The ‘incidente’ between La Boca players and River Plate fans

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Football and the ‘incidente’ of Saturday 24th November 2018

Although I knew that football was big in Argentina (with a fervour that makes European teams’ supporters appear like casual watchers) I didn’t think that I would be writing about the topic within 36 hours of arriving in the country.

The background, as even non-football supporters will probably know about by now due to what happened yesterday, is that two Buenos Aires based teams, River Plate and Boca Juniors, were due to play the second leg of the Copa Libertadores Final in the home stadium, El Monumental, of the River Plate team. With such an intense rivalry between the two teams it had been agreed, a long time in advance, that away supporters would be banned from the game.

I knew nothing of this and the first time I was aware of any match being played at all, not taking into account a major cup final, was when I was walking in the central area of the city and saw (and heard) Boca supporters driving around the streets in buses, cars and on motorbikes, tooting on horns and waving flags and shouting the name of La Boca before heading to some bar to watch the match on TV.

The little bar I went to, situated in the same building complex as the Ministry of the Interior, had the TV on, and was expecting people in later to watch the match. I decided that if matters got too intense I’d move out. However, although it took some time for me to realise it, what was drawing the attention of the bar’s clients wasn’t the match itself but the ‘incidente’ that had occurred as the Boca Juniors team bus arrived at the El Monumental stadium and how that panned out over the course of the next few hours or so (and unbeknownst to all of us at the time, for an indefinite time in the future).

The following ‘report’ will be from the view of the locals (or at least my interpretation of that view) who saw matters, I think, slightly different from the way it might have been presented to Europeans by the likes of the sanitised version I read from the BBC on the Sunday morning.

The ‘facts’ are that the bus, bringing the Boca Juniors team and officials (only from the other side of town) was attacked by the River Plate ‘hinchas’ (obsessed fans) and stones and bottles thrown and that the Prefectura (the national naval police) decided to spray the River Plate fans with tear gas. But as with all ‘facts’ that statement might be open to interpretation.

Now, as we all know, especially in Europe as the anniversary of the end of the 1914-1919 World War has just been ‘celebrated’, that the use of any gas against people is a very tricky and fraught exercise. You can’t control who it effects, sometimes the target, sometimes yourself and sometimes the ‘innocent’. And in this case the ‘innocent’ were the Boca Juniors players and officials.

Now I’m not going to comment on the rivalry between different football teams’ fans. Sociologists worldwide, I’m sure, have tried to understand how such rivalry often leads to extreme situations. The various states and the worldwide media have a lot to do with it. Keep people fighting amongst themselves over who wins a game of kicking a ball around for an hour and a half and they might not fight back against capitalism (which also makes a fortune out of the fans support in ticket sales, merchandising and TV rights) and the shit conditions into which it forces huge sections of the population, in many countries and on a regular, cyclical basis. This is the modern day equivalent of the ‘bread and games’ tactics of the Roman Emperors. However, present day capitalism is more ‘developed’ in keeping its populations docile and less of a threat to its existence. They make the population pay through the nose for the distractions which make them forget their miserable existence.

When it comes to the ‘incidente’ of 24th November 2018 there are other questions that need to be asked yet almost certainly won’t be answered. The state creates the situation where there’s a likelihood of an explosion but then walks away and blames the people it has created.

What was interesting for me, in a tiny out of the way bar, which, I thought at the time was filled with Boca Junior supporters (bars in Hispanic countries, from my experience, are openly and clearly partisan when it comes to football but I learnt the situation in Argentina seems to be more relaxed) was that what the customers were saying was not against the supporters of River Plate who were throwing stones and bottles but was more against the police and the organisers in general who were displaying a total lack of organisation to allow such a situation to arise in the first place.

So to the questions being asked:

Why was the bus taken on a route and at a time when it was obvious it would have to pass River Plate ‘hinchas’, many of whom wouldn’t have been able to get a ticket?

Why, when there was a situation where tensions would get high, was there not a more obvious police presence so that matters could have been kept under control before getting totally out of hand. (Here I must state that I’m not a lover of any state’s police forces but even under capitalist rules they are there to do a job. When they fall down on that job they should be held to account.)

Why did they send a bus which could have its windows broken, even those on the top deck, by someone just throwing a stone from street level? I thought windscreens and modern day vehicle windows were of toughened, shatter-proof glass yet the windows seemed to have been broken easily. (I’ve seen films where even an angry giant armed with a sledge hammer has barely made a dent in the glass.)

Added to that the bus was moving quite fast at the time. If the persons (as there must have been at least 4 or 5 broken windows on both levels of the double decker bus) who threw the stones that were so effective in breaking the windows of the bus are ever found they should be trained in some sort of throwing sport as they must have produced Olympic world record breaking examples of strength to have achieved what they did.

