Pyongyang: Inside the secret brothel of North Korea’s elite

[notti_boi]

Found this article online:

Journalist Chu Jingyi travelled to North Korea in January 2016, assuming the identity of a Chinese executive looking to source raw materials from the rogue nation. During his six-day visit, Chu was exposed to some of the most closely-guarded secrets of North Korean society, which few foreign observers have experienced. Among which, the most extraordinary was a visit to a hidden brothel in the lower levels of a Pyongyang building. In this first part of an exclusive three-part series, Chu shares his story as he arrives in Pyongyang and proceeds to explore the mystery of the Pothonggang Hotel’s basement.

The customs official at Pyongyang’s gleaming new, empty international airport flipped through my counterfeit passport carefully before stamping my visa. “Welcome to North Korea,” he said, speaking Korean, but I didn’t acknowledge I had understood him. It was a key part of my assumed identity for this trip; I was no longer an investigative journalist, but instead a purchasing manager at a state-owned power plant in China’s Liaoning Province. My cover was that I was traveling to North Korea to negotiate a new contract for the supply of coal briquettes, a product which comprised almost half of the rogue nation’s exports in 2013. In reality, I was on an assignment to investigate a rumour I had heard on a previous visit: that there was a hidden brothel in Pyongyang that was frequented by members of the North Korean elite.

As I entered the arrivals hall of the airport, I was met immediately by Jang Wong-Yon, a 43-year old DPRK official who was to be my guide and minder for the duration of my time in North Korea. Jang spoke almost perfect Mandarin and was also billeted as my translator for the upcoming negotiations. While I could speak near-fluent Korean courtesy of my time as a correspondent based in Seoul, it was essential I didn’t let this become known by anyone in North Korea. I had assumed the identity of a real power plant executive, and it was almost certain the DRPK security bureau had done their research into the history of my assumed identity. Luckily, I was a good physical match for my cover, with both of us around the same height and weight. The only area of concern was my knowledge of the energy industry; I had spent the month leading up to the assignment shadowing a real employee of a Chinese state-owned power plant under the pretence of publishing an article on China’s energy industry, but there was a limit to how many questions I could ask.

Jang was somewhat distant on our ride from the airport to our hotel in downtown Pyongyang. On my last visit to the country in 2012, the guides assigned to our tour group were also cold and indifferent to our attempts at conversation. Jang filled a similar mould; helpful enough, but reluctant to get too involved with the foreigners he was charged with minding. There was, however, no doubt that Jang was under strict instructions from his superiors to ensure the negotiations went well, as Chinese coal imports from North Korea had declined well over 20% YoY in 2015. If the trend continues this year, North Korea’s export value could easily sink to below US$3 bn, widening the already-large negative trade balance and limiting one of the few-remaining revenue streams available. Thus, my cover story as a purchasing manager for a coal-based power plant was perfect: my hosts would be desperate to ensure I enjoyed my brief stay in the nation, and it would give them more reasons to invite me to the mysterious brothel, if it did, in fact, exist.

I had first heard of rumours about a secret brothel in Pyongyang in 2010, on my first visit to the country. On that occasion, I had been staying at the Pothonggang Hotel, one of the smaller hotels in the capital and less-commonly used by tourists. My tour group had initially been booked into the larger Yanggakdo Hotel, but a surge of guests for the annual Arirang Mass Games had forced our reservations to be switched to the Pothonggang. I was thrilled at the change of plans, as I knew the chances of seeing the ‘real’ North Korea, and not the manipulated propaganda version, were likely to be higher. On my second night, I woke at around 2am and decided to try and sneak down from my room on the 7th floor to see if I could slip past the ever-present security guards and venture out to the streets of Pyongyang. Walking down the building’s central fire escape stairs, I had reached the third floor when I heard voices approaching from below. Fearful of detection by guards and risking a stint in a North Korean gulag, I pressed myself into an alcove and prayed I would not be discovered in the dimly-lit stairwell.

