North Korea: Part One by Safia Southey

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As the plane began its descent, vast areas of empty terrain divided into sharp rectangles was all I could see. Construction sites peppered with mountains and covered in snow filled the land, with the promise of new development in the years and decades to come. Small identical villages were visible every so often in the middle of this nowhere land, not seemingly connected by any major roads. “No filming,” my flight attendant told me, as I positioned my camera outside my window. On the plane, they tried to sell me “Royal Blood-Fresh,” a soybean extract for thrombosis (“Who says you can’t grow younger and cleverer”); I didn’t purchase any. We were provided with the local newspaper, with strict instructions not to fold them in a way which hurt the image of the country’s leaders on front. In-flight entertainment was a sole screen playing a concert recording of a young girl in military uniform singing passionately, although I am not sure about what. Her airy singing filled the plane, giving an extremely ominous aura in the moments leading to touch down. Finally, we hit the runaway, the only airplane in site. We were in the DPRK; we were in North Korea.

There was a snowstorm the previous night, so hundreds of workers were furiously plowing snow to make way for planes. It goes to show how low wages are, or practically nonexistent, when it is less expensive to hire so many people than simply to use machine plows. The airport was completely empty, except for the people on our flight who were either other members of the tour group, Russian diplomats, or local businessmen returning from workshops and such in China. I had to change my phone to reflect the 30-minute time change from Beijing, apparently originally made in order to differentiate it from Japan. The airport was white and clean and stark, empty except for a small Duty Free packed with tobacco and whisky and a small coffee shop with Nescafé, and plastic greenery every so often to add some color to the otherwise plain building. Soldiers patrolled the area, studying foreigners as they collected their luggage. Customs was surprisingly easy; I kept being afraid that someone would suddenly realize I was American and send me home, but luckily that moment never came. Officers asked to see my books, my computer, my phone, and while they didn’t search them as I was warned, apparently they took hours going through the belongings of the people who came to Pyongyang over train while searching for any offensive or problematic materials. Outside the airport, the area looked like a lost relic from Soviet times, every car dating back to the 60s in pastel colors straight from a Wes Anderson movie.

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We were hustled into a tour bus out of the negative degree weather, while being introduced to our Korean hosts. Our guide, Kim, began by telling us the history of the DPRK (I noted how she never explicitly used the name North Korea). Each house we passed by was identical out in the countryside, each a pale pink buried in the snow, all with frozen lakes somewhat nearby.

“Do you want to hear a traditional Korean joke?” Kim asked us.

“Okay: Father and son are quarrelling because son is stupid and doesn’t know one plus one equals two. One day, the son’s teacher scolds the father for not teaching his son enough when growing up, so the father tells the son that he must learn more and would be tested the next day. The day after, the father asks son what one plus one equals, and the son said he learned it, but had already forgot! You idiot, the father yelled, one plus one, what does it equal? What do you get when you put you and me together? The son immediately responded: Two idiots!”

After some polite laughs, Kim proceeded to tell us the rules of the trip:

  • No folding newspapers on the face of the leaders

  • Pictures must be of the full leaders, without cropping

  • No posing in pictures with the leaders

  • No photos of military checkpoints or of soldiers

  • No photos of individuals

  • No going anywhere without a guard

  • No spreading religion

  • No trying to find Internet - “research centers may pick up your signal and give us a fine,” Kim warned.

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I was mostly focused on the photography rules, especially as I was going to be taking the 23 hours train back to Beijing and knew that my photos would be searched. Our bus left the rural areas and arrived in Pyongyang, which was drastically different than I had expected. We got out and began to walk the streets, passing by tall building covered in lights and hoards of people returning home after work. In the DPRK, people work from 8 to 6, with a long lunch break during which people nap in order to improve productivity, I was instructed. The masses blended together, with everyone wearing a variation of the same black or dark brown jacket with matching black or dark brown pants (not jeans, however, because that would be too American). We passed by a large copy of the Arch de Triumph, which Kim proudly said was larger than the original in Paris. Hundreds of cars zoomed down the highways in what I assumed to be rush hour, past the colorful buildings and shops on the streets. Large building complexes were being demolished, with construction sites every couple of streets. Kim explained that all houses prior to 2014 were to be torn down and rebuilt with newer, modern versions. We began to talk about our lives and where I’m from and such, and I asked Kim why she had decided to become a tour guide. She looked down at first and gave a little laugh, and finally said that she hadn’t; she went to school for tourism, and the school chose her to become a guide. She had no choice in the matter, she explained, most people in the country did not get a decision in their career. Pyongyang nightlife doesn’t exist, the bars close before nine, and people want to get back to their families although there is no state enforced curfew. We passed by dozens of statues and mammoth portraits of Kim Jong Un and Kim Jong Il, illuminated with power that any of the dimly lit shops we were passing would die for. After exploring the elaborate and surprisingly beautiful architecture for quite a while, we returned to the bus and made our way to the hotel.