Why did officers of the Prefectura, the Naval police (if I understand it correctly) just fire a random burst of tear gas from a moving van at the River Plate supporters in the vicinity of the attack? They seemed to have disappeared from the scene as I wasn’t aware of them appearing on the TV screen in the couple of hours I was following the unfolding of the events. In fact the first, and only time, I have seen this burst of tear gas come from a speeding vehicle was when I had the opportunity to see the video posted on the BBC website on the Sunday morning. And this is after watching the same scenes from the attack and its consequences being repeated ad nauseum on the couple of channels that were flicked through in the bar. Surely, this might be something that conspiracy theorists should be looking into?

It was the effects of this gas that was being highlighted in the early reports from the Boca Juniors dressing room in the El Monumental stadium. Pictures of the team and the officials arriving had them looking dizzy and some of them trying not to vomit – classic effects of a tear gas attack. It wasn’t till much later that reports of actual physical injury caused by flying glass started to appear on the screen. At the same time the importance of the tear gas and the effects it was having on the players was what has been played down in the reports I’ve seen on the BBC English news website.

As the afternoon drew on it was obvious that images were being sent into the news stations by members of the public who were at the scene of the attack and the confrontation between ‘los hinchas’ and the police.

For a short time there was the definite chance that a major confrontation was about to develop between the River Plate fans and the police. A small contingent of police in riot gear were the target of stone throwers and they seemed to be more interested in protecting themselves than confronting the opposition And this made sense, at least at the beginning.

The live images on the TV were taken from a high vantage point and here it was clear that there couldn’t have been more than about 30 or so police all geared up in their protective clothing. However, as the afternoon wore on images started to come through from either videos produced on Smartphones or from film crews sent in to cover the action. There the same story, told from the side of the stone throwers told a very different story.

The early images showed police doing the minimum, the later images seemed to present them in a much more threatening and aggressive manner. Who said the ‘camera never lies’? When we all should know that the camera never tells the truth.

And whilst these images were being shown on the screen it was the authorities who were being criticised by the people in the bar. Too few police, no preparation for such a major and emotional event, inadequate response to a situation that could go in any direction. If the situation didn’t get totally out of hand then it was due, to my mind, to the fact that the River Plate fans didn’t want it to. Pictures showed some of them passing through police lines and out of the ‘front line’.

One image, that appeared for only a short time was of a crew of 4 or 5 police officers, this time not in full riot gear, get out of a vehicle and point what looked like tear gas guns at the crowd. I don’t think any were fired and the police were only out of their vehicle for a short time so don’t know if someone told them to clear out. Firing more tear gas would have almost certainly have escalated the situation.

Now a look at the response from the football authorities themselves. If the police and government authorities didn’t have a clue what they were doing those in charge of Argentinian and world football were even more in disarray.

Their aim, as it soon became evident, was that the show must go on – at any cost. Not to the players, not to the spectators in the stadium, not to the those watching at home (whether that be in Buenos Aires or anywhere else in the world). No the show must go on because of TV rights – which we all know is what is most important in world football today.

This didn’t appear on the screen that I could see, amongst a number of quotes from those officials that were flashed up from time to time. However, this crucial matter was mentioned in a quote from the BBC report of the following morning where the Boca Juniors President is quoted as saying that making a decision on what to do was effected by ‘the television rights have been sold to a ton of countries.’

With that as their priority there was a refusal on the part of the football ‘authorities’ to accept that in no way was the game going to take place. Instead of looking at a way to force play (when it became increasingly obvious that there were injuries, if only temporary, to a number of the Boca players and that they wouldn’t have realistically been ‘match fit’, when statements were coming out from both the teams that they didn’t want to play, and even a casual observer such as myself could see it wouldn’t work on a whole lot of levels) those in charge of football should have been looking at how to get 60,000 people out of the stadium with the least danger to all concerned.

Reports that appeared the next day from those inside the stadium indicate that there was no sharing of information with that crowd of 60,000 people. That’s bad enough when they had been there in the hot sun (the temperatures in Buenos Aires that afternoon were in the mid 20s Celsius) for hours but in the age of social media what wasn’t been told directly to those fans was being drip fed to them from friends and family on the outside. It’s a good job there were no Boca fans in the stadium as in such a situation the whole affair would have turned into a massacre. (When I was looking at the TV screen I wondered why the pictures of the crowd only showed the red and white of the River Plate fans (as opposed to the blue and yellow of Boca) – that was whewn I didn’t know about the ban on away fans. Isn’t that a disgraceful comment in its own right on the state of world football?

I can’t imagine the situation in the stadium itself. The fans there stadium were effectively locked in. Those fans who had arrived after the ‘incidente’ with tickets were effectively locked out. And everyone was being kept in the dark as the question of the least expensive solution (to the football authorities and fat cats who cream millions off the ordinary fans) was being considered.

What started out as a gross miscalculation was starting to turn into a potential disaster. The fact that it didn’t was more due to luck than design.

Using my vox poular approach the whole process indicated that Argentina was ‘a shit country’, if such a situation had developed at the Casa Rosada ‘it wouldn’t have happened and ‘it’s impossible’. (I’ll come back to this approach to the Casa Rosada later on as on the only occasion I’ve been there I saw anti-demonstrator barriers which are on permanent standby.)

And to show how the relationship between the governing body had broken down the Boca management refused entry of Conmebol to their dressing room, reported on the TV screen at 18.20.