My prayers were indeed answered, as a pair of heavily-intoxicated North Korean men stumbled right past me without glancing into my hiding spot. In the darkness, I was just able to discern that both men wore the uniform of the Korean People’s Army, and the twin stars on their shoulders signified they held the rank of Lieutenant Generals – placing them in the upper-echelons of the armed service. I focused my hearing to decipher as much of their conversation as possible, impaired greatly by drink and the heavy North Korean accents. “The new girl is not very good,” I heard one say, prompting a round of laughter from the other man. “I warned you,” he replied. “She hasn’t been broken in yet; give her a few more months.” This earned a fresh bout of laughter from his companion. “I should’ve listened to you and stuck with the Japanese girl.” There was the sound of a creaking door as the pair reached their level, and then silence after it slammed shut.

My mind raced as I replayed the conversation in my mind. The logical conclusion was that the men had just returned from a visit to a brothel, and the fact that they were taking the internal staircase of the hotel rather than the elevator implied it could be located in the basement of the building. I already knew there was a B1 level, which featured a small bar and some pool tables, but the conversation I had just heard suggested there were more floors below that which could not be accessed via the building’s lift. My first reaction was to go directly to the bottom of the staircase and investigate further, but I ultimately decided against this. If there was such an establishment below B1, it would no doubt be well-guarded and strictly off limits for a tourist such as myself. Even if I was able to sneak past the guards, the employees at the premises would immediately sound the alarm if an interloper was detected. Instead, I crept back to my hotel room where I spent the night formulating a plan to investigate further.

[notti_boi]

I soon realized that there would be no opportunity to explore the basement on that trip; there was no excuse for a tourist to be wandering unaccompanied in a restricted part of the hotel, and if I was caught I would only be rewarded with a sentence of hard labour for my troubles. Instead, I resolved to return to North Korea in future if I could adopt a suitable cover story to gain access. Over the intervening years, while I did return in 2012 to cover the transition of power following the death of Kim Jong Il, I had struggled to conceive of a false persona that would permit me to get anywhere near the basement of the Pothonggang Hotel. That was, until late 2015, when an article concerning North Korea’s falling coal exports caught my attention.

When planning my latest trip to Pyongyang, I hit an early snag – the government official I was dealing with was adamant I should book myself into the Yanggakdo Hotel, instead of the Pothonggang. “We would request our most honoured guest to stay at the Yanggakdo Hotel, as it is a more luxury venue befitting an important visitor,” he pleaded, after I had expressed a preference for the Pothonggang. I had to think quickly to avoid missing out on my opportunity to investigate the basement. “I cannot stand the tour groups at the Yanggakdo; so full of annoying Western tourists. It will distract me from my negotiations,” I demanded. “Besides, the office of the coal producer is just a short walk from the Pothonggang, so it will serve my purpose well.” Reluctantly, the official accepted my request, and I was rewarded with a hotel booking for a five-night stay at the Pothonggang.

As we were driven through the streets of Pyongyang, Jang, my host, discussed the itinerary for the coming days. “This evening you have an invitation to dine with the director and senior managers of the DPRK Coal Mining Group,” he informed me. “The dinner is being held at a restaurant close to your hotel which serves traditional Korean cuisine.” I nodded, having well-expected the invitation ahead of the first full day of negotiations. “Please inform them that I graciously accept the invitation and look forward to dining with them.” I wanted to ask Jang if there were any after-dinner activities planned, but decided against this in order to avoid raising suspicions. We passed the final kilometres to the hotel discussing the agenda for the following day’s negotiation meeting.

The driver pulled up at the foyer of the Pothonggang Hotel and Jang summoned a bellhop to assist with my luggage. We approached the check-in counter and I was relieved that none of the staff on duty resembled those who had manned the front desk on my first visit back in 2010. “Welcome to the Pothonggang Hotel Mr Chu,” said the clerk in fluent Mandarin, who was a young Korean woman of about 25, by my estimate. “We trust you will have a pleasant stay.” I certainly will if I find out what’s in your basement, I thought. The clerk passed across two keys for adjoining rooms on the 9th floor of the hotel. Jang turned to the clerk and spoke rapidly in Korean “This guy is important; the listening devices in his room better be working or there’ll be hell to pay.” The clerk responded just as fast but with a pleasant tone that belied her grim message. “Don’t worry, I already warned the housekeeper if there’s any trouble, she’ll be shipped off to Yodok”. I had to fight to avoid the involuntary grimace that would normally cloud my face on hearing the name of North Korea’s most infamous prison camp.

