연합뉴스
| yna@yna.co.kr 2024-11-06 17:30:51
It has been exactly 20 years since I visited Pyongyang, the place that, despite its geographical proximity, has always felt so distant.
Pyongyang, North Korea—a name that, emblazoned on a plane ticket, felt surreal. Despite its physical closeness, it has remained one of the most remote places on earth to us.
On that day, a Korean Air chartered flight departed Incheon Airport at 10:30 a.m., taking a direct route over the West Sea to cover the 530 kilometers to Sunan Airport in Pyongyang in a mere 56 minutes. A straight line from Seoul to Pyongyang would actually be similar in distance to Seoul and Daejeon. And yet, this nearby place remains out of reach, a situation we’ve endured for more than 80 years.
As I disembarked, I felt an impulse to kneel and kiss the ground, just as the Pope did in Seoul or as the diaspora does upon reaching Jerusalem. It hadn’t felt real even during the pre-trip briefing at the Unification Education Institute. There, I spent more time admiring the building I’d designed in 1987—the Unification Education Center in Suyu-dong—than on the training itself. And now, there I was, at Sunan Airport, stepping into Pyongyang, unbelievably close to Seoul.
The North Korean officials from the Committee for the Peaceful Reunification of the Fatherland greeted us warmly, with what they called “fervent” hospitality. Back home, many had viewed our purpose skeptically; we were invited to attend the completion ceremony of a children’s hospital that Southern organizations helped construct in Pyongyang.
A friend voiced his opposition on my departure night, drunkenly proclaiming, “I’m totally against helping them!” Both sides remain equally entrenched and inflexible in their stances, making it all the more surreal to find ourselves, an hour later, warmly received in this parallel world.
It takes only a single act of warmth from one side to begin thawing the icy rigidity. Our delegation from the “Shoulder-to-Shoulder” Foundation, which included ten children among its 90 members, divided onto three buses with a Hyundai Trajet leading the way with flashing lights, as we made our way toward Pyongyang.
The streets near the airport were lined with freshly built apartments, but soon gave way to rolling hills and rice paddies as we approached the city. Neatly arranged fields, dotted with young, tender rice plants swaying in the wind, created a pastoral scene. Just outside the city, we passed the monumental Three Revolutions Exhibition, a massive complex that indicated we had entered Pyongyang itself. There weren’t many cars, but intersections and roads were controlled by the famous female traffic conductors who held back traffic for our passage.
In a way reminiscent of old protocol back home for dignitaries, we sped down the boulevard at nearly 100 kilometers per hour, reaching the Yanggakdo Hotel in about 30 minutes.
After a brief lunch at the hotel, we immediately began our tour, starting with “Mangyongdae Home,” followed by the “Juche Tower” and then the Arch of Triumph. It seemed to follow an order that perhaps best represented what our hosts wanted to show us. The “Home” was said to be the birthplace of President Kim Il Sung, a farmhouse at the end of the city in a scenic spot along the Taedong River, with views from Mangyong Pavilion on the hill that were nothing short of beautiful.
The Juche Tower, built along the Taedong River with no other structures obstructing it, stands as a towering presence, emphasizing its impressive height. The main tower is 150 meters tall, topped with a 20-meter flame, bringing the total height to 170 meters. The design and sculpture are average, but the height alone is awe-inspiring.
From the top of the 150-meter tower, looking over the city, there is nothing comparable in height except for the unfinished 100-story Ryugyong Hotel. Other notable structures like the May Day Stadium and the Grand People’s Study House are visible, but most buildings are carefully arranged apartments that appear almost like models from above.
These apartment complexes are reportedly organized in 500-household “living zones,” each centered around a daycare, primary school, and cafeteria, forming a sort of residential factory layout. This design aims to reduce commuting distance, enhance work efficiency, and minimize the need for public transportation within the city—perhaps one reason why Pyongyang’s streets have little traffic.
Indeed, the city is tranquil, almost hushed, with only a sparse flow of people and vehicles even in the middle of the day. The sky is clear, and below it, green spaces stretch out, while buildings are scattered with noticeable gaps. The most visible feature, however, is the thick smoke emitted by the tall chimney of the East Pyongyang Thermal Power Plant, carried by the wind over the city. Thanks to improvements in power production, it seems North Korea’s energy supply has significantly improved compared to a few years earlier. A diplomatic friend recalled an incident during a ministerial meeting here when the power went out, and candles had to be used—a stark reminder of past challenges.
