Armchair traveling is fine and the app certainly is good for that — it has great pictures, interesting tidbits about the locations and facilities, and geo-tagging by Curtis Melvin, perhaps the world’s foremost North Korea satellite imagery expert. But if you’re living in Beijing – or, God forbid, disgusting vapid Shanghai* – Pyongyang is quite easy to get to for a relatively cheap price, so is this app useful for people thinking of actually visiting the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea?

Other useful sections include a comprehensive FAQ and an “ethics” section, which is essentially an essay by the eminent professor Andrei Lankov, making the case for the positive effects of tourism in North Korea. (For an interesting debate among defectors on this issue, check out this article on NK News.)

Still, if you’re a non-American businessperson, economist or lawyer and feel uneasy about “just touring,” one can also travel to North Korea with Choson Exchange, a Singaporean non-profit that runs workshops in entrepreneurship, economic policy and law. Um. I may work for that organization.

*Sorry, I just want to get sucked into this silly expat faux-rivalry.

Andray Abrahamian is the Executive Director of Choson Exchange, a Singaporean non-profit that runs workshops in entrepreneurship, economic policy and law for North Koreans. He has a PhD in international relations/North Korea stuff.

You know that sound Skype makes, right? Boo-bee-boo-be-boo. Boo-bee-boo-be-boo.

“Hey dad. What’s up?”

“Not much. Where are you?”

“Back in Beijing.”

“There’s a letter here from Barclay’s.”

“Oh yeah? A statement?”

“Hold on… Dear Mr. Abrahamian, we regret to inform you that your account is being terminated…”

“What?! Why?”

It’s because I work for Choson Exchange, a non-profit based in Singapore. We provide training to young North Korean professionals in business, economic policy, and law. We take foreign experts up to Pyongyang for workshops and also bring North Koreans down to Singapore for study trips and internships. We are of the opinion that the more the next generation of North Koreans are exposed to international norms and standards, the better off we will all be in the long run.

Moreover, Choson Exchange has never conducted a transaction with a North Korean bank. The only money we’ve ever moved in and out of North Korea has been the minimal amounts of cash we take to pay for accommodation, meals, van rental, and other costs when we run our programs. By far the bulk of our operational budget goes to bringing North Koreans out to Singapore.

Two months ago, Choson Exchange tried to pay my salary directly into my Barclays account, and after much hassle the payment was sent back. How did they know who we were? Why were we on their naughty list? I’m not sure, but I called a friend who also works with North Korea, who also had a Barclays account shut down. It made me feel better and confirmed my suspicions. We then spoke to people we knew who work at another bank, who told us it’s probably because our company has “Choson” in it.

“Choson” — or Chosun — is what North Koreans call Korea. Words like “Choson,” “Pyongyang,” “Koryo,” or even “Korea” in a company or organization’s name can apparently get you placed under scrutiny.

Ultimately, through this tale, we can see two of the key effects of sanctions on North Korea.

First, they scare people away. Barclays doesn’t want to take the slightest chance that an account at their bank might be used for anything under sanction. Why go near it? They’ve been in enough trouble recently, they can’t afford another scandal right now. This fear of getting in trouble confronts prospective investors.

Second, sanctions inconvenience. For me, this means opening a new bank account. For North Koreans — even the many engaged in legitimate business — it means moving money around in diplomatic pouches and suitcases, changing company names and paying a premium to smaller, sketchier banks willing to dance around the edges of the rules.

I mean, not that Barclays won’t skirt the rules when it suits them. Last year they agreed to pay $450 million to settle charges of manipulating the LIBOR rate, while criminal charges are going to be filed against several individual employees soon. But they’re too good for my custom.

Andray Abrahamian is Executive Director of Choson Exchange (@chosonexchange), a Singaporean non-profit providing training for North Koreans in business, economic policy, and law. His previous piece for us was Oi! Kim Jong Un! – How Not to Do Journalism in North Korea.

