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I was hungry when I left Pyongyang. I wasn't hungry just for a bookshop that sold books that weren't about Fat Man and Little Boy. I wasn't ravenous just for a newspaper that had no pictures of F.M. and L.B. I wasn't starving just for a TV program or a piece of music or theater or cinema that wasn't cultist and hero-worshiping. I was . I got off the North Korean plane in Shenyang, one of the provincial capitals of Manchuria, and the airport buffet looked like a cornucopia. I fell on the food, only to find that I couldn't do it justice, because my stomach had shrunk. And as a foreign tourist in North Korea, under the care of vigilant minders who wanted me to see only the best, I had enjoyed the finest fare available.
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theatre
literature
television
books
music
airports
cinema
cults
hero-worship
manchuria
shenyang
totalitarianism
tourism-in-north-korea
pyongyang
hunger
kim-il-sung
kim-jong-il
north-korea
propaganda
newspapers
food
tourism
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Christopher Hitchens |