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A North Korean shopkeeper in Pyongyang. The North Korean capital is more affluent than other parts of the country, but what’s it like to live there?
A shop in North Korean shopkeeper in Pyongyang. The North Korean capital is more affluent than other parts of the country, but what’s it like to live there? Photograph: Jonas Gratzer/LightRocket via Getty Images
A shop in North Korean shopkeeper in Pyongyang. The North Korean capital is more affluent than other parts of the country, but what’s it like to live there? Photograph: Jonas Gratzer/LightRocket via Getty Images

Ping pong, beach trips and intermittent Wi-Fi: life in privileged Pyongyang

This article is more than 8 years old

From the thrill of the Arirang Mass Games to the monotony of the daily commute, NK News has collected rare insights from residents of North Korea’s capital

University lecturer who has lived in the city intermittently since 2012

If I had to pick one thing that stood out about Pyongyang, it would be the Arirang Mass Games, an extraordinary showpiece. Because I have lived in the city you may have been expecting a different answer, but daily life is actually quite boring.

Pyongyang never felt like a city, more like a large rural town with some very impressive buildings scattered throughout. My daily routine was no different to anywhere else I have lived, apart from the fact I wasn’t able to walk down to the local shop to buy a snack or the daily newspaper.

The main difference between my lifestyle and [that of] the locals was the access I had to the internet 24/7 – although not always access to electricity. But I tried to limit my time in front of a screen and embrace the simple lifestyle that Pyongyang offered. The sunrises and sunsets were always amazing.

If there was one thing I could remove it would be all the propaganda across the city. At the moment this is an unrealistic dream, but I believe it will happen one day.

North Koreans perform during the Arirang mass games at the May Day stadium in 2007. Photograph: Reinhard Krause/Reuters

Imagine rewinding the clock back to 1980, when cellphones didn’t exist and people spoke to their neighbours and friends on a daily basis. This is what Pyongyang life feels like to me. It cannot be compared to anywhere else in the world.

Ji Min-kang, a defector who left Pyongyang in 2005

North Korean defector Ji Min-kang Photograph: Ji Min-kang

My dad was an author and had a wide range of books off limits to most North Koreans. I spent most of my time reading at home. I remember telling my friends the story of the Chronicles of Narnia – they seemed pretty impressed. While reading books I could forget about my reality, where there was no freedom.

There was not a single thing you could change about life in Pyongyang. You had to work or study at the workplace or school you were assigned to by the government. The rules could not be broken.

South Korean culture started to spread in the late 1990s: houses started to get hi-tech appliances from Japan and we’d listen to South Korean radio and watch TV programmes. The government tried to stop people but it didn’t work. DVDs imported from China played a large part in distributing the culture too. We’d pay a lot of money for them.

You could become very popular by playing South Korean songs on your guitar – classmates who didn’t know me very well would invite me to their birthday parties.

Citizens living in the city have more chances to meet foreigners than other North Koreans, but since these foreigners are always accompanied by interpreters and guides, they cannot talk freely about the reality of their society or the outside world. I don’t believe their presence makes much difference.

Alessandro Ford, the first western student to study at Kim Il-sung University, from August – December 2014

Alessandro Ford
Ford points to Kim Il-sung University, where he was the first western student to study. Photograph: Alessandro Ford

One of the first things explained to me was that you paid respect to the great leaders by bowing to their statues every day. My fellow students escorted me to class for the first few weeks and I soon learned the routine: we would mess around until we reached the university entrance, at which point smirks would be wiped off, ties yanked straight and backs straightened.

On the second day of lessons I decided to risk asking a question: what happens if people don’t bow? One of my friends looked back at me, puzzled: “Why wouldn’t you?... He’s the great fucking leader.”

Walking around Pyongyang is like playing Pac-Man: you go down odd streets, up long boulevards, but you can never go where you want, no matter how hard you try. The response from my North Korean minders was always the same: “No, let’s not go that way, it’s not … um … pretty”.

A typical day at university would be as follows: we would return from our lessons for lunch; do homework for three to five hours; play football, then bathe – making sure to spend a long time in the dormitory sauna!

After dinner it was ping pong time, a North Korean passion, before heading to someone’s room to drink beer with dried fish or squid (equivalent to beer and peanuts) and take turns at karaoke. Weekends were spent at the bowling alley, messing about in the swimming pool and back in the sauna.

North Korean students ride down a water slide into a swimming pool at Kim Il-Sung University in Pyongyang on 11 April, 2012. Photograph: Pedro Ugarte/AFP/Getty Images

The locals tended to spend their time drinking, smoking, playing board games like chess or “Paduk” (the Korean equivalent of “Go”). People work hard during the day so evenings are spent at home with family.

Pyongyang could be a truly beautiful city at times: when the heat was dampened by a cool breeze and you walked in the shade watching people go about their daily lives, you could reach a place of temporary peace. A peace always interrupted by pleas from my North Korean friends to head back to the confines of the university.

Jim Hoare, former British ambassador to North Korea, resident from 2001 to 2002

I was working in east Asia, nearing the end of my career, when the UK established diplomatic relations with the DPRK. I never expected I would be the one to set up our first mission.

Jim Hoare, the first British ambassador to North Korea Photograph: Jim Hoare

We mostly lived in uncomfortable hotels – especially as winter hit – and worked on what felt like a permanent building site.