If who you are is a journalist, North Korea basically represents the hardest reporting target in the world. If you’re writing from the outside, you have to plow through acres of rumor and guesswork to try to assess what’s happening. It’s difficult to get into North Korea as a journalist, and if you are accepted, you end up on heavily-managed tours or junkets. If you sneak in on a tourist visa, you generally get to reveal nothing special (thousands of Western tourists go every year), and moreover, you probably harm the interests of whatever company or organization invited you. Take, for example, John Sweeney of the BBC. He snuck in on a London School of Economics trip and made the most unrevealing, contrived hack job of an undercover report you could imagine. Let’s see if LSE gets to bring people in next year.

At first I thought I’d made Sparks see the pathetic desperation that characterizes such journalistic “exchanges.” Of course Kim ignored him and moved on, dragging the melee behind him. When I left North Korea, however, I realized that Sparks had actually filed a story titled, Inside North Korea: Channel 4 News questions Kim Jong-un. “Channel 4 News becomes the first news organisation to question leader Kim Jong-un,” reads the subhead. Presumably, “Inside North Korea: Channel 4 News yells at back of Kim Jong-un’s head” was changed by an editor.

Now, I understand that “doorstepping” is an acceptable tool in the modern journalist’s box, even if to me it seems desperate, intrusive, and unilluminating in pretty much all circumstances. (Oooo, look how uncomfortable he looks… must be guilty.) They rarely produce answers, certainly not from sitting heads of state, and certainly not in freaking North Korea*. I mean, Sparks knew he wasn’t going to get an answer.

But looking at his DPRK dispatches, it’s easy to see that actually learning anything about North Korea or attempting some form of illuminating representation was never a part of his agenda.

First, of the encounter, Sparks writes, “He gave me a look but kept on walking.” That is partially true and would have been fully accurate if he had only written, “He kept on walking.”

Having also been at the parade, I can say that those grenades look fake because they were pinned to the belts of middle school marchers. Channel 4’s shot selection was intentionally misleading. And some band members didn’t appear to be playing their instruments because they played pieces in shifts. It was two hours in the relentless, blazing sun. Have you tried blowing a trumpet for two hours in 33-degree weather with no water? No, you haven’t, because that’s mental. (One musician apparently collapsed afterwards.)

(Sparks, by the way, calls his minders “Number 1” and “Number 2,” and writes that after seeing Kim Jong Un brisk by, “They were speechless. I don’t know if it was the fact that I had asked the ‘great marshal’ a question – or because they had found themselves so close to him but they looked stunned.” I talked to other journalists that week who learned their minders’ names and developed good rapport with them — you know, treated them as actual people.)

There are also general professional pressures that make it very hard for news about North Korea to be free of bias. These include a dependence on official sources for information and alignment with the state on foreign affairs, which are exacerbated during wartime. Despite Pyongyang trumpeting their victory (or were they really trumpeting?), the celebrations last week were merely for an armistice. The war, technically — and sometimes kinetically — continues to this day.

North Korea doesn’t help itself by being so secretive. The desire to control all information not only rankles journalists, but creates distortions by forcing a news-hungry world to wade through the muck of rumor and guesswork. This is why we so desperately need more journalists willing to look deeper, do more research, and tell us longer stories with more complicated analyses.

There are a few out there. But don’t go looking for them on Channel 4.

*North Korea nerds: no need to write and tell me Kim Yong Nam is the actual head of state.

Andray Abrahamian is Executive Director of Choson Exchange (@chosonexchange), a Singaporean non-profit providing training for North Koreans in business, economic policy, and law. His PhD dissertation was on Western media coverage of North Korea.

The Wall Street Journal revealed on Friday that China’s airports are the world’s worst for flight delays. “According to FlightStats, which tracks airport statistics, Beijing’s airport ranks dead last among the world’s top 35, with fully 82% of flights failing to leave on time,” WSJ reported. “Second worst was Shanghai, at 71%.” Numbers, numbers. We could link to a string of posts from our archives with picture and video evidence, but none of it will feel as real as our memories — after all, we’ve all experienced the particular nightmare of flying in China. Below, some of our stories.

