Etiquette and Expectations: A Visitor's Guide to Respectful Travel in Pyongyang

Let's get one thing straight – visiting North Korea isn't like rocking up to Thailand or popping over to Bali. This journey requires more preparation between the ears than any other destination I've encountered in my wanderings across six continents.

First off, you'll need to book through an authorized tour company – there's no such thing as independent travel here. I went with Koryo Tours on my first visit, and while not cheap, their guides understood both Western expectations and local requirements, creating a crucial buffer in potentially tense moments.

Mentally, you need to shift gears. That opinionated, question-everything mindset that serves you well elsewhere? Park it at the border. In Pyongyang, you're not there to challenge or convert – you're there to observe and understand a society fundamentally different from your own.

Before departure, I spent weeks reading everything I could about Korean history and culture. Not just North Korean propaganda or Western media takes, but a range of perspectives. The North Korea guidebook became my bible – dog-eared and highlighted, it offered context that proved invaluable when faced with the monuments and museums you'll inevitably visit.

Packing requires thought too. Leave behind anything that could be considered political or religious material. That thriller novel with an anti-communist subplot? Leave it at home. Same goes for American or South Korean flags on your gear. I once watched a bloke get his laptop scrutinized because it had a band sticker that vaguely resembled the South Korean flag – not worth the hassle.

In my twenty years hauling road trains through the outback, I learned that every stop had its unwritten rules. Pyongyang takes this to another level with rules that aren't just suggested – they're absolutely mandatory.

Rule one: Your guides aren't optional companions; they're your constant shadows. Two guides will accompany your group everywhere. This isn't negotiable, and attempting to wander off alone isn't just frowned upon – it could land both you and your guides in serious strife. These guides aren't just minders; they're your interpreters, cultural bridges, and ultimately responsible for your behavior.

Rule two: Show proper respect at ideological sites. You'll visit the massive bronze statues of the country's leaders at Mansu Hill. When you do, a full bow is expected. Photos are permitted, but only of the entire statues – never partial or disrespectful angles. Your guides will instruct you on proper protocol, and following it isn't optional.

Rule three: Never fold, crumple or damage any item containing the leaders' images – including newspapers and magazines. I once absentmindedly used a newspaper page with a leader's photo to wipe condensation off a window. The horrified reaction from my guide taught me how serious this rule is.

Rule four: Photography restrictions are real and strictly enforced. No photos of military personnel, construction sites, or anything that could be perceived as showing the country in a negative light. When in doubt, ask your guides before clicking. My compact camera was perfect – less intimidating than a large DSLR but capable of capturing quality images in variable lighting conditions. Remember that all photos may be reviewed before you leave the country.

Your days in Pyongyang will follow a meticulously planned itinerary that leaves little room for spontaneity. Each morning starts early – usually around 7 AM – with a hearty breakfast at your hotel before meeting your guides in the lobby. Don't be late; the schedule is tight and delays impact everyone.

You'll travel by tour bus between approved sites, which typically include grand monuments, museums celebrating the country's achievements, and cultural performances that showcase impressive talent. The Mass Games, if your visit coincides with this spectacular, are genuinely breathtaking – tens of thousands of performers moving in perfect synchronization.

Meals are arranged at designated restaurants, often featuring traditional Korean dishes like cold noodles (naengmyeon), kimchi, and various barbecued meats. The food is generally good, though limited in variety. I found carrying a few protein bars helpful for supplementing meals that sometimes felt light by Western standards.

Despite the rigid structure, it's the unplanned moments that often prove most meaningful. A brief conversation with your waitress about her family. The unexpected wave from a child on the spotless streets. The surreal feeling of bowling at Pyongyang's surprisingly modern bowling alley alongside local families.

Your evenings typically conclude with dinner followed by approved entertainment – perhaps a visit to a local bar where you can share a few rounds of the surprisingly good local beer with your guides. These less formal moments offer rare glimpses of more natural interaction, though always within boundaries.

Hotels are comfortable but not luxurious. The iconic pyramid-shaped Ryugyong Hotel remains unfinished and off-limits, with foreign visitors typically staying at the Yanggakdo Hotel on an island in the Taedong River. The isolation isn't coincidental – it effectively limits unauthorized wandering. Most visitors stay on the approved floors; the infamous 'fifth floor' remains strictly off-limits.

After years of yarning with roadhouse staff across remote Australia, I pride myself on being able to chat with just about anyone. Pyongyang challenged that skill like nowhere else. Communication here requires a delicate balance – showing genuine interest while avoiding politically sensitive topics.

Your guides speak English with varying proficiency. Mine were university graduates with impressive language skills, though conversations sometimes felt scripted. The key is finding common ground through universal topics – family, food, music, or sports often work well.

I brought a small instant photo printer that proved invaluable for breaking ice. Taking photos with guides or local performers and immediately gifting them physical prints created genuine moments of connection beyond the official narrative.

When discussing life in North Korea, listen more than you speak. Avoid comparisons that could be perceived as criticism. Questions about the leadership or political system will be met with official responses, so focus instead on daily life, education, or culture.

One of my most meaningful exchanges came during a visit to the Grand People's Study House (the central library). After the official tour, I asked a librarian about her favorite Korean novel. Her face transformed as she enthusiastically recommended several books, even showing me her personal copy of one. For a brief moment, we connected simply as two people who love reading.

Smartphones are now permitted in North Korea (though without local SIM cards or internet access), but I found keeping mine mostly packed away improved my experience. Being fully present, rather than constantly documenting, allowed for more authentic interaction and showed respect for a culture where constant photography can seem intrusive.

My years of meditation practice proved unexpectedly valuable in Pyongyang. In a place where you can't always speak freely, observation becomes your primary tool for understanding. The city itself is a study in contrasts – imposing concrete monuments alongside surprisingly beautiful green spaces, particularly in spring when cherry blossoms transform the cityscape.

The Pyongyang Metro deserves special mention. Descending the long escalators takes you into cavernous stations adorned with chandeliers and revolutionary mosaics. While tourists typically visit only a few showcase stations, these brief underground journeys offer rare glimpses of ordinary Pyongyang residents going about their daily commute.

Street performances happen with surprising frequency – children practicing synchronized routines in parks, musicians playing traditional instruments. These unscripted moments often feel more authentic than the grand performances you'll be taken to see.

I found carrying a small pocket notebook essential for jotting down observations and questions to research later. Taking notes shows engagement with the culture and creates a valuable record of details that might otherwise blur together.

Pyongyang operates on its own calendar – literally. The year is measured from the birth of Kim Il-sung in 1912 (making 2023 the year 112). This Juche calendar is just one example of how the country has created its own parallel reality, something you'll need to approach with respectful curiosity rather than judgment.

Perhaps most importantly, look for the humanity beneath the politics. The university students practicing English in parks. The families enjoying ice cream together on weekends. The pride with which a restaurant server presents a traditional dish. These genuine human connections transcend the political narratives from both sides.