The group of individuals on this tour is interesting, representing nearly the entire Anglophone world, from South Africa, England, Wales, Ireland, Australia, and Iceland, along with people from Peru, Mexico, Italy, Croatia, Switzerland, and little me from Canada. There were 20 of us in total, a mix of middle aged men, recently graduated students, and travelers in their twenties. Nearly everyone was traveling alone, except for two Italian brothers and a South African family – the son, a 19 year old who worked as a software developer in China instead of going to university had surprised his parents the day before the trip by taking them to the info session and saying “guess where we’re going!” While some people were actually interested in the area, most were just looking for adventure, something wild to tell their friends back home.

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The hotel was lavish, all the workers being women in matching beautiful traditional colorful dresses. Our dinner looked like it belonged at a wedding reception, with flashing party lights hooked up to the ceiling (genuinely thought I was going to have a seizure) hanging over the ballroom with oil paintings of North Korea fully covering each wall. The women presented us with free flowing beer and course after course of delicious food; I felt as if we were receiving more food than was available in the entire country. My table broke into laughter after few seconds, joking about codenames for the countries we were discussed (South Korea = K, North Korea = KK, USA = KKK, and Japan = Sushi), asking the waitress if she had a tinder (she didn’t respond), if she would sing for us (she did not), and general jokes about all our different homes and accents and cultures.

Eventually we broke off into our individual rooms, decked out with full sized refrigerators, heated beds, and luckily, no propaganda posters.

I Got Scammed! // 5 Things to Know When Visiting China by Safia Southey

I'm writing this because I came to Beijing dramatically unprepared, and I don't want anyone to follow in my footsteps!

1) Download several VPNs  

Simple, right? Not so! I downloaded a VPN but it's actually blocked now that I'm in the country, and it seems to be that way for most VPNs available. I would try to find an alternative solution, but sadly Google is blocked here making it a little difficult to find anything that isn't easily accessible on Bing. Other things that are blocked? No facebook, instagram, twitter, gmail (I have over 20 missed emails and whoever knows me knows me will know how much anxiety that brings me) and worst of all - Google Maps.

2) Carry a map

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I often joke about how I don't understand how people could travel without Google Maps and that I would be clueless without it, and it turns out I was right! I got completely lost on my way home, desperately searching for anybody who could point me in the right direction. Sadly, the only address I had was in English, leading to laughs instead of assistance, leading me to my next point...

3) You're not going to fit in - and that's fine

This has been one of the strangest places as a tourist in my experience. Having been stopped over 5 times today to take selfies with random locals, I've also been laughed at numerous times for my shoddy use of chopsticks, attempt to pronounce Chinese words, and at my assumption that people might speak English. Fun fact: nobody speaks English - not police officers, shop workers, or restaurant owners - trust me, I spent half an hour trying to order food using a translator on my phone (not Google translate, sadly, because of course that's blocked). Don't get me wrong, I'm not expecting everyone to speak English wherever I go, it's just something to keep in mind when traveling over here. 

4) Don't get scammed...

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So these really nice ladies stopped me in the subway station because they wanted to practice their English; how nice! They walked me around Tiananmen Square, and then we went for tea and talked about school and their jobs and lives and such, they gave me lots of compliments, it was really nice. At the end, they made me pay for like half of it? Which was fair, but a little annoying because I'm a poor college student and tea is more expensive than food here. Then we parted ways, but when I got back to my hostel I see:

"Beware Tea Selling Scam
You may be approached by girls asking you to come and teas for free or pay separately. However at the end they will try and make you pay!"