For the next few hours nothing was definitively agreed.

So we arrive at Sunday morning.

Basically nothing had been learnt from the events of the Saturday as sometime in the late morning it was decided that the match would go ahead at 17.00 on Sunday the 25th. Doubts began to be expressed on the TV, almost immediately, that this was still pushing it and with representations from the Boca Juniors club, who were producing a report to present to Conmebol, with them claiming they would have been at a disadvantage if the game was to be played so soon after the tear gassing and, we have to accept, not a little bit of shock when some of the team must have thought they were going to die, the game was again cancelled – this time with no alternative date being suggested.

As of now (the evening of Sunday 25th November 2018) there will be a meeting of Conmebol on Tuesday 27th November 2018 in Asunción, Uruguay. I don’t know if it was just a joke but one of the headlines stated that the second part of the final would take place in Abu Dhubai.

What also appeared on the TV screen on the Sunday afternoon were images of small confrontations between riot police and River Plate supporters. As is always the case in such situations the low deployment of police when it could have possibly prevented the ‘incidente’ is followed by an overwhelming police presence, under the pretext that this is to prevent matters getting out of hand.

But what is not being taken into account is the fact that there are a lot of fans, on both sides, who are pissed off with what happened yesterday, it’s a Sunday and so even those ‘lucky’ enough to have jobs may not be working, it’s still hot out there (mid to high 20s Celcius – the same as yesterday), the beer is flowing so it would only take a small spark to set things off.

If that happens I will write again about football. If it doesn’t then I will never write about football again in my life.

To sign off, do people remember the war that was ’caused’ by a football match? This was what came to be known as The Football War (La guerra del fútbol) and which lasted a 100 hours. This brief war was fought between El Salvador and Honduras in 1969. Existing tensions between the two countries coincided with rioting during a 1970 FIFA World Cup qualifier and things got out of hand.

So Shankley might have been right when he said that football is more important than life or death.

As a ps (which addressers the idea of who controls football and the whole idea of sponsorship) both teams have their shirts (the body) sponsored by the Spanish Bank BBVA.

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Arrival and first impressions of Buenos Aires

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Casa Rosada with Argentine flag

Casa Rosada with Argentine flag

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Arrival and first impressions of Buenos Aires

I’m going to try, on this particular trip, to post something everyday. Basically a diary. I’ve planned this before and failed – for reasons which are nothing else than down to some of my many failings. However, this time I’m starting with good intentions.

It might work out the ramblings of a misanthrope but I would like to think, amongst all the bile, there is something that someone, somewhere might find interesting and, above all, useful if they were to follow a similar adventure – because that’s what travelling alone without a fixed itinerary is to all intents and purposes. The next surprise is always around the next corner.

So, to the beginning.

Arrival and first impressions of Buenos Aires

Doing a circuit in the air of three sides of the city before landing and then getting a view of the other side on the bus from the airport to the city centre Buenos Aires might call itself ‘The Paris of Latin America’ in some of its architecture, but the majority created in the last 120 years or so doesn’t have much to write home about.

From the air it looked like some giant children had been given an unlimited collection of equally giant Lego bricks and lacking any imagination had just arranged stacks of these, to varying heights, in a grid road system.

Yes there are some impressive European, Baroque influenced buildings but they are mainly concentrated in the older part of the city centre but once away from the ‘famous’ ones, such as the Casa Rosada, they are not treated with a great deal of respect.

Just one example from the bus from the airport was of a typical BA building, with its domes, and slap bang next to it – without any space as far as I could make out – was one of the most uninspiring steel and glass buildings I have ever seen. Surely if there is supposed to be some sort of pride in the city’s architecture it should go for those buildings that might not be in the forefront of any tourist route as well. Such neglect only indicating that the pride some people might take in the city’s architectural past is somewhat shallow.

That’s just from a matter of an hour or so in the place so I can hardly call myself an expert. It will be interesting to see how, or if, that first impression changes.

But first, some possible Useful information for the first time visitor to the city (and country).

Aeropuerto Internacional Ministro Pistarini de Ezeiza (EZE) – Buenos Aires International Airport

When you arrive on a transatlantic jumbo jet – with 350, more or less, passengers – you expect to be there a long time getting through Immigration, especially when there are more flights coming in at the same time. But the immigration and passport control was well staffed, to meet the high demand, both by immigration officials as well as airport staff directing arriving passengers to the different sections to even out the queues. This is the wonder of that webbing and metal stands that often get you walking for mile after needless mile yet here it was being used in the way it was designed.

What is becoming more common, wherever you travel nowadays, is the electronic logging of your data. Not only is the passport put through a reader – which is presumably attached to some data base to which the USA and GCHQ in the UK has access (as well as the other major capitalist states) – but added to that a picture is taken of your face and the print of the right thumb is also recorded. This was the first time I had encountered this level of surveillance but that might just mean haven’t been to the ‘right’ countries in the recent past.