The Arch of Triumph, located at the intersection of Kaesong Avenue and Moranbong Street, serves as the entrance to Youth Park and Children’s Park around the Kim Il Sung Stadium Plaza. Its architecture feels somewhat clumsy, yet the effort to reflect Juche principles is evident. On the arch, rather than a plaque, the first and second verses of the old national anthem are inscribed—a song I remember learning from a female officer when I was young.
Kaesong Avenue is a wide, 10-lane boulevard, and when our group of 100 took photos with the Arch of Triumph as the backdrop, we were the only ones there, with no cars passing by—a strangely quiet sight. It was unclear if traffic was that infrequent or if it had been temporarily diverted.
The Yanggakdo Hotel, where we stayed for five days, is regarded as the newest and most luxurious hotel in Pyongyang. Though the Koryo Hotel is considered more high-end, the Yanggakdo is ideally situated on a small, horn-shaped island in the middle of the Taedong River, providing a secure and isolated location. Its 47-story triangular structure is the third tallest building in Pyongyang, after the unfinished Ryugyong Hotel and the Koryo Hotel. The hotel’s aluminum exterior gives it a sleeker finish than other buildings in the city.
My room on the 32nd floor, number 250, was a twin suite with a lounge, costing around 150 euros (approximately $180) per night. Positioned in the center of the island, the hotel offered a peaceful view of the Taedong River flowing on both sides, uninterrupted by other structures, giving a sense of serene isolation.
Pyongyang left a lasting impression as a city of water. While Seoul feels surrounded by mountains, Pyongyang’s essence seems interwoven with its river, which flows throughout the city, continually crossing the paths of its residents.
The Taedong River flows into the city from the northwest, crossing diagonally through Pyongyang, and then divides into several branches that loop around the city center before rejoining the main river. This intricate system of rivers is known as the Botong River. Both the Taedong and Botong rivers meander gracefully through the heart of the city, creating a peaceful and scenic environment. The land surrounding the rivers is flat and expansive, which contributes to the slow flow of the water. This allows the river to meander and curve, creating areas of calm, stagnant water, and adding to the city’s natural beauty.
The riverside also provides plenty of unused land, which, combined with the careful urban planning, makes the city look beautiful and comfortable. The design prevents the greedy construction of high-rise buildings along the riverbanks, a common issue in many cities. Instead, it reflects a controlled, planned society where everything follows the leader’s and the party’s guidance, creating a neatly organized city that resembles a stage set.
Since the early 1980s, the city’s urban planning has also been heavily influenced by the policy of idolization, with city development plans designed to further this ideology. The reconstruction of the city has given it a strong sense of order.
The old walls of Pyongyang’s fortress have mostly disappeared, with only parts of them remaining. The main gates of the old fortress, Daedongmun on the Taedong River and Botongmun on the Botong River, are still standing, showing remnants of the city’s historical structure. These gates, though rebuilt after being destroyed in wars, maintain the traditional architecture that harks back to the Goguryeo period.
There are no tall mountains near the city, and the well-known Mansu Mountain and Daeseong Mountain are visible in the distance. The fortifications were built along the rivers rather than the mountains, with the river playing a role in defense. The lower mountains around the city are used for fortifications, gates, and watchtowers.
I imagined what it would be like if Pyongyang were to become the capital of a unified Korea, or perhaps, like Berlin, a post-unification administrative capital. According to North Korea’s 1948 constitution, Seoul was originally declared the capital, with Pyongyang as a temporary one. However, the capital was formally moved to Pyongyang in 1972 after a constitutional revision by the Supreme People’s Assembly. It made me reflect on the possibility of the same happening in the future, with a possible change in our constitution to move the capital.
The use of riverside spaces for public leisure and green areas contributes to a more relaxed atmosphere in the city. However, the slow flow of the rivers has resulted in the accumulation of sediment, and many dredging boats are visible, although they seem to be operating minimally. With few cars on the streets, the air is clean, and the city lacks the usual urban noise, making it very quiet day and night. The city, despite its claimed population of 2 million, seems lifeless and tranquil, with no sense of energy or activity.
At night, the dim lighting and the darkened city give it a peaceful, almost surreal feeling. The stars shine brightly, like those over Seoraksan, and the low light level of the city makes them stand out in the clear sky.
Our welcome dinner on the first night was a pleasant surprise. The grand banquet hall of the hotel was an elegant space, complete with chandeliers and a beautiful display of traditional Korean hanbok worn by the welcoming North Korean hostesses. The food and drinks were excellent, creating a warm and friendly atmosphere. The young women, despite their rigorous selection and special training, were confident, cultured, and graceful. They exuded a sense of self-assurance, which made the experience more pleasant. Had they been nervous or awkward, it would have been a much more uncomfortable experience.
