Most Countries With The Word Democratic In Their Name Are Anything But

This being China, food - preparing it, eating it, talking about it, thinking about it - occupies a staggering amount of time and effort. So it was no surprise finding myself spending a good thirty minutes with schoolmates debating the merits of various eating establishments before making a selection.

Zhenyi had heard good things about what was billed as "an authentic North Korean restaurant" downtown, so eager to try new things, and always happy to eat, I tagged along with Enxi and Zhen'er in tow.

[Image courtesy of Wikipedia]

The restaurant was located down one of the entertainment-packed side streets that intersected Central Street. The flag of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea adorned the front, while two waitresses in inch-thick makeup and traditional North Korean dress greeted customers and led them upstairs.

Zhenyi told me that the restaurant was run in collaboration with the governments of both the DPRK and China. The waitresses were authentically North Korean - he whispered to me that he could tell from their strong accents - and were strictly vetted and controlled, lest they flee Kim Jong-Il's regime deeper into the Middle Kingdom.

I had a hard time telling their accent from my Korean classmates', but I was reliably informed that their speech was even more different to that of South Koreans than even 朝鲜族 - Chinese-born ethnic Korean minorities found predominantly in the Yanbian region.

On the way in, we passed a couple tucking into a dish of raw 黑鱼. The flesh had been cut from both sides of the fish in two sweeping hunks, then sliced and artfully placed back on the torso.

I'd heard from older Korean friends in Shanghai that it was a hugely emotional experience to meet someone from the other side of the Korean DMZ. To form a connection, however shallow and tenuous, to a compatriot from the other side of that ugly scar, borne of war and politics, was a profound experience.

In reality though, my three South Korean eating companions looked distinctly unmoved. They chatted away, and asked for recommendations from the waitress. I asked Enxi how she felt about meeting someone from the North for the first time:

"It's nothing really. It's [the separation of North and South] been too long already" then, seeing my cheated look, "I'm sure it was different for your friend. It used to be a big deal, but most young people don't think reunification is even possible right now".

The food arrived - a spicy soup, some fatty-streaked pork, cold grey noodles. To my untrained palette, they were all identical to things I'd eaten in South Korean establishments over the years, right down to the Kimchi, or pickled cabbage. My schoolmates, though, thought otherwise, making appreciative noises and exclaiming "Tasty!" in Korean at every new dish.

On one wall was a huge mural of 长白山 (long white mountain) - the legendary birthplace of Korea - a volcanic mountain so historically and culturally significant to both Koreas that it is treated with religious reverence.

"Oh, it's 白头山 (white head mountain)" Zhenyi said, using its Korean name "I've been there", he continued, matter-of-factly, before returning to his food.

Just then, the 黑鱼 we saw on the way in decided to make a break for it. Despite having precious little muscle mass still attached to its bones, it thrashed its way off the plate, and towards the edge of the table, all gaping mouth and wild eyes. The fairer half of the couple - hitherto happily chomping away on the fish's flesh - leapt up and screamed, while her man carefully and deliberately put down the piece of fish hovering halfway to his mouth.

The scream had jolted Zhen'er out of her seat, but Enxi was unimpressed.

"I'm from a fishing town. That stuff happens all the time. Fish take forever before they realise they're dead" she said flatly, even as a waitress hurried over and gingerly recaptured the errant dish.

While we worked our way through the food, a performance began. Two dancers dressed up as dolls, and caked in even heavier makeup than our waitress, took to the stage to the sounds of some disjointed music. They went through some synchronised jerky, robotic movements together, until two similarly-attired men took the stage with them. The latter two dancers mimed controlling the former, as if they were puppets, and all four spasmed their way through the routine bearing four identical rigor mortis smiles.

To my regret, my camera took that opportunity to pack up, so I don't have any pictures.

The creepy show brought to mind a half-remembered segment from "Tarrant on TV", which I vaguely recall had a very similar dance. It was quickly followed by a North Korean propaganda video featuring child soldier cradling a gun and denouncing Western Imperialism. I couldn't find it online, but this cracked me up [Warning! Strong language!]