If you want to stay off the radar then air travel is becoming impossible as every detail is being collated and some algorithm is being used to measure your threat to the future of the world, capitalist system. So far land travel has yet to reach such ‘sophistication’ but an article I read about how the ‘capitalist roader’ Chinese authorities are effectively preventing people from travelling by air or fast train (a system which is growing exponentially and will cover most of the country in the not too distant future) means that train travel is also becoming subject to the same sort of checks.

For some time now foot passengers travelling on the likes of the Channel Tunnel (between the UK and France) and the AVE in Spain is more akin to air travel than the relaxed way train travel is advertised – and that’s not taking into account the delays and cancellations that are making rail travel more of a chore than a joy in the recent past – here I’m talking about the UK

But back to the Ezeiza Airport.

Another thing that all passengers were being asked, in my hearing, was the name of the hotel they might be staying in whilst in Buenos Aires. Even if you arrive and have nothing arranged it might be useful to have a name to supply.

I was also quite impressed by the speed with which the luggage arrived on the carousels. Although the main airport of a capital city Ezeiza is nothing in comparison to the likes of Heathrow and Gatwick, even Birmingham airport, the place I started the journey, is probably bigger but getting the people’s luggage to them as quickly as possible is merely a matter of organisation and employing enough people to do the job. In place of efficiency (in the UK) we get excuses and lies but rarely any move to find a solution.

From sitting on the plane at 08.10 to leaving the customs – having gone through all the formalities – took 40 minutes. I don’t think you can fault that.

Getting money

I’m only in the very early stages of understanding the mess of the Argentinian economy but before I had placed foot on Argentinian soil for more than three hours I was starting to learn something of the chaos into which it has fallen.

The only ATM I saw at the airport, and to which I went as soon as officially arriving in the country, was reluctant to supply more than 2000 Argentinian Pesos – that’s little more than £40. I later – in the centre of town – tried to take out larger amounts but only managed to take out 4000 Pesos (£80).

It also charged 231 Pesos (a somewhat bizarre figure) over and above any charges that the card user will have to pay their own bank. This seems to be a fixed charge and is the same irrespective of any amount drawn. So far I have been unable to find out the justification for this charge. This is a cost to Argentinians as well as foreigners.

With the collapse in the value of the Peso since the end of 2017 this seems to be an extra tax on Argentinians – and accounts for why the ATMs are never busy.

But what this has done, not by itself but in conjunction with the collapse in the currency, is the increase in on the street money-changers (cambistas) which is always a sign of an economy in crisis and also a long-term recognised and effective manner of money laundering. A pedestrianised street on which I am stating for my fist few days in the country had both men and women calling out ‘Cambio!’ to all those passing. Queues were also out the door at the ‘official’ exchange shops.

Being a Saturday it will be a couple of days before I can check up the official reason for this tax although I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that no one can give a real reason for it yet will still accept that it comes with the territory

These are the sort of surprises that so-called ‘travel writers’ should be highlighting. They will ‘promote’ the country as a good place to visit due to the fall in the value of the Peso but that’s no good if you have to make up for the lower prices by giving even more to the banks. Taxi drivers and bankers are universally allowed to get away with fleecing us all. The judicious use of the AK47 wouldn’t go amiss for either of those groups of people, worldwide.

Another sign of the crisis in the economy is the number of empty shops along this pedestrianised street, which has some remnants of having its pretensions in the past but even the high-end shops are having a bad time in ‘austerity’ Argentina.

Transport from the airport to Buenos Aires city centre

The quickest way of getting away from an airport to a place you don’t know is obviously by taxi but I’ve gotten sick over the years with having arguments with taxi drivers and the way they think they have an almost God-given right to rob people. This happens even if you ‘agree’ a price beforehand – in circumstances where your luggage is being held hostage in a locked boot. Often the actual value is little, it’s the principle. And these are the sort of parasites on the body politic that Comrade Lenin warned about the ‘petty-bourgeois’ threat to a nascent Socialist society.

However, there is a cheap and efficient way to get into the centre. A bus company called Tienda Leon runs a bus from outside the main exit of the building to their bus station not far from the ocean, just out of the city centre. If you have pesos then there’s an office immediately after clearing customs (where there are also a number of car hire places and a small Information Office) before coming out into the maelstrom which is the mass of people awaiting incoming passengers.

Nobody seemed to mind me going back into an area that should be leaving one way only. At that time I didn’t know that there was a ticket office at the bus stop itself.

The cost of a one way journey is 350 Pesos, departures are every 30 minutes (on the hour and half hour) and takes 45 minutes.

To find the bus stop and ticket office go through the main exit, turn slightly to the right, cross the first section of a zebra crossing and the office is a small white kiosk on the right.

There’s even an element of security for luggage as you are given a ticket for each piece place in the luggage compartment (in the same way you get when flying) and you have to show that before being able to claim your bags at the end of the journey.

From their bus station it’s not too arduous a walk if you have accommodation in the centre of town.

To finish this first post I was going to just mention the fact that I think I have found ‘my’ bar in Buenos Aires. I look for a place that’s not the normal place for a tourist and also has the advantage of having a view of the street – although that view will unlikely appear in tourist publicity. And also within staggering distance from where I’m staying.