The next morning, as I took a walk around the island, I noticed several guides standing around, but they didn’t seem to restrict us much. It felt as though the atmosphere had softened compared to before, and they seemed to be content letting us explore freely.
In front of our hotel, there was a golf course. We played a round of nine holes on a par 3 course. The rental cost for shoes and clubs, including the caddy fee, was 25 euros, about 40,000 Korean won.
The idea of playing golf in North Korea was intriguing, but I decided against it, thinking there was no real need for it. Along the riverbank, there was a jogging course and a golf practice range. Hitting a ball towards the Taedong River, it would fly over the water, and any balls that fell into the river were retrieved later with nets placed under the water.
At the other end of the island was the Yangakkdo football stadium, and between the hotel and the stadium was a dedicated theater for the Pyongyang International Film Festival, held every two years. Since the festival period (September 12-20) was not ongoing at the time, the theater was empty and locked. Unlike festivals elsewhere, there were no concerns about the post-festival use of such venues in Pyongyang, as they were solely for the festival.
Kim Jong-il, a well-known film enthusiast with a collection of 15,000 films, strongly supported the festival. However, the irony was that the North Korean people themselves were unable to fully enjoy it. Due to censorship and translation issues, only about 100 North Korean viewers had the privilege of watching all the films.
Starting in 1987, the Pyongyang International Film Festival had reached its 9th edition by 2004, with over 90 films from 40 countries being submitted. At the time, I was gathering examples of international film festivals for the Busan International Film Festival (PIFF) and took several photos, impressed by the festival's scale.
On that Sunday, I had previously planned to visit Changchung Cathedral, and a request was made. Catholics went to Changchung Cathedral, Protestants to Bongsoo Church, and the non-religious were sent to the tomb of Dangun. Twelve members of our group boarded the bus to the cathedral. On the way, we were shown the Pyongyang subway system.
There were two subway lines, and we took the older one, built in 1970, which was 100 meters underground. The newer line was 150 meters deep. We were amazed by the steep escalators and the immense depth of the stations. It reminded me of the Moscow subway, which is also deep. We had heard that these systems were built as emergency shelters in case of nuclear war. We took the subway from Bonghwa Station to Yeonggwang Station, a 3-kilometer round trip, but were only allowed to travel in a private car, separate from the local passengers.
The cathedral hosted a small congregation of about 200 North Korean Catholics, and the Mass followed the familiar rituals, including the entrance and liturgy, as well as hymns identical to those in our services. However, the most significant difference was the lack of a priest, so the Eucharist could not be celebrated.
It was the Feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, and I regretted not being able to participate fully in the ceremony. A few years earlier, I had heard from Father Ham Se-woong that two North Korean seminarians had gone to study at the Vatican but had returned due to the difficulty of adapting. It had been a disheartening thought, but I tried not to let the absence of a full service discourage me.
I prayed for the day when a priest from our church might be assigned to Pyongyang as a parish priest, allowing hidden believers to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation and the Eucharist.
After our brief Mass, we headed to Bongsoo Church to pick up the Protestant group, as the service there was still ongoing. Unlike the Catholic service, the Protestant service seemed lively, with a pastor leading the worship, and the sounds of hymns, prayers, and applause filled the air. Given that Pyongyang is historically the home of early Protestant pioneers in Korea, it felt significant to witness this vibrant service.
After joining the other group at Bongsoo Church, we went to the famous Okryu-gwan for lunch, known for its cold noodles. I had heard much about the unique taste of these noodles. Since the Great Leader (Kim Il-sung) himself reportedly guided the development of this dish, I had long wanted to try it. I ordered 100 grams each of the onmyeon, mulnaengmyeon, and jangban naengmyeon to experience a variety of flavors. Normally, people would order 200 grams, but I opted for 300 grams, which felt a bit much but was deliciously different.
The taste of Pyongyang cold noodles was quite distinct from that of Seoul’s version. There were no seasonings, which likely contributed to the difference, and the noodles weren’t cut with scissors. Also, the vinegar must be poured directly over the noodles, and the mustard should be mixed into the broth, not applied directly to the noodles. The servers even demonstrated how to mix the noodles with chopsticks, as we once did with jajangmyeon in Korea. It was an enjoyable experience, made even better by the charming beauty of the attendant.
After the meal, we took a walk and were shown Eulmildae, a large terrace built by the Goguryeo people in the 6th century as part of the inner fortress of Pyongyang. The stone walls at Eulmildae were undoubtedly of Goguryeo origin, with tightly packed, solid construction that differed from the southern style. The scale and meticulous craftsmanship were evident, a testament to the resilience of the people who built it to resist invasions from powerful forces like the Sui, Tang, and Khitan empires.
