewhat imposing, does at least have a memorable Korean-style appearance.

  Any drive around town also brought along a complement of roadside propaganda signs, plus pictures of the Kims:

  Photo courtesy Thomas St. John

  "With the great general, we will win!"

  Photo courtesy Thomas St. John

  Mt. Myohyang and the International Friendship Exhibition

  Known as the 'mountain of mysterious fragrance', Mt. Myohyang (Myohyangsan in Korean) is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen on the Korean peninsula. Thanks to the International Friendship Exhibition, it is also one of the weirdest. Though the name sounds nice enough, an exhibition of friendship, in reality the place is best described as the mecca of Kim-clan worship.

  We arrived at the mountain after a three-hour bus ride that took us north, up the center of the country, about halfway to the border with China. Another day on the bus talking to the guides, which by this time was beginning to get on everyone's nerves, did at least offer some interesting moments. For one thing, it allowed us to get to know them a little better, at least the part of themselves they allowed us to know. Mr. Baek, for example, proved to be a huge music fan. He happily whiled away a good part of the trip listening to one of our MP3 players. A device which confused him at first, "How do you put the music in it?" but soon had him stretched out in the back of the bus with headphones and a relaxed smile.

  After exhausting our music collection, we got to talking about money, not salaries, but actual bills and coins. As foreigners in North Korea, we were forced to use a separate currency reserved only for tourists and visitors (a policy that's reportedly since been changed). For young Mr. Huk, some of the bills we had were new, and he seemed to enjoy the chance to look them over. We also showed him some of the Chinese money we had from our
time in Beijing. In return, they gave us a chance to check out some of their "real" North Korean currency.

  It was then that I remembered I had some South Korean change sitting in my bag. I dug up a 50-won coin and showed it to Mr. Baek, who was sitting in front of me. He curiously looked it over for a bit and then handed it back. Just then Mr. Huk, who'd been talking to someone else, happened to turn and see the coin. Thinking it was from China, he held out his hand to take a look, while simultaneously asking where it was from.

  When I reached over, I saw Mr. Baek's eyes go wide in anticipation. As I went to drop the coin into Mr. Huk's hand, I said it was from the South. He jerked his hand back like I was pouring acid. His whole body literally recoiled at the presence of the coin.

  "No thank you, I do not want to see it."

  With that he turned away, visibly shaken at my affront to his sensibilities. Mr. Baek gave me a grin and told me I'd better put the money back in my bag.

  Mt. Myohyang and the International Friendship Exhibition, home to shrines for the 'Great Leader', Kim Il-sung, and his son the 'Dear Leader', Kim Jong-il.

  Photo courtesy Thomas St. John

  Entrance to the shrine of Kim Il-sung, International Friendship Exhibition (located just out of sight at the top of the road in the picture above)

  Photo courtesy Dan Harmon

  As we neared Myohyangsan, the trip began to get much more scenic. Instead of hills, we started to see mountains, while denuded farmland gradually gave way to forest. For several miles we drove through the lush mountain scenery you see here, until finally pulling into the International Friendship Exhibition, top picture above.

  A gentle rain was coming down and made the area even more peaceful and secluded. As we got out of the bus, we could get a basic idea of the layout. In the middle were a couple of long, low, administrative-type buildings, while at either end were much more ornate structures with traditional Korean architecture.

  These traditional-style buildings turned out to house the two main "friendship" exhibits, one devoted to Kim Il-sung, the other to Kim Jong-il. This is when we found out "International Friendship Exhibition" really means "Shrines Housing Gifts Donated by Foreign Countries to the Glorious Kims". Our guides turned very serious at this point, telling us we needed to be, "proper and respectful at all times."

  Honor Guard, Shrine to Kim Il-sung

  Photo courtesy Dan Harmon

  Kim Jong-il Shrine - notice the shoe covers

  Photo courtesy Thomas St. John

  We visited the museums in order of hierarchy, first Kim Il-sung, then Kim Jong-il. As we approached the first building, we could see honor guards on both sides of the door - a door the local guide warned us not to touch. Instead, we were told to select a member of our group to don ceremonial white gloves, then he would have the honor of opening the door.

  Once inside, the first thing we were instructed to do was put covers on over our shoes. The polished marble floors of the Kim shrine were not to be dirtied by the soles of our nasty shoes. Once properly attired, we were ordered to turn over all of our cameras and bags for safekeeping until the end of the tour. No sneaking unauthorized pictures in the Kim Il-sung shrine. Friendship, apparently, is a one-way street.

  The tour began by the guide leading us down a long hall into the hushed, peaceful interior of the building. Since it had been a very long bus ride, we next asked to see the hushed, peaceful interior of the rest room. The guide pointed out the direction and, once a ways away and having noticed the slipperiness of our shoe coverings, we were gliding around the polished floors like giddy school kids on a frozen pond.

  Once out of sight of all guides and guards (a true rarity), we found that with a running start you could slide a good three meters (9 feet) across what is easily the most polished floor on the face of the planet. I've been on ice stickier than that floor. Soon the place was echoing with the shouts and collisions of our impromptu skating competition.