To give a view of my level of entertainment this little bar (whose name I forget to memorise after leaving but which I hope to rectify soon) charges 80 pesos (about £1.70) for a litre of 4.6 lager beer – the name was Isenbeck (I assume German, Nazi influence here), an Argentinian local beer.

However, events in the local football world took over – and that will form the basis for my blog tomorrow.

I’m also less than impressed with the hostel I’m staying in (especially after the expereince at the end of last year in Moscow and Leningrad) but, that too, will have to wait till another day.

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Pyongyang to Moscow by train – with comments and observations along the way – Part 3

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Train on the east coast of the DPRK

Train on the east coast of the DPRK

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No longer alone

Although there were people getting on at the various stations not many were coming into the carriage at the end of the train – and I don’t think it was ever full at any time during the journey. It was probably about two to three hours into the journey before a couple of men came along the corridor (some time after the most recent station stop) and joined me in the compartment that housed berths 5 – 8. We soon realised that we had no common language with which we could communicate but that didn’t really become a problem.

Being by myself for the first part of the morning I wasn’t really as much aware of the general protocol of travelling in the sleeper carriage of the train. The majority of the passengers were male (in the whole 33 hours of the journey no more than a couple of female passenger in the carriage – not so in the rest of the train) and as soon as they had settled down, having found their berth and stowed any luggage the first task was to strip off the outdoor clothes.

I learnt on this journey that the majority of men in the DPRK seem to wear one-piece thermal underwear (that used to be called ‘long-johns’ but as they have come into fashion again in the west recently – for all, men, women and children – they are now known as ‘onesies’) and many of them would spend the journey dressed like that, even when it came to getting off the train at some of the longer stops. Others, perhaps with a different attitude to modesty, would take off their street wear and spend the journey in a track suit. Many of the men were dressed in suits and this was to keep these in a good condition but as well it was just mirroring what they would do at home. It might be moving across country but these compartments were effectively our home for the duration of the journey. Street shoes were replaced by some sort of slipper or flip-flops – again just as they would at home. This reluctance on behalf of many in Britain to leave the dirt of the streets on the margins of their homes is one of the reasons the British are considered ‘dirty’ in some countries of Europe, especially the further east you go.

Although they didn’t have a lot of luggage but what they did have was a medium-sized, cardboard box which was placed underneath the table by the window. I was to find out what was in that in a matter of a couple of hours.

How to cater for a long journey

When it comes to food planning it is a necessity on this route from Pyongyang to Moscow, especially if you are going straight through and not planning to stop off en route. I could have done better in my planning but was saved by serendipity. If I were to make the journey again I would plan for the worst case scenario as the greatest disaster in such a situation is that you arrive in Moscow with a lot of food which you didn’t need.

One stand-by (although far from providing a memorable gastronomic experience) are dried noodles, these are especially popular for long distance travellers on Chinese trains. It was for this reason that I had initial concerns about the samovar taking a long time to heat up after departing from Pyongyang. Really the only thing that can be said for instant noodles is that they are light in weight and will keep you alive – and at the end of your journey will swear never to touch them again for the rest of your life.

Due to DPRK restrictions on tourist, as it stands at the moment you won’t be able to make this trip unless it’s tagged on to the end of another pre-booked, organised trip. This means your official tour guides will be able to get you to a supermarket to stock up before you get on the train. I had to shop taking into account the longer stretch on to Moscow but I ended up hitting it lucky on that stretch as well (more in a later post) – so my errors were covered over. Obviously, if you make this trip with a group of people you can turn it into a gastronomic extravaganza if you so wish. Travelling alone means that the responsibility falls on yourself but at the same time opportunities open up to a lone traveller that will denied a group.

The more I think about it the more I don’t understand why the food trolley didn’t come to the last carriage. As far as I could tell the door was locked between the sleeper carriage and the rest of the train – but I might have got things wrong there. Before boarding I thought this trolley would have been a useful fall back option. On the other hand there might have been the problem with currency. Chinese Yuan might have been accepted as on the train from Dandong (on entering the country) but I don’t if that would have been the same with Euros. Presenting US Dollars might well, rightfully, have resulted in you being thrown off the train – before it stopped at a station.

Shopping in the DPRK

It seems appropriate here to make a bit of an aside and talk about shopping in the DPRK. Shopping is something I do only when I have to so won’t be talking about what might or might not be good value in the DPRK. Here I want to concentrate on some of the practicalities that any foreign tourist might find useful on a visit to the country. This is even more important as one of the few English language guide books about the DPRK (Bradt’s ‘North Korea’, 3rd edition, published 2016) is so out of touch with present day reality it is even more than useless. The author is more intent on making negative comments (as he does throughout) that he forgets that a guide book is useful only if it provides a visitor with up to date and accurate information. Virtually all his references to shopping are inaccurate. In fact, if he took out his childish ‘political analysis’ the whole book would be half as long and twice as useful.