Mark Dreyer, founder of The Li-Ning Tower:

July 4, flew into HKG from SFO at 6 pm, was then booked on the 8 pm Air China flight 112 to PEK. 8 pm was cancelled, so was switched to flight 114, previously delayed, now due to leave 8.30 pm. That was also cancelled, so I was switched to flight 110, previously delayed, now due to leave at 9 pm. We boarded at 9.30 pm, doors closed, told we had no take-off slot – could be 10 minutes, could be 3 or 4 hours. Right at midnight we left the gate and took off. Once we were in the air, captain told us that he got the call at midnight from Air China to cancel the flight and while he was on the phone, air traffic control gave him permission to take off. So he had to promise to Air China that he would taxi at double speed and then fly as quickly as possible to arrive on time. Issue was that if we had landed at PEK past a certain time, they would be given a hefty fine so that it would no longer have made economic sense to fly the plane.

This was all to get up to Ordos for work. Leaving Ordos was eventful: Group 1 left Sunday night, flight Ordos-PEK cancelled, so they drove to Baotou for another flight to PEK. Sat on the runway for many hours, finally left at 5 am, diverted to Shijiazhuang, then bus to PEK, arrived about noon Monday (missed all onward onnections to rest of Asia).

Group 2 (me) left on the 8.30 am Monday morning flight, half an hour delayed but back to PEK no problem, easily beating Group 1 back to PEK.

Groups 3 and 4 left on the Monday afternoon flight back to PEK, told all flights were cancelled and/or no time slots yet assigned. Group 3 chartered a bus for a 17-hour journey back to Beijing. Two hours later, Group 4 boarded and flew back to PEK.

What I’m getting out of this is cancellations happen sometimes.

Alicia, founder Prep! Beijing: 

As a former management consultant, I used to travel between Beijing and Shanghai every week for close to five months, leaving for Shanghai on Sunday evening or Monday morning and coming back to Beijing on Friday evenings. I’ve encountered my fair share of delays and flight cancellations (and, consequently, fights), for various reasons: snowstorms, rainstorms, and, mostly, “air traffic control,” especially on a Friday when all business travelers rush to go home. On top of these “normal” reasons, Expo 2010 strained the aviation industry, and Shanghai’s Hongqiao Terminal 2 didn’t open until March 16, 2010. There were no high-speed G trains yet, either.

I still remember once flying back from Shanghai to Beijing — guess on which airline? — and being told to go to my gate to wait for the new departure time. After changing gates, the plane finally arrived from Beijing, one and a half hours late. One and a half hours later, we boarded. An hour later, we were still on the tarmac, and then, finally, eventually, mercifully, told to get off the plane. Mechanical failure. By that point, travelers were so angry that they had to give us food, drinks and RMB 200 each (score! cash!). I don’t remember what time we eventually took off, but it was well over midnight, and I wasn’t back in Beijing till 2 or 3 am.

Avoid night flights between Beijing and Shanghai. Got it.

Sarah Hansen:

The recent downpours in Beijing have been affecting planes. No, not because the acid is burning through the wings. Rain creates flight delays that bring to mind the snaking lines at the bus stop, the bank, and the bathroom. However, none of those can compete with a day at the Beijing Capital Airport when rain is afoot.

During a heavy rain the night before my trip, I learn that my flight to Erlian is delayed two hours.

In the morning, I find that the crusty vestige of the original Beijing airport called Terminal 1 is not my favorite place.

From the grand hall of Terminal 2 to the squished space of Terminal 1, problems abound. The damn voice broadcasting over the P.A. keeps saying so. Self check-in is an elbow to the rib waiting to happen so I make my way to the counter, and the process is quicker than expected, and my departure time is still set for 9:30 AM [laugh track].

The information screens, steps from the wand-wielding security personnel, are lacking in helpful numbers. Passengers build into a thick human clog and look upon the screens as though they might soon reveal the meaning of life. Craned necks, and shuffling feet – can’t be much longer. Now it can’t be much longer. Okay, now? I judge it time to venture off to the restroom with the knowledge that a watched pot never provides gate information.

The women’s bathroom and the expected line.

Back to the screens. No go. Stranded passengers are having a looped conversation along the lines of: “Where’s my gate? They haven’t shown them yet. Where’s my gate? They haven’t shown them yet. Where’s…”

Passing security and airline representatives are not only unhelpful but downright disdainful towards those who dare to ask for more information.