Jang and I rode up to the 9th floor together, where he accompanied me to my room. “Shall we meet in the lobby at 7?” he asked. I nodded my agreement and closed the door, sinking into the armchair and relaxing for the first time since I had boarded the Air Koryo Tu-204 in Beijing earlier that day. I had expected my room to be bugged, but was grateful to learn it was only with listening surveillance, rather than video. The time was 3pm, and I had a feeling it was going to be a long night, so I decided the best course of action was to play the role of stressed businessman and take a nap for several hours.

I awoke at 6 PM and showered before changing into a fresh outfit, and was not overly surprised to walk into the hallway just as Jang emerged from his own room. “Good timing,” he noted, leaving me with little doubt that the listening devices in my room were functioning perfectly. As we rode the lift down to the lobby, Jang informed me of the most important guests who would be joining us this evening. “The director of DPRK Coal is Ha Jun-Suk, who is a 38-year veteran of the industry. He speaks little Mandarin, so I will translate for you.” I nodded, grateful not for the first time that I secretly understood Korean. Jang continued by introducing the DPRK Coal Export Manager, Gyeong Ji-Hu. “Gyeong is in his mid-forties and is the contact you’ll be dealing with directly in your negotiations,” said Jang. “I know he loves to drink, so don’t be surprised if he’s constantly ordering you to finish your soju at the dinner.” This was an interesting fact, and one that would be useful in my plans for the evening.

We walked for no more than five minutes from the Pothonggang Hotel before arriving at our destination, the Chongryu Restaurant, set alongside the Potong River. I had actually dined at this venue on my last visit; it is a popular tourist spot given its prime location next to the Pyongyang Ice Rink. I was a little surprised at the choice of restaurant as the Chongryu struck me as a fairly poor site for an executive business dinner, but we were ushered into a private dining room at the rear of the venue that was decorated in far more luxurious manner. Jang introduced me to the DPRK Coal staff who had already arrived, and we all went through the time-honoured rituals of handshakes and exchanging business cards that exist even in a country as isolated as North Korea. I was seated between Ha Jun-Suk and Jang to allow him to translate our conversations, while Gyeong Ji-Hu was positioned to the left of Jang. The enormity of my deception finally dawned on me: if I made any false steps from this point in, my immediate future would consist of a very long stretch in a prison camp, and that was the most optimistic outlook.

[notti_boi]

However, I needn’t have spent too much time worrying, as the mood among the DRPK Coal managers was buoyant. No doubt they had been instructed to welcome the potential coal buyer with their best manners, and shortly after our arrival a long stream of waiters passed through the room carrying plates of steaming dishes and large bottles of soju. In my past visits to North Korea, I had been disappointed with the cuisine, but the food on offer this evening wouldn’t have been out of place at a Michelin-starred restaurant in any Western capital. True to his reputation, Gyeong eagerly insisted on topping up my soju glass whenever it dipped below completely full, and Jang himself relented and joined in the festivities, something I knew was strictly against the rules of his employment as an official minder of foreign guests. I was regaled by plenty of stories of the coal industry by Ha, dutifully translated by Jang, although with my knowledge of Korean I was surprised on several occasions when Ha threw in racial slurs critical of the Chinese, which Jang took care to avoid translating. It was approaching 10 PM before the food started to show any signs of slowing down from the kitchen.