What is true, which I’ve stated a number of times in previous posts and which many people are aware, is that you don’t have the same freedom to walk into any shop that is the case in most countries. That aside for shopaholics or just the curious it is possible to get an idea of how this works in the country as well as an indication of what ‘s available to buyers. Whether or not every citizen of the DPRK can actually purchase these items or not is totally irrelevant. Shops are full to bursting with all kinds of items many places throughout the world but that doesn’t mean that all citizens of those countries can take advantage of what’s on sale. I don’t know how much a Rolls Royce car might cost but as the saying goes ‘if you need to ask the price you can’t afford it’.

I suppose for a foreign visitor the number of places where they might be able to shop are limited to a small number of categories.

Those places which are a common part of the itinerary and where there will always be a slot in the timetable. One of these is the Stamp Shop – which is just to the left of the main entrance to the Hotel Koryo on Changgwang Street (not far from the main railway station). As the name implies there are a lot of collectors postage stamps here. These are interesting for people other than stamp collectors as since the very beginning postage stamps have told the story of the political situation internationally, commemorating events that might be taking place nationally or internationally (where there’s a DPRK presence) or celebrating an idea, an achievement or individuals within North Korean culture. (Even, bizarrely, a series of commemorative stamps in 1982 for the birth of William Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.) For those interested in DPRK Socialist Realism some of these are miniature art works of the genre.

Also on sale in the Stamp Shop are small, poster reproductions of some of the stamps. My group was told that the ones that depict the US being destroyed by soldiers of the DPRK are especially popular. A paper version of these would cost about the equivalent of £3.00 and one printed on cloth about £10.00. Here both Yuan and Euros are happily accepted.

The other place that is on the itinerary of virtually all tours is a visit to the Foreign Languages Bookshop on Sungri Street, just a block away north from Kim Il Sung Square. This is only a small, one room bookshop but it has a reasonable selection of books that cover the spectrum from the political to the cultural. The most common languages will be Russian, English, French and German, many books (especially picture books and albums) being in two or three languages in the same edition. These will be of various prices and probably more expensive than was normally the case in such bookshops in Socialist countries in the past. Here, again, Yuan and Euros are accepted without any problem.

Sanctions mean that it’s not easy for the country to export its publications and it’s even difficult for foreigners to subscribe to magazines from the DPRK. This probably has had an impact on the prices requested. However, technology has become a sanctions buster here with much historical and contemporary political material (including the monthly magazines ‘Korea Today’ and ‘DPRK Pictorial’ – in various languages) available as a download – in pdf – from Korean Books.

Visitors might want to buy drinks in their hotels at the end of the (what is normally a very long) day. I have no interest in other country’s beers when I’m travelling and stick to whatever is the local brew. In the Koryo Hotel a local made beer, 660ml, cost the equivalent of about £1.20. Stay local with the spirits and the prices are still very low (taking into account these are hotel prices and much more expensive than they would be in a local supermarket). Go pretentious and international and the prices will probably start to get to what you’d pay in any international hotel. Why anyone would do that is beyond me but there’s no accounting for taste.

All the international tourist hotels will also have a small supermarket somewhere in the building. These are rarely very busy and have a selection of both local produce as well as international products – almost certainly from China. Here it is the case that you have to pay via the system of getting a chit of you purchases, paying for them and then returning to the first counter. This, for people who are used to going to a supermarket and then paying for their goods via the self check-out, does seem (and in fact it is) somewhat archaic. But why do people who go to other countries demand that everything is the same there as in their home country? It’s different but once you know the system it’s no more complicated than queuing in any major department store in Europe. Even there things have changed – remember when cash tills were everywhere but now there’s a common queue? Anyhow, my limited experience at the hotel shop was easy enough the staff, knowing that their system might be strange for foreigners, making the process as easy as possible. Why this constant search for tiny inconveniences to make a negative point about a society?

The other shopping opportunity – that might only be normally available to those tourists on some of the longer tours – is a visit to a ‘normal’ department store in the centre of Pyongyang where foreign currency could be exchanged for DPRK won and used to buy whatever was available to the local population. This was a three storey store along one of the main streets of the capital – unfortunately I didn’t get the name or the address, but I’m sure it would be the same one used for tourists each time.

The idea here is that the visitor is allowed to wander around and see what is there and after a pre-arranged time meet up with the guides and then the process of currency exchange and purchase would go from there.

This store was similar to many in any other reasonably well-developed city. On the ground floor food and household goods. The range of food was extensive and prices by European standards were cheap – but then the cost of living in general is much less than in Europe. Most of the goods on sale in this store appeared to be local, DPRK produce. The food hall took up most of the ground floor and the household goods section was relatively small – specialised stores for such goods holding a bigger selection.

The first floor was mainly clothing and other items of personal use. Here there was a requirement to deposit any bags at a counter before going through a turn-stile to enter the sales area at the top of the stairs. I would have no idea of the incidence of shop lifting in the DPRK but I suppose there will always be someone who wants something for nothing. I’m the worst one to ask about what might be on sale but all the (very few) items I inspected looked of reasonable quality. There was nothing I needed but I’m sure that many tourists taken to this shop would buy a small something just to say they handled DPRK currency and that they had something authentically North Korean.