Bathroom round two. Longer line, more smells and sounds.

Screens part three. Why can’t they just tell us to go to a made-up gate?

I head off to find the poor soul who drew the short straw at the info desk, but as I approach him – FINALLY a gate number appears! Leaving… several hours from now. Fine.

Being a vegetarian in this terminal means that I am reduced to some packaged faux peanut butter faux chocolate cookies and banana milk to appease my gurgling stomach. And the waiting continues.

I contemplate the strange five-minute trip across to Mongolia that I still have ahead of me, and then – HOORAH, another line forms, this time to board the plane!

My day is starting to look up when I find myself alone in my row, and I drift off. I wake up almost an hour later and find my ass still planted firmly on the tarmac. Apparently, we are in yet another line, this one consisting of planes.

The engines do finally rev, and the flight attendant announces our happy departure. Less than an hour after that we touch down and emerge into a scorching hot, sunny day. Irony flies Hainan Airlines apparently.

NO ONE KNOWS ANYTHING.

And finally, the most nightmarish story of them all, via Andray Abrahamian, Korean scholar, Choson Exchange writer:

Me: have any horror stories from chinese flights?

Andray: Sitting on a plane in the tarmac while Murray was winning wimbledon…my country’s seminal sporting event of probably this century

I mean, they knew the storm was coming. Let us sit and watch sports history unfold in the terminal instead of spending almost three hours on the tarmac with only Yanjing beer for comfort as howling winds and rain lash the plane.

Air China loves to cancel their flight to PY [Pyongyang] without warning. You’ll get there and then they say, sorry, there is two much wind in PY, we can fly. Or there is a blizzard. You get there the next day and there is no snow.

Me: Did you get the game any way? Following on iPhone? Radio?

Andray: I followed the game via texts and calls to Tori, who was watching with a pack of expat Brits.

Boarded after the first set, took off after he’d won.

Chinese airports are the worst.

By Andray Abrahamian

There was something approaching unabashed joy at Danny Boyle’s opening ceremony for London 2012. Partly because it was a creative way to render the best of Britain on stage, partly because the soundtrack was great, but mostly because it stood up to the incredible spectacle of Beijing. After the handover at the closing ceremony in 2008, which featured David Beckham kicking a football and some aging rocker squeezing out guitar wank, most Brits assumed LOCOG would be better off not trying. Course, we also assumed we’d be out of the recession by now, too.

Both ceremonies are available online (London / Beijing), and both are worth watching, because they are massively expensive efforts aiming to inspire you to see the best of the host country. The authorities in democracies and autocracies alike use these spectaculars to highlight particular national narratives; pride in the military, historical contributions to the world and indigenous culture always feature.

First, Danny Boyle’s extravaganza. It really was a great blend of poignancy, camp and fun, demonstrating not only pride in national strengths, but the values of inclusiveness and humor. Disabled people and a broad variety of ethnicities played prominent roles. A bit with Rowan Atkinson got the biggest laugh, but even the Queen chipped in with a bit of fun.

The Hobbiton scenes were peaceful, warm renditions of an imagined bucolic English past. (Not unlike the “real” Hobbiton, from that fantastically racist epic LOTR.)

Then the former might of British industry was celebrated, replete with pollution and population displacement, as the country scenes were dramatically dismantled and replaced by smokestacks and darkness. (Take heart, Beijingers! The idea of “Foggy London” was just a euphemism for an era when Britain’s capital was choked by burning coal.)

The Olympic rings were forged in fire, then spectacularly brought together in a shower of sparks, referencing Britain’s contribution to modernity and thus the Olympics themselves.

Boyle made sure some “modern” values were cheekily imposed on the world, splicing in half a second of a gay kiss, so we can be all “ha, ha, Saudi Arabia, you saw gay stuff!” He also ensured that the Queen heard the words, “Relax, don’t do it, when you want to cum.” This was during a celebration of popular music history, which was a great lark and really did make you want to get up and dance.