I got scammed! For tea! Horrendous! Other scams include art students making you buy overly priced gifts, absurdly expensive fake tour guides, men getting you to pay for karaoke, and general pickpockets. Keep aware! 

5) Know what's going on in your area!

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Familiarize yourself with the local transport, the food, the events and shows and concerts and whatnot. And explore, get lost! I got on a random subway, found the major monuments, and luckily happened to stumble upon a big military parade and flag show. Would have been better if I actually did research, but still an amazing experience! Put yourself out there, see the Great Wall and the Forbidden City especially, talk to locals and find the cool spots that you may not know as just a random tourist. I especially enjoyed the Dongsi Subdistrict, lots of cool restaurants and shops. 

Overall, Beijing is a beautiful city full of culture, history, and delicious food. While difficult to navigate at times, a visit is completely worth it. The night life is bright and fun, and the streets are constantly bustling and alive. There are fun markets and each neighborhood has its own individual attitude, reminding me of New York in a lot of ways. It's big, and can feel lonely at times, but I look forward to coming back and spending a more solid amount of time in this thriving city. 

 

Unexpected Adventure into Myanmar by Safia Southey

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I didn't know what to expect when I scheduled a week in Myanmar before heading off to China; I assumed I would spend the entire time in Yangon wandering through the streets as I usually do. However, after my first day there walking 15+ miles and visiting nearly every sight I could fathom, I realized that I would not be able to spend a week there. So instead of staying in the city, I immediately latched on to a fellow traveler, took an overnight bus to Bagan, and went exploring. There, I spent my days whizzing around on motorbikes through sandy roads filled with thousands of temples, playing with displaced monk children, eating Shan noodles, climbing trees and ancient shrines, speaking to locals about the humanitarian crisis there, getting food poisoning from Thai food, falling lots, and drinking local Myanmar beer with the other backpackers at my hostel in the evening. As my friend from home described it, it sounded like "peak Safia." 

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I was supposed to fly to Beijing on the 31st, but ended up extending my time in Myanmar after realizing how beautiful it was and how much I would be missing out on if I left so soon. I took another overnight bus to Inle Lake, where villages and temples are built on stilts on the water. The people transport solely by boat, thriving off fishing and tourism. We were able to see the Long Neck Tribe, watch silver being made and silk being woven and banana cigarettes being stuffed with tobacco by elderly women laughing away to each other. Rain crashed down on our little boat, while soaked my clothes but made it even more of an adventure. After our boat journey, we took bikes out to a little vineyard for a wine-tasting ($5!) and a hike up to the forest monastery in a remote village miles away from Western-esque anything. I celebrated New Years at some ex-pat bar, filled with drunk tourists blasting music and dancing in the middle of this country where so much of the world is currently looking at.

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Eventually I had to complete my journey and fly off to Hong Kong, after being placed on bus after bus after bus in the dead of night. Despite being stranded at unofficial bus stop in the rain at 1am with no internet or knowledge of the local language, I never had a single feeling of fear or danger; one of my favorite things about Myanmar is how friendly the people are. During my entire trip, I did not encounter a single person who would not smile back at me, or offer me whatever hospitality they could. The country, even the most touristy spots, are incredibly raw and real. Also, everything is incredibly cheap - make sure not to avoid the local spots on the side of the road, because from my experience they are not only the least expensive, but the most delicious and comes with the best service (I feel like I got a new mom).

Even though I extended my trip, there is no doubt that I want to return to Myanmar and visit everywhere I couldn't my first time around. I often find myself conflicted on my travels, not wanting to just be another clueless tourist, especially in a place as controversial as Myanmar. However, by knowing the history and making an effort to give back to the local community through tourism or just getting the resident perspectives on issues where the conversation is usually dominated by the West makes a big difference. Therefore, I will be soon releasing an interview I did with a local from Bagan on the Rakhine Muslims, also known as the Rohingya. The people I met (both locals and fellow travelers), the amazing sights, the beautiful Buddhist traditions that I learned about, all made it one of the most fantastic trips of my life. The fact that it was my first time truly backpacking alone was terrifying at first, but now I'm incredibly grateful for the experience.

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