The top floor was dominated by a huge canteen. I was there at lunch time and the place was full and very busy. There seemed to be a wide selection of dishes, some similar to what we had been served in various restaurants at previous meal times and other more esoteric dishes which would be the norm for Koreans but which I really only came across when I was on the train journey from Pyongyang to Rajin – on my way to Moscow. This included a wide selection of sweets and desserts, that section full with children. I would have preferred to have eaten here rather than the fancy restaurant somewhere in the depths of the same building but that was not possible.

I suppose I should have decided to buy something, just to experience the actual process of currency exchange, but there’s nothing to be gained by knowing the process as it would only take place with the involvement of the official guides so the role of the visitor would be to merely pull out the foreign notes. When I met with my two female guides and I said there was nothing I wanted they neither expressed surprise nor suggested that surely there must be something I would want – i.e., there was no pressure to spend foreign currency. This was the case in all the places that we did any shopping, you could spend as much or as little as you wanted and all the guides would do would be to make the transaction as trouble-free and quick as possible – there nearly always being time constraints.

A whistle salute as the train departed

There was an interesting ritual when the train left one of the stations after about 3 hours into the journey (possibly Sudok or Sinsongchon) which didn’t occur anywhere else. As the train started to move out of the station a number of female station staff, all immaculately dressed in dark blue uniforms, blew their whistles as the train moved away. There were quite a few of them as if they were at each of the carriages along the whole length of the train. As my carriage was the last the whistling stopped after we passed and can only surmise it was to make people aware that a train was moving away from the station. I can’t recall this happening anywhere else which makes it all the stranger as I would have thought these procedures would have been standardised throughout the network.

My concerns about food came to nothing and Korean hospitality

Before getting on the train in Pyongyang I had been given a take-away, packed Korean lunch as the meal was considered to be part of my tour package. This sort of multi compartment, plastic container is common in many countries of South-east Asia. They have a time scale of a couple of days outside of refrigeration, there are and six or seven sections in the base with a number of local dishes, a mixture of meat/fish and vegetables, as well as the ubiquitous rice. When I had been handed this I decided that if other food options didn’t present themselves I could have survived on this for the length of the journey, it being easy for me (a relatively small eater) to spread the contents over a couple of meals. However, that didn’t become necessary.

From my experience North Koreans (reinforced by the almost 12 days I spent on trains with citizens of the DPRK) tend to have quite regular habits when it comes to eating, when they have the opportunity to choose when to eat. That’s basically 06.00 for breakfast, 12.00 for lunch and then 18.00 for the evening meal. Obviously it could, and did, slip from time to time but unless something major interfered (such as a longer stop at a station occurring at one of these times if travelling) it would rarely slip more than 30 minutes or so.

Around about 12.30 the question I had asked myself about what was in the cardboard box that my two compartment companions had brought with them was answered. It was their picnic for the duration of the journey. This was not home-made food but different dishes that had been prepared on a commercial basis and which local people would have bought in the stalls, stores or supermarkets before getting on the train.

Obviously there are no take-away places that have become like a virus in most countries, culturally homogenised but dominated by the fast-food that has spawned around the world from the United States. One of the great joys of being in the DPRK was that it was a Coca Cola/McDonalds/KFC/etc., free zone. Not only was the country not poisoned by the food itself, neither was the eye continually assaulted by their garish advertising and promotion. Also the country was free from the pollution of the streets which always comes with these businesses and the attitude of those who eat there of the throw away nature of what they had paid for.

Back to the compartment at lunch time. Slowly, out of the cardboard box came a number of these small, clear, plastic containers. They were talking amongst themselves about what to bring out, deciding how to spread the different dishes over the meals when they were on the train. The small semi-circular table that was fitted beneath the window was soon full of different containers. Also making an appearance was a bottle of a reddish coloured liquid in a bottle that was first used to store iced tea. The bottle was followed by a small stack of shot sized, clear, plastic cups.

Next to appear was a plastic bag which held a number of packs of use once and throw away chopsticks. These are, again, common throughout this part of the world. The chopsticks are made from flimsy wood and are shaped to about a centimetre or two from the end you hold in your hands. When released from their plastic wrapping (plastic is dominating so many aspects of life in the DPRK as well as other parts of the world) you just pull them apart and after the meal throw them away. (For anyone making a long journey by rail it would be useful to have some of these little packs as washing facilities are basic and the disposable sticks are a better option – although that might horrify many environmentalists.)

There had been little communication between us since they had joined the train apart from the nod of the head and a smile at the beginning and I just sat and watched this all play out. I was thinking that I, too, would start on my lunch – such an early start had meant I hadn’t had any breakfast.

The next thing to happen was that one of them handed me a pair of the chopsticks and indicated with his hand that I should help myself to what was on the table. Thinking that I should at least attempt to bring something to the feast I brought out and opened my commercially prepared lunch pack and found space for it on the edge of the table, indicating that – if they wished – that was available for the table.