In an apparent last-minute fuck-you to the visiting Mitt Romney, there was also a celebration of the National Health Service, with sick kids being treated by nurses and then freaked out by English children’s lit villains, such as Captain Hook and Voldemort. Mary Poppinses swooped in and saved them.

David Beckham proved to be handsome and very good at smirking handsomely while handsomely driving a speedboat down the river handsome.

The torch lighting was creatively democratic, forward-looking and hopeful. The torch itself is the most original iteration we’ve ever seen at any games, rightfully called “a triumph” by the BBC.

The broadcast commentators were clearly positive about everything, unlike the media that surrounded Beijing’s opening ceremony. Perhaps inevitably, NBC took the opportunity four years ago to blend redundancy and racism with the assumption that the audience is stupid and doesn’t mind tape delay. (Oh wait, that’s not so different from this year.) For example, when a dancer was held aloft by dozens of others, they explained that “great accomplishments, great individual accomplishments, particularly in this society, rely on much more than the individual alone.”

Right. Not like us individual Westerners who do things all alone.

The drummers who opened the show were “a little intimidating,” so had been “told to smile more and that’s taken some of the edge off it.”

One wonders if the drummers had been Chads, Brads and Jasons if they would have been called intimidating.

Remember the fuss over the “faked fireworks”? Zhang Yimo included a firework display in the shape of giant footprints, stretching across the city, moving from Tiananmen Square to the National Stadium. A helicopter camera shot they wanted to use was deemed unsafe, so it was replaced with a computer generated version, spliced in for TV viewers at the exact time as the real fireworks were being detonated. Merely the shot was simulated, though several news sources gave the impression that the whole display was fake. Meanwhile, some of the shots of Beckham on the HMS Handsome couldn’t have been taken without some prerecording. Also, someone helped him drive. This was called “a clever trick.” Hmm.

Another issue in 2008 was the lip synching child performer, who sang “Hymn to My Country.” The original singer was replaced at the last minute by a slightly cuter girl, who mimed the performance. Western media erupted over the issue. Both girls were used to highlight the fundamental illegitimacy, untrustworthiness and unfairness of the host country, where the individual is unimportant.

But I have my suspicions about London’s fakery. I’m pretty sure there were no black industrialists in 18th-century Britain. I strongly suspect that not all the sick kids in the NHS scene were really sick. And I also suspect that Paul McCartney’s face is fake. (And that he is a hack. I wish the good Beatles were still alive.)

Perhaps an article from Slate in 2008 drew the clearest duality between Western Freedom/Chinese Repression. Titled “Bring on The Bitchy Brits,” the writer drooled over herself pointing out how critical the British media are:

Thank you, Britain, for giving the world the gift of nasty, negative, snarky journalism, along with the culture of free speech that sustains it. In fact, there isn’t the slightest chance that the London Olympics will resemble the Beijing Olympics: not in choreography, not in pyrotechnics, not in quantities of identically dressed, super-coordinated dancers – and not in suppression of political dissidents, either.

Calling the 2008 Olympics a “triumph for authoritarianism” (while failing to note that Britain has 20% of the world’s closed-circuit television cameras with only 1% of the population and the most draconian terror-related detention laws of any democracy), the author continues:

In the run-up to the 2012 Olympics, Londoners will complain about the traffic; politicians will carp about the cost; critics will call the ceremonies tasteless… but there won’t be arrests or police intimidation; there won’t be forced expropriation of property; there won’t be stony-faced acrobats marching in formation – and in the end, the whole thing will be a lot less sinister, a lot less damaging, and a lot more fun.

Perhaps the author couldn’t imagine the fun of missiles on apartments and 12,000 troops compensating for the failures of the Thatcherite privatization fetish. Smoothly passing over an array of Orientalist ideas, the conclusion is that, whatever else, Westerners know how to have more fun than the Chinese.

Well, I was here for 2008, and it was the most fun two weeks of my life. I have friends in London right now having a great time. Guess what? The Olympics are fun. Chinese people are fun individuals. So are “we.” The real conclusion?

Let the games continue!

Andray Abrahamian is a researcher of Korean affairs who lives in Beijing.