Our guide explained that while the walls of Chang’an, once the world's largest city, were 19 kilometers long, the inner walls of Pyongyang were 23 kilometers. However, for many of us, the most familiar association with Eulmildae, Moranbong, and Bubeokru was the popular Korean film I Su-il and Shim Sun-ae.
From Eulmildae, the view of the Taedong River was stunning. On the opposite hill, there was a pavilion called Choeseongdae, which was once the Northern General’s lookout, and below, the Suspension Bridge (known locally as the "steel rope bridge") was particularly beautiful. Technically and aesthetically, it seemed superior to our own suspension bridges.
On Munsoo Street along the Taedong River, the US intelligence ship Pueblo was docked as part of a museum exhibit calling for the expulsion of foreign forces. This location was historically significant as the site where the USS General Sherman was sunk during the 1866 conflict with the United States. The operation was reportedly led by Kim Il-sung's grandfather, Kim Hyong-jik, making it an important symbol of the independence movement. However, the mystery remained: how was the Pueblo brought here from the waters off Wonsan? Given the logistical challenges, this question remained unresolved.
In the afternoon, we visited the tomb of King Dongmyeong, which was registered as a UNESCO World Heritage Site just after our return to Seoul on July 1, 2004.
The tomb of King Dongmyeong, the founder of the Goguryeo dynasty, is located about 40 to 50 minutes by car from the city center. It is part of a larger burial site known as the "Jinpali Tomb Group." According to our guide, the tomb of the founding king was moved by King Jangsu, the son of King Gwanggaeto the Great, when the capital was relocated to Pyongyang. This custom of relocating royal tombs was a common practice in Goguryeo, done not only for the sake of establishing the dynasty's legitimacy but also to assert the power of the ruling family.
Among the 15 tombs in the area, the largest one is designated as the tomb of King Dongmyeong, with the remaining tombs reserved for loyal generals and officials. The tombs were renovated in 1992, with new entrance paths, a plaza, and the addition of stone statues of civil and military officials. A new exhibition hall and a temple, Jeongneungsa, were also constructed during this renovation.
The tomb mound itself is constructed in the typical Goguryeo stone building style, with a rectangular stone foundation and steps that retreat slightly at each level to provide a sense of stability. The stone statues added in 1992, depicting civil and military figures, were sculpted with modern techniques yet maintain a dignified and imposing presence.
Surrounding the tomb is a beautiful pine forest, and among the several tombs we visited, one notable site was the tomb of General Ondal and Princess Pyeonggang (known as the "Pyeonggang Princess" in Korean folklore). The stone burial mound is built in the traditional Goguryeo style, with stones stacked in a way that gently slants toward the top, giving it an easy, almost peaceful appearance.
The story of Princess Pyeonggang, who was once promised by her father to marry the fool Ondal but eventually married him and helped him rise to become a general, is brought to life here at the tomb. It is a tale of overcoming adversity, and the setting of the tomb makes the legendary narrative feel almost tangible.
Jeongneungsa, the nearby temple, is believed to have been built on the site where fragments of a tile with the inscription "Jeongneung" were found. This tile is thought to mark the site where the tomb of King Dongmyeong was relocated during the founding of the Goguryeo dynasty. The temple was renovated in 1992, and its architecture showcases a classic style with a large and impressive structure. The abbot, dressed in a black robe with a red ceremonial sash, greeted us and guided us through the temple, where we participated in a brief offering and prayer. Despite the formal setting, the temple's atmosphere and my own personal reservations about the presentation made it difficult to fully engage with the experience.
In the evening, we were taken to a well-known ethnic restaurant in Pyongyang for dinner, located across from the Pyongyang Medical University and near the Yun Isang Music Hall. The restaurant was famous for its delicious food, and the service staff were notably friendly and open. Unlike other locations, the servers here were more outgoing, offering drinks enthusiastically and posing for photos confidently. However, when no one was looking, they were discreetly accepting tips, adding a more casual touch to the experience.
The food at the restaurant was tailored to the tastes of Southern tourists, and the offerings seemed to reflect a fusion of South Korean and North Korean cuisines. One standout dish was the "beef galbi" (grilled beef), which had a distinctive seasoning. It was particularly enjoyable when mixed with a side of squid, reminiscent of a popular South Korean dish called "O-Sam" (a combination of squid and pork belly). This fusion of flavors brought a nostalgic, home-like taste to the meal.
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