saturday welcome to pyongyang

THE STRAITS TIMES SATURDAY, DECEMBER 24 2011 PAGE C8

At Pyongyangs souvenir shops (above), items range from knick-knacks to books by both Kims. The Walhyang Exhibition Hall (below) is one of the few shops in the city that serve both locals and tourists, but on separate floors. PHOTOS: WONG KANG WEI

SHOPPING MALLS AN ALIEN CONCEPT

State-owned shops are drab and sparsely stocked as competition is alien
BY LIM YI HAN
THE shops are drab, sporting no advertisements or attractive window displays. Shopping Pyongyang-style is certainly not for fashionistas. There is little to indicate what each store sells, except for a sign that depicts the items and services on offer. The vegetable stall proudly displays the image of a cabbage. Most of these state-owned shops are on the first level of apartment buildings. It is no surprise that they are unattractive and dull as the concept of commercial competition is completely alien here. North Koreans receive coupons about eight times a year to buy necessities ranging from clothes to shoes to food. We are told there are only three department stores and one supermarket in the city, and shopping malls are non-existent. As night falls, the shops are illuminated by white fluorescent lights. Some even operate in the flickering light of candles. State-owned shops are out of bounds to tourists, who must spend their cash in souvenir shops where North Korean memorabilia such as postcards, badges, stamps, national flags, ginseng products and knick-knacks can be found. Books are mostly sold at the Pyongyang Cultural Exhibition near the Monument to the Party Foundation. These offerings consist largely of propaganda material in a number of languages, including French and Russian. Still, there are hidden gems to be found, such as a collection of childrens books on local folk tales, as well as a beautifully photographed Korean cookbook. One of the biggest souvenir shops is at the Walhyang Exhibition Hall, across the road from the citys Arch of Triumph. The first level, for locals, stands in stark contrast to the second, which caters to tourists. The former sells a variety of items ranging from bicycles and spectacles to household products and food. It is dingy, and everything is displayed in haphazard fashion, with utensils next to toiletries. Upstairs, the area is spacious and bright, and items are arranged neatly. Foreigners can shop here, but must pay in euros, yuan or US dollars.

Guilt and satiation in equal portions

BY KENNETH GOH
IT IS easy to have mixed feelings of guilt and satisfaction at the dining table in Pyongyang. As visitors, we were treated to scrumptious spreads, with lunches and dinners each consisting of appetisers, main courses and sometimes even dessert. But there is no escaping the irony that six million people in this country needed food aid, according to the World Food Programme in March. Our dining itinerary consisted of trips to Korean, Japanese and Italian restaurants, and even a steamboat meal on a boat on the Taedong River. Most of these eateries are exclusive to the citys elite. Very often, we would be the only customers in the restaurants. The restaurants were hardly packed, save for pockets of families and a couple of military-looking folk. Each meal started with appetisers, plates of kimchi and drinks. There were often three different cups on the table for beer, soju a type of Korean hard liquor and roasted barley tea. The concept of starters in North Korea took a bit of getting used to. Instead of teasing the palate, they fill the stomach.

Often, the merrymaking was interrupted by power cuts, which plunged the restaurant into darkness.
The blackouts were a stark reminder of how the country was struggling even with basic needs like power supply.

Bibimbap, served with a small bowl of stock that is added just before eating (left), goes down a treat served with light beer. PHOTOS: WONG KANG WEI
Think typical dishes served in Chinese restaurants fried fish slices, stir-fried pork, and braised chicken with mushrooms. Cold dishes included mung bean jelly strips served with minced meat and seaweed, and jellyfish salad. There were some slightly more exotic items such as pickled tripe, and chicken stuffed with some sort of mystery meat. Our meals were long-drawn affairs, stretching up to two hours. Waitresses usually streamed in with the menu for main courses only in the second hour. These were mostly barbecued meats, soups and rice-based dishes, similar to those found on South Korean menus. The mood around the dining table was usually light-hearted, thanks to a generous supply of beer and soju. Toasting sessions, with shouts of chuk bae (cheers in Korean), were common. Mealtime entertainment would involve propaganda videos being played on TV sets. However, at one restaurant, we had the waitresses playing the piano and singing. Often, the merrymaking was interrupted by power cuts, which plunged the restaurant into darkness. The blackouts were a stark reminder of how the country was struggling even with basic needs like power supply. Aware of my dining privileges, and to lessen my feelings of guilt, I made an effort not to leave behind scraps of food. Yet at the same time, it is impolite in Korean culture not to have any leftovers it meant that your host had not fed you sufficiently. The decor was sometimes a talking point. The National Restaurant, for instance, boasts lush canopies of artificial vegetation, with bushes of plastic leaves, roses and grapes sprawled across the walls and ceiling. Yet as we wined and dined, I often could not help but wonder what an ordinary North Korean was having for dinner.