It was at this point I decided to put my cards on the table. “This has been an excellent meal gentleman,” I proclaimed, which earned a wide grin from Ha as Jang translated my compliment. “And, I have never enjoyed a soju as much as this fine vintage,” which prompted Gyeong to raise another toast. “It would be a shame to end the night so early,” I added, careful not to overstep the mark. “That is, of course, if you gentleman are not too tired.” Despite clear evidence to the contrary from some of the older men at the table, all protested that they were perfectly full of energy and willing to continue on with our festivities. Gyeong, speaking Korean for the first time all evening, asked Jang if it was OK to proceed to the bar at the Pothonggang Hotel for more drinks, which Jang accepted, although with some hesitation. “Tomorrow’s meeting starts at 9:00 AM,” he warned Gyeong in Korean. “I want him back in his room by midnight at the latest.” To me, in Mandarin, Gyeong said: “It is decided, we will return to your hotel for more drinks.”

On the walk back to the Pothonggang, I had some elements of doubt race through my mind. What if I was wrong about what I heard that night back in 2010? What if the lieutenant generals had been returning from some other venue, and were just taking the stairs to avoid causing a disturbance? It was too late to back out now, and either way, I would soon find out what lay beneath the Pothonggang. My drinking companions and I filled most of the hotel’s small bar on B1, and the barman was hard at work pouring munbaeju, a far stronger beverage than the soju we had been enjoying at the Chongryu Restaurant earlier. I noted how ironic it was that we were gathered on B1, just meters above whatever mysteries lay in the levels below. Gyeong ensured all glasses were topped up to the brim before raising his own for a toast. “To our most distinguished Chinese guest,” he announced in Mandarin, before switching to Korean “I hope you buy a million tonnes of our coal”, earning laughter and cheers from his colleagues as they downed their glasses. Not for the first time, I was grateful for the fact that I have a high alcohol tolerance, although even that was being sorely tested by the night’s consumption.

An hour after our arrival at the Pothonggang bar, several of the older members of the DPRK Coal team, including Director Ha, offered their sincere apologies and bid us farewell for the evening, noting that drinking was a younger man’s game and that they needed a good night’s rest before the following day’s negotiations. I was worried at first this would trigger a domino effect with everyone calling it a night, but Gyeong and a loyal bunch of three younger managers decided to stay on. Jang looked unhappy and suggested to Gyeong that it was getting quite late, but Gyeong easily dismissed him, noting that if the coal contract fell through it would all be on Jang’s head. The alcohol must have been having some effect on me, because I almost said “Don’t worry Jang!” in Korean, but quickly stopped myself; I shudder to think what would have happened if they had learned I could speak their language fluently.

Gyeong got up and announced he needed a visit to the men’s room; realizing this would be a good opportunity to talk to him without Jang’s presence, I said I also needed to go. Jang looked as if he would about to join us, but he obviously thought it would be too suspicious and opted to remain at the bar. I realized that no matter how much alcohol Jang consumed, he would steadfastly prevent me from learning of anything related to a secret brothel that would embarrass his bosses. If I was to discover what was hidden beneath the Pothonggang, I needed Gyeong’s help.

At that moment, he was busy relieving himself. “So you enjoy our liquor?” he asked, mid-stream. “Yes, the munbaeju is truly exceptional,” I declared, joining him at an adjacent urinal. “You can handle your drinks well,” he observed, and I returned the compliment. “Tell me, Gyeong,” I continued, as we walked over to the hand basins. “I feel like it’s too early to call it a night. There must be something more exciting we can do than sit around at the bar all night and listen to Jang complaining like an old woman.” This was met with a hearty round of laughter from Gyeong. “You are right, Mr Chu. Jang is worse than my nagging mother-in-law.” He waved under the hand dryer’s vent several times and then slapped it firmly when it failed to produce any hot air. “There is one place we could go, but Jang definitely wouldn’t approve.” He observed my expression carefully, and I realized I had to play my cards just right. “Jang wouldn’t need to know, necessarily,” I ventured. Gyeong nodded, but didn’t say anything. I decided to test my luck further. “I’m not sure Jang stands to lose anything if we can’t agree on a contract.” Gyeong pondered that, and replied “You are right, Mr Chu. If you were to meet me in the lobby one hour from now, after Jang has fallen asleep, I would expect no harm would come of it.”

