In a surprising turn of events, it has been revealed that Taedonggang, a state-owned brewery in North Korea, is offering British-style porters among its range of beers. This might seem unexpected, but the reason behind it is rather bizarre – the brewery was actually shipped brick by brick from Wiltshire, England.
This fascinating discovery came to light during a visit to the Mansugyo Beer Bar in North Korea, where locals have the luxury of choice with seven different beer options. Unlike in England, there is no need for patrons to decipher the taste of the brews on offer.
Taedonggang Brewery simplifies its beer menu by categorizing its offerings based on numbers. Each number corresponds to the strength and barley to rice ratio of the beer. For instance, a number Two signifies a crisp German-style pilsner, while numbers Six and Seven represent the British-style porters.
The story behind this unlikely import starts with a half-joke made in a Twin Peaks themed-bar in Berlin. This innocent remark escalated, leading to a holiday trip to North Korea. During the trip, a group of tourists had an opportunity to explore the Mansugyo Beer Bar, which opened their eyes to this unexpected infusion of British brewing tradition in North Korea.
The journey to the beer bar was a unique experience for the group, who had been accompanied by their North Korean guides throughout their tour. The relationship between the tourists and their guides had been such that the foreigners had adopted a deferential attitude, curious to understand the slogans and monuments they encountered during their travels.
The group consisted of diverse individuals, including retired Baby Boomers, a recently divorced Welsh Buddhist, mid-30s TEFL lost-boys, a few gap year kids, a London bus driver, and the author of this article with his two friends, Reiss and Adam, dubbed The Boyband. Together, they found themselves thrown into this unfamiliar land, restricted from straying away from their allocated Korean guides.
But it was during one of the nights on their trip that the guides surprised them with a visit to the local beer bar. Clean and vibrant, the bar had an interesting setup with no tables or chairs. The locals stood while drinking and enjoyed dried fish as a snack. As the alcohol flowed, inhibitions were lowered, and conversations started to veer towards unexpected topics.
During a tipsy discussion, one of the guides named Kim expressed his opinion about Brexit, admitting that he didn’t think it was a good idea. This revelation caught the author off guard, as it seemed contrary to the prevailing narratives of economic self-reliance they had encountered so far. It became evident that Kim was simply engaging in status signaling, using buzzwords from British politics to showcase his education and awareness.
This realization sparked a sense of connection and understanding between the writer and Kim. It also led to similar connections forming between other tourists and their Korean guides. One of the members of the group even expressed interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with their guide, despite being warned of the potential consequences.
With these unexpected interactions, it became clear that alcohol had the power to bridge ideological gaps and allow for genuine conversations to take place. In a country like North Korea, where dissent is heavily controlled, it is through covert communication that people find common ground and a shared humanity.
As the article concludes, it’s important to note that the Foreign, Commonwealth & Development Office (FCDO) advises against non-essential travel to North Korea. The unique experiences recounted in this article should not overshadow the political situation in the country. However, this tale serves as a reminder of the power of alcohol to transcend boundaries and foster connection, even in the most unlikely of places.