Food for foreign tourists

This food was unlike any that had been presented at the something like 20 meals in the different restaurants during the first ten days or so of my visit. This was ‘Korean’ food but very different from the ‘Korean’ food that’s presented in the places where tourists go to eat. These restaurants are a mix of KITC (the official Korean Tourist company) owned restaurants or those attached to hotels. In many respects these are the up-market type of restaurants that aren’t in normal use. Those attached to hotels are the sort of places that would be used for large, family celebrations, such as weddings, so are close to a normal restaurant as they would be in any country.

I also feel that, although there’s no total pandering to foreign tastes, many of these places have a ‘westernised’ menu. It takes the fundamental of local cuisine but then twists it slightly to take in influences from the capitalist west. This is yet another impact, which affects virtually all countries – a sign of ‘wealth and prosperity’ is defined by the consumption habits of those in the richer countries of the world. A consequence of this is that meat, of all varieties, appears in quantities that aren’t the norm in the local cuisine. This is done not taking into consideration the negative effects that this change in diet might have on both the economy, ecology and health of a country.

On the other hand to have provided typical North Korean cuisine to foreign visitors on all occasions would have caused riots. I have been in circumstances (especially in Spain) where tourist hotels, catering for those from northern Europe, have tried to introduce local dishes in all meals but have soon changed back to a more homogenised menu (perhaps having a ‘local’ menu on one night of the week) as what people say and how they react when presented with a different menu is very often not the same – especially if this goes on for a number of consecutive days.

At the same time reject all the rubbish you’ll read on other sites where people claim that eating in these restaurants is all to do with a separation of foreigners from the rest of the population. If these people had travelled anywhere in any other part of the world they would have experienced a situation where the places to eat are not chosen for the benefit of the tourist themselves but of another self-interest – whether that be of a guide (who will get some commission) or a place that has an agreed relationship with a tour company. So on virtually all organised tours, in all countries of the world, the choice is no choice whatsoever. The only way you could do that is when you travel independently – but those who the most vocal in their criticism of the DPRK are the very ones who would be like fish out of water if they had to depend upon their own wits.

I agree it’s unfortunate that independent travel is not possible in the DPRK but that has historic reasons – which anyone with a modicum of political analytical ability will understand. The biased and prejudiced attitude of some travellers being a prime example of what this has produced. If you want to find fault when visiting another country then no country would be omitted – including the country from where these complainers come. It’s a case of people in glass houses. But hypocrisy is not confined to political so-called ‘leaders’.

It’s also not true that no Korean can enter the restaurants where groups of foreign tourists are eating. It would be difficult to place a percentage upon it (I wasn’t thinking in that strangely constrained manner when I was eating) but I would say that about a third of the places I ate in during the 11 days I was in the country there were a few local people also having a meal. This was especially so in the restaurants attached to any of the hotels in the centre of Pyongyang. If there was a limiting factor it was probably down to cost, making the realistic assumption that the hotel restaurants would have been more expensive than those regular eating places along all the streets.

I personally would have preferred to have eaten on those more ‘local’ sorts of places as well as at some of the street stalls that existed on occasions. There seemed to be some semi-permanent places in the centre of Pyongyang that only seemed to be open at weekends – which seemed to be attracting a regular stream of customers whenever I passed them.

But back to what the locals had for their lunch – which I was now sharing.

There must have been a half a dozen different dishes, with a mixture of meat, fish and vegetables. The fish, in such circumstances, is almost invariably the small, dried fish (which I learnt more about when on the next stage of my journey from Tumangang to Moscow). The meat was pork and this was in a spicy thick sauce. (Knowing that many foreigners are used to bland and flavourless food probably the most frequent questions about food preferences was whether you liked spicy food or not.) And, of course, there was always plenty of rice together with a container of kimchi. (There seems to be as many recipes for kimchi as the number of people who make it and I probably never ate the same version twice.) The fresh veg was provided by a small cucumber that was handed to me and which was eaten by biting off a chunk – having the effect of refreshing the mouth from the spicy cooked vegetable and meat dishes.

Soon after we had started eating the little plastic cups began to be passed around. This was their version of the local, home-made alcohol, possibly soju (rice wine) but this version had a slight reddish tint so was almost certainly flavoured by some fruit – perhaps to soften the impact (although I didn’t think it too harsh). Again the awful Bradt guidebook ‘warns’ visitors off this tasting these home-made versions for some reason.

As I was eating I was aware that the train staff were passing past the door taking food they had prepared and cooked to other passengers who weren’t as organised as my companions. This is useful to know for anyone who might like to try what could be produced on a tiny stove in an equally tiny kitchen. I stored this idea away for possible back-up when I was on the Tumangang-Moscow train – but that was before I knew the actual logistics of that part of the journey. There would still be the problem of communication but I’m sure that, if necessary, the problem could have been overcome with body language and a few selected words of Korean. As always, if I had known then what I know now.

After the meal the unfinished dishes were put away in their cardboard box and any debris from the meal thrown into the rubbish. Then my two companions went to sleep. In fact, virtually everyone in the carriage, passengers and staff, disappeared for at least an hour or so for the afternoon siesta.

Apart from me. The corridor was quiet as I watched the world go by.

More on the DPRK

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