We returned to the bar to find that the remaining DPRK Coal managers had taken the opportunity to leave. “They have returned home to get some rest before tomorrow’s meetings,” said Jang. No doubt at your request, I thought. “And now I believe would be a good time for us to do the same.” Gyeong nodded, and bid farewell to both of us. “Have a good rest, Mr Chu,” he said, as he shook my hand, and I was grateful that he didn’t give any sign of our arrangement to Jang. We watched as Gyeong strode out of the lobby into the darkness. “I trust you had a good evening,” said Jang. I nodded my agreement and we walked to the elevator.

Back in my room, I checked the time carefully – thirty minutes had elapsed since Gyeong had told me to meet him, so I had limited opportunity to prepare for what the night would bring. I was grateful again that there was no video surveillance in my room, otherwise there was no doubt that Jang or some of his colleagues would immediately be suspicious that I had my ear pressed up against the wall. Sure enough, I soon heard the rhythmic snoring of a drunken man, so I was confident that Jang had succumbed to a deep sleep. All that was left was to proceed down to the lobby of the Pothonggang undetected to meet up with Gyeong.

No sooner had I stepped through my door, I was immediately seized by a firm grasp and a hand was slapped over my mouth. In that instant, I was convinced my cover had been blown and I was about to be sent to the nearest prison camp to begin my sentence of 30-years hard labour. However, I calmed down immediately when I heard Gyeong whisper “Quiet” in my ear, before releasing me from his grasp. “Follow me,” he whispered, and I did exactly that as we walked across to the fire escape – the same one that I had snuck down in 2010 which ultimately led me to return here seven years later. Once safely within the staircase, Gyeong explained the reason for the subterfuge.

“I couldn’t have you coming down to the lobby,” he said. “There are two security guards there who would have instantly arrested you.” I was grateful for Gyeong’s foresight, which was remarkably unimpaired by the amount of liquor he had consumed throughout the evening. “It’s a pity we have to sneak around in the shadows like ghosts, but I’m afraid it’s just the way things are in the DPRK where foreign guests are concerned.” I was surprised by his candour, but then he was taking a big enough risk to escort me outside the supervision of my state-appointed minder that nothing could make his situation worse if caught. “Thank you Gyeong,” I said. He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “We need this contract, so I’m only doing what’s in the best interests of my country, even if our leaders would disagree.” I felt bad to be deceiving Gyeong, as he would surely be given the blame later once it became clear that I was an imposter, and I resolved to do what I could to arrange his safe passage from North Korea at a later date.

For the moment, though, it was time to learn if all the risks I had taken up to this point were worthwhile. Just what, exactly, was in the basement of the Pothonggang Hotel? “So what do you have in mind for the rest of the night?” I asked. Gyeong grinned as he replied. “I think you’ll enjoy this.”


....to be continued.... Waiting for Part Two, which will be published on April 8, 2016.

[mrfoodie]

Read this earlier, its a very interesting insight!

[dealmaker]

1st camper reporting.

[junior_cannibal]

Something refreshing for a change. Nice.

[Trejo]

Damn well written... Can't wait for updates.

[littlepea10]

The 2nd part of the 3 part investigative report will be published on the 8th on the East Asia tribune website

[newkid67]

Thanks for the article TS. Very refreshing.

[maddog_mlvn]

Very interesting article, thks TS , pls continue asap.

[MagicFingers]

Set up tent liao, this is damn interesting!

Thanks for sharing, TS

[Graffiti]

Good read.. Up you..

[xrage]

Good find and nice sharing TS! Very interesting read. subscribed and now I eagerly wait for 9 April...

up u too.

[TheYachtsMan]

I was in DPRK and stayed at the Yanggakdo hotel.. saw the smaller Pothonggang hotel too but it looked quite run down. Didn't know it was full of treasures!

[ttocaw]

Looking forward to the next update of the article .


Thanks for posting