Travel to North Korea – or the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) as the government laughably calls itself - is very heavily restricted. You cannot travel on passports from the US, South Korea or Israel. You cannot travel on a tourist visa if you are a journalist. Most painfully of all, you cannot travel around freely within North Korea, but must at all times be accompanied by two North Korean government officials (the second one, presumably, to keep an eye on the first). In my case, I went with a group organised by Koryo Tours, a British company based in Beijing which help curious westerners like me satisfy their North Korean fetish.

During the trip, the guides kept a close, but not suffocating, eye on us. Whilst we were told never to stray from the group, there was never a problem with us lingering a little behind the group, or meandering in a way that left us surrounded by locals. Language difficulties were a much greater barrier to communicating with the local people than the guides were.

The guides also served a slightly more sinister role - it is likely that they were keeping a close eye on our activities. Asking too many odd questions or taking too many photos was likely to be reported to people further up the hierarchy. This all goes back to North Korea’s longstanding suspicion of the west, and the notion has been instilled in North Koreans that any foreigner is most likely a spy. It’s little wonder that tourists are kept on a short leash.

North Koreans seem to have an intense fascination with their leaders. As the nation’s founding president, Kim Il Sung was adored and celebrated by his people...or at least that’s the impression left by the endless pictures and monuments in honour of the man.

Such was his impact on NK that he was enshrined in the country’s constitution as a permanent president, meaning that his death in 1994 had no impact on the status of his presidency. He is often affectionately referred to as the “Great Leader”. His son, Kim Jong Il fought of a number of contenders before being announced as successor, and has earned himself the honorific title of “Dear Leader”.

Despite the fact that he has yet to break his duck in giving a speech in his time as national leader, he is revered in the same spirit as his father was.

Public art and culture is slavishly devoted to the Kims. During our visit, the Kimjongilia Flower Festival was on in honour of Kim Jong Il’s 63rd birthday (the Kimjongilia is of course the national flower of North Korea).

The festival consisted of various arrangements of the single type of flower under courageous portraits of the Dear Leader. A variety of public institutions with stands at the festival seem to have tried to outdo each other in their sycophancy and slavish devotion. Elsewhere, a public art show consisted almost exclusively of portraits of KJI in heroic poses, like a “Where’s Wally” for complete idiots. With some pictures, one sensed a clearly talented landscape painter desperately seeking to throw Kim from the canvas, but lacking the courage.

One recurring question that played on my mind was whether this public honouring of the Kims was genuine, or was it the product of a malicious state who punish those who don’t comply? Strange at it may seem, the admiration appears genuine. People seem to be genuinely uplifted by small daily encounters with Kimthings, and wear the Kim Il Sung badges on their lapels with pride and distinction. Perhaps this is a product of growing up knowing little else, given that it has been instilled as a way of life for over half a century. North Korean people seem to feel that they are genuinely blessed to have such divine guidance...two times over!

Whilst Pyongyang might be lacking in many things - decent aesthetics, vibrant nightlife, a sense of humour - one thing it can proudly boast about is its public monuments. A quick glance along the Pyongyang skyline reveals a number of curious icons, each honouring a person, war, idea, organisation or date and presented with the unflinching strength of conviction that no one could ever possibly have about the truth. Pyongyangers obviously take pride in the monuments which make the city unique: despite a chilly February winter and a Kim-Jong-Il’s-haircut-but-in-white cover of snow, people were out in great numbers to loiter in the presence of architectural greatness.

In the true spirit of DPRK, at most of the monuments visited our tour guide, would share the most vital detail - the date when either of the Kims visited the site, and the words of wisdom that he proffered upon seeing the site. That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?

The most interesting part of the trip was the time spent travelling between sites, where we could watch outside the tour bus and see what life was like for ordinary Pyongyangers. The first thing that you notice is that there are so few cars on the road. Most of the traffic is on foot or on pedal, with a constant stream of pedestrians dominating some streets. People seem to be much like the denizens of any other Asian developing world capital - dressed in basic but adequate clothing, generally walking in small groups, often avoiding eye-contact, and slightly hunched over as if to remain as unnoticed as possible. There is no particular urgency to movement in Pyongyang - I guess there are few places worth rushing to.

Another strange pedestrian quirk is the proliferation of underpasses in the city. Presumably in anticipation of large volumes of traffic (or a nuclear holocaust, whichever comes first), the government has constructed frequent, cavernous road underpasses. Even though there is usually no traffic whatsoever approaching, all pedestrians will use the underpass. This provides a fascinating little glimpse into the people’s relationship with figures of authority - they will blindly follow the rules, regardless of whether the rule is necessary or not. Few people anywhere else in the world would use an underpass to cross a deserted road.

North Korea has some of the world’s best-behaved kids. Whilst the rest of the world indulges the every whim and fantasy of their children, and as a result is populated by loud, obnoxious, precocious, adventurous, inquisitive children, things are rather different north of the 38th parallel.

Children are amazingly docile and compliant, obediently following the instructions of their elders as if they know no other way. It is not uncommon in Pyongyang to see parents walking hand in hand with their young children, with the child walking in near perfect step right behind. It’s a little eerie to watch, and suggests that a lot of North Koreans will need to be ‘de-programmed’ if they are to interact with the rest of the world.

One day Korea may well reunify, and the journey from Seoul to Pyongyang will be a languid day trip taken by families carrying picnic baskets filled with kimchi. For now, the Korean peninsula is at the front line of one of the most dangerous disputes the planet has known.

Resolution is a long and tricky path, but there is hope. The first objective needs to be one of containment, stripping DPRK of its nuclear weapons and reducing the immediate threat. The second step will be the ending of the Kim regime. Either way, the days of KJI and his thugs are numbered, though the countdown has a while to go yet. For now it remains one hell of a tourist destination.