[Holiday in North Korea] Using and buying consumer electronics in North Korea

Whenever I visit North Korea, I put all my belongings through a quarantine process. I inspect my pocket litter, the folds of my wallet and the bottom of my camera bag. During my 2018 visit, I almost brought a plastic sleeve for my passport that had the name of a travel agency written in Hangeul ― not Joseongeul, and trust me, they'll know the difference.

I also leave all electronics behind. 먹튀사이트 , many other foreign tourists, even Chinese ones, have brought Samsung devices into the reclusive country, but their phones aren't on the SK network. Probably nothing will happen, but I don't want to take the risk.

It's actually kind of nice, taking a vacation from my electronic devices, as well as all communication through them.

It also reinforces the perception of North Korea as a technological backwater, which is less and less true every year.

During my first visit in 2010, I recall , as soon as we landed, one of the other passengers immediately pulled out his phone and made a call.

At that time, the Egyptian company Orascom was engaged in the Koryolink joint venture to establish a 3G network in Pyongyang. The company was reportedly working on a cellular antenna in the Ryugyong Hotel, a 105-story construction site at the time. I was eager to learn everything I could about the Ryugyong, and so I contacted Orascom asking if it would be possible to meet up with their representatives in Pyongyang while I was there. But communication was slow, with replies coming in slowly.

So I went to North Korea from Aug. 14 to 22, during which I was cut off from email. Afterwards when I visited a PC room in China, I found a new email waiting for me from Orascom: "I have sent your request to Koryolink and they would like to know the exact date you will be in PY to arrange a meeting with the CEO." Oh well, too late.

On my second visit in September 2018, Pyongyang was considerably more technologically sophisticated. The Ryugyong Hotel was now a giant LED screen broadcasting huge messages in the evening, and cellphones were commonplace. When we were visiting the Children's Palace in Pyongyang our guide, , pulled out his phone and used the expensive network connection he paid for to look up pictures of the ongoing summit between Kim Jong-un and Moon Jae-in. Not a service available to locals, and reportedly not cheap, but it was hard to deny that the world was not here.

During that trip, I attended the Pyongyang International Autumn Trade Fair, where I bought up several consumer goods as souvenirs, including electronics. I walked away with a tablet computer and a smartwatch. I wish I could remember how much I paid, but I can't remember even what currency I paid in; all I can say is it wasn't much.

The tablet, holding 8 gigabytes of memory, was made by Achim, a joint venture between North Korea and China. When it turns on, it shows a high-quality image of Mount Paektu's crater lake and plays a fairly loud snippet of very North Korean-sounding music.

The default language is North Korean, which looks weird even to South Koreans. For instance, instead of "dasi sijak" like on computers down here, the reset button says "jegi-dong," reminding me of the neighborhood in northeastern Seoul. And the "connection" function, instead of "yeon-gyeol" says "ryeon-gyeol."

It is difficult to use mainly because there's not much to it, as it lacks usable apps and connectivity. At the time of purchase I had hoped it would be loaded with North Korean games, at least their equivalent of "Minesweeper," but no such luck. I also am unaware of how to download more apps, or if I even can without triggering some sort of international alert.

And the camera is terrible, like looking through a periscope into a fishbowl filled with water. I think it was installed sideways, because the view is rotated 90 degrees from what the camera should be seeing. The first four numbers in image file names are 1970, making me wonder what the default year of this device is set to.