For most North Koreans, even in the capital, life was more like Europe in the 1940s or 1950s than the early noughties. Working hours – or at least attendance – were long and for many included Saturdays. Commutes were crowded and tedious, electricity was intermittent and TV was dire. The winters were (and are) savage but people enjoy themselves too, with all ages coming out to ice skate.

We ate out a lot, went to musical performances, and Friday nights at the Random Access Club [a bar for foreigners] were always well attended. We had access to a car and were allowed to drive in the greater Pyongyang and Nampo areas, where picnics were a big feature.

Sometimes I socialised with my Korean staff – we’d go to the seaside or bowling. Once my wife and I even got them to come to our flat. A couple of them were very nervous because they assumed it was against the rules.

The senior interpreter would occasionally drink with me and had been taught the phrase “I could murder a pint”.

Like any diplomatic post, our time was spent engaging with representatives from the DPRK government and other diplomats, and sometimes we’d go to functions. It was a mixture of work and limited pleasure.

In 2001, there was an atmosphere of hope lingering from the agreed framework [which put a freeze on the construction of North Korean weapons] and the Sunshine Policy [a thaw in relations with South Korea]. Global diplomacy would later change, but for a brief moment we were part of history.

I would have stayed for longer but we retired at 60 then, without a choice.

European diplomat 1, left in 2015

We usually stayed in at the weekend, watching TV, reading or working, as we were not allowed to travel – although walking in the woods and driving to Nampo beach or Wonsan were permitted.

We did not get that much insight into the lives of local families but I saw local boys playing football and students playing volleyball. However, most North Korean adults do not have the luxury of free time. People work from Monday to Saturday and spend Saturday afternoons at political meetings, demonstrations or “self-criticism” sessions.

A farmer carries a fully grown cabbage used to make Kimchi, at the Chilgol vegetable farm on the outskirts of Pyongyang, North Korea. Photograph: Wong Maye-E/AP

Women carry the heaviest burden. I used to see groups of them removing the ice from the roads by hand or sweeping the roads for hours and hours in the heat while the men stood by overseeing and smoking. Another common sight was huge groups of people obliged to spend the day doing pointless work.

Communist bloc societies were markedly more egalitarian than North Korea. There are deep, visible (hardly believable) social differences between the poor masses and members of the elite. This is not being stressed enough by the international community.

I’m not sure it’s possible for foreign diplomats to change the smallest thing in North Korea: we were just placated by officials carrying out orders set out by Kim Il-sung, developed by Kim Jong-il and continued by Kim Jong-un. The country runs like an automaton: everybody knows their roles, their possibilities and limitations.

European diplomat 2, also left in 2015

Many things are needed to improve daily life in Pyongyang. Foreigners should be allowed to shop in every shop, eat in every restaurant and mingle in public spaces.

Then there are the minor hassles: Wi-Fi nowhere; overly eager traffic police; the roads are constantly blocked for propaganda events; and you cannot rely on a constant supply of very basic things such as milk.

North Koreans march through Kim II-sung Square during an assembly to commemorate the 64th anniversary of Korean War in Pyongyang, North Korea. Photograph: Xinhua /Landov / Barcroft Media

Like the North Koreans, I spent my spare time sleeping, exercising and drinking lots of alcohol with colleagues and friends. The Kumrung fitness centre was quite nice for a round of squash, but there is not a single leisure facility I will miss.

Frank and open exchanges with North Koreans were the most positive memories from my time in Pyongyang. It took a long time to build up trust, but eventually some shared their concerns and opinions with me.

On the negative side were the scenes of suppression and daily propaganda that made you feel like you were living in a time capsule. Pyongyang made me appreciate what I took for granted in life and re-evaluate my priorities.

I think diplomats can make a difference to the lives of North Koreans: every smile, every little interaction is a little crack in the DPRK’s propaganda – but the impact is limited to Pyongyang where foreign visitors are based.

Jaka Parker, an Indonesian photographer currently living in Pyongyang

I have lived in Pyongyang with my wife and children since November 2012, and on our days off we’ll walk around the city or go to the park downtown. The playground has swings and slides enjoyed by lots of North Korean children. We usually try to talk to their parents.

On Saturday nights we usually go to a 24-hour cafe called Hemaji, meaning Sunrise. We arrive around 9pm and often stay until 4am. On weekdays, when I have spare time, I travel around on my own looking for good photo opportunities.

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People think that North Koreans have a radically different life, but their daily activities are often the same. They go to work; they go to school; many keeps pets. I have met lots of people who are interested in photography and many are happy to have pictures taken with foreign visitors. Selfies are popular too.

A few years ago I got lost trying to find the tomb of Tan’gun: the first ever king of Korea. I found myself on a muddy road surrounded by farms and no GPS, so decided to call it a day. On the way back to Pyongyang I had to pass through a regional checkpoint where the soldiers eyed me suspiciously and asked lot of questions in Korean I couldn’t understand.

The entire contents of my car were inspected and I was photographed. I was scared, confused and worried about getting arrested. Eventually they let me go but a few hundreds metres down the road two soldiers stopped me, gesticulating that they needed to get into my car.

I was afraid, but let them come with me. They said nothing on the drive back but when they started to point out directions I realised that everything would be OK. When we arrived back in Pyongyang they got out and saluted me.

From that day I vowed to learn Korean so I wouldn’t be scared to get lost.

If were to change one thing about life in Pyongyang, it would be to allow citizens to interact and communicate with foreigners with ease. I’d also really like to introduce North Koreans to the world outside.

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A version of this article first appeared at NK News - North Korea news

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