  Unfortunately, this was hardly the "proper and respectful" attitude Mr. Huk and Mr. Baek had in mind. Once we had skated our way back into sight, we were quickly urged to quiet down. The local guide just gave us a puzzled look and restarted the tour.

  The tour consisted of room after room of gifts to Kim Il-sung from around the world, broken down by geographic area. Here gifts from Russia, there gifts from Africa, another room for the Americas, etc. The place was colossal, the picture above in no way does it justice. We could have spent all day wandering around the place and still not seen it all. God knows (Kim Il-sung knows?) though, the schedule would never have permitted that. We were just shown some of the larger rooms and the more interesting gifts. The winners here were easily the armored train cars presented by the Soviet Union and China back in the glorious days of communist brotherhood. The cars were truly plush, all wood and silk and fine embroidery. Certainly not a bad way to travel and, after our experience with Air Koryo, solid evidence as to why the Kims nearly always travel by train.

  The most memorable room though, was the inner sanctum of the Kim Il-sung shrine. Before being allowed in, the guides turned hyper-serious. Telling us we were about to see a representation of the Great Leader, they insisted on a solemn and respectful demeanor. We were to enter, bow our heads and leave without uttering a word, or laughing, or smiling, or, left unsaid, sliding around like idiots. Even with gloves, we weren't allowed to touch this door, the local guide opened it for us.

  Standing as if amidst trees and water, a life-size wax figure looked on all who entered. The lighting was all on Kim, making him really appear to be standing before us. As we quietly approached, you could see the effects put into maintaining the aura. In this windowless, soundproof room, the fake water glistened and rippled, while the fake leaves on the fake trees stirred as if from a passing breeze. At the center of it all was an amazingly life-like Kim, slightly elevated, as if standing on a rise, looking down on our little group.

  We paused at the guide's signal, before we got too close. We stood looking at the figure and background while the guides bowed their heads, then we were quickly ushered out. It had lasted all of 30 seconds, but the guide acted as if we'd undergone a life-altering experience. When I asked about the glistening water and blowing leaves she and Mr. Huk beamed.

  "I didn't think you were paying attention. You did see. How did you feel on seeing our Great Leader?"

  I rattled off something about how devoted his people must be to have built a place like this. The local guide agreed. She regaled me with how people from around the world visited to pay their respects to the Great Leader (I guess that now somehow includes me) and honor him with the fabulous gifts we had just seen.

  "People come from around the world with the best their country has to offer. Koreans never need to leave Korea to see the world. The best things from every country are all right here."

  Now how can anyone argue with that?

  Kim Jong-il Museum/Shrine

  After the highlight of viewing Kim's wax figure, we were led out of his shrine and down the road to the shrine of his son. Of course, this was after removing our shoe covers and being given back our bags and cameras.

  Items we had to immediately turn right back in as we entered the Junior Kim's shrine. We even had to put on shoe covers again. Though one member of our group did manage to slip a small, single-use camera into his pocket without the guides noticing. Not being able to take pictures of some of these gifts and accompanying plaques was very frustrating, and explains why there are so few pictures in this chapter.

  In contrast to the visit to his dad's place, in the Kim Jong-il shrine our first stop was the inner sanctum with the statue of Kim. The same seriousness came over the guides as we were again warned to be on our best behavior. The drill was the same - enter in strict silence, gaze upon Kim's raised and seated visage (think Lincoln Monument in Washington D.C.), bow heads for a moment, then exit quickly.

  This time though, the guides weren't paying as much attention. As we left, one of our group was a
ble to hang back and surreptitiously snap the photo you see below. Not bad considering he had to yank out the camera, point and shoot from pocket level, and then get the camera back into his pocket before anyone noticed. Had he been caught, the repercussions could have been severe. Luckily, everything went fine and below you can see what is perhaps the only unofficial photo ever published of the inside of that shrine.

  'Illegal' photo of the Kim Jong-il statue inside the Kim Jong-il shrine.

  Photo courtesy Brian Stuart

  After that, we were taken to see the gifts to Kim Jong-il. This was actually more interesting than his dad's place, mainly because everything was more recent (Kim Jr. having taking over only in the mid-90s). The first room we were taken contained gifts presented by prominent South Korean industrialists during their visits in the late 90s. Sitting side-by-side were top-of-the-line LG, Samsung and Hyundai entertainment systems, complete with large screen TVs, stereos, VCRs and plenty of speakers. Some of the same equipment you might have sitting in your living room, here sitting in a museum showing off the glorious gifts received by the Dear Leader.

  The next room contained more gifts from the South, including a Hyundai Grandeur donated by the former chairman of Hyundai (whose family is originally from the North). Mr. Huk asked me if I'd ever seen one of these cars during my time in the South. When I said, "Sure, my neighbor has one just like it," you could tell he thought I was lying. How could such a great gift, a gift implying so much respect, belong to some normal bozo like my neighbor? This was obviously a car reserved for the elite, capitalist oppressors, not some common car for the masses. When I told him I wished the chairman had given away a lot more so there'd be less traffic in the South, he got fed up with my obvious lies, gave me a disgusted look and moved on to proselytize someone else.