Pyongyang By Taxi A Reminder Of Absolute Power

Normally our programme here is decided for us and tightly controlled, but this morning the tour was unexpectedly cancelled - suddenly we had an hour-and-a-half of free time.

So, we asked, how about grabbing a taxi and heading downtown?

The driver put his sunglasses on, turned the stereo up, and out we drove across the Taedong River bridge (the hotel where the international journalists are staying is on an island).

After a week on board the media bus, finally we were off on our own.

Well almost, still with our two government chaperones in tow.

We saw the huge bronze figures of the revered leaders past, across the city their omnipresent portraits staring down.

There was the vast, now deserted Kim Il-Sung Square, where all traces of Tuesday’s parade are now gone.

An old bus trundled past, curious faces peering out at us.

By the side of the road, a small column of schoolchildren lined up with their teacher.

Through the windows, fleeting glimpses of passing lives.

Among the more surreal moments, at one point, Jingle Bells came on the stereo.

We were dropped off near the towering concrete headquarters of Korean Central Television, from where the rest of the world usually gets its news of this country’s nuclear tests and missile launches.

Nearby, the Kim Il-Sung stadium, where the founding president gave his first speech after the end of Japanese occupation.

Our guide was a little concerned with us filming it during the renovation - "not beautiful" he said.

Next to the metro, where we saw what looked like a family gathering.

After some initial reluctance, our escorts agreed we could try to speak to them.

At the centre of the group, resplendent in her white silk dress, we met Grandmother Pak, the 72-year-old guest of honour.

"It has been 13 years since I retired," Pak Kum-Suk explained. "So we all gathered, with many of my friends.

"We decided to go to Moran Hill and have a picnic, and then some dancing as well."

We left the family to their picnic, but afterwards I noticed a man flash his ID at one of our guides, apparently checking who we were, and what we were doing.

A reminder that the party’s power here is absolute.

They were happier with us filming the 'Arch of Triumph’, a perfect replica of the one in Paris, only bigger.

We wanted to speak to more people, but we were told there was no time - we had to get back.

So, drawing on the old cliche of opinionated taxi drivers we turned to Mr Han Kwang-Su at the steering wheel instead.

The growth of private taxi companies here is interesting in itself.

We were told there are at least six now operating in Pyongyang, a sign of the private enterprise now beginning to be tolerated here, though the state still takes its share of the cash.

How was business, I asked, how many passengers did he pick up in a typical day?

"A lot, too many," Mr Han said. "I cannot exactly say.

"Since the taxis have been made for the convenience of the people, everyone can use them."

And what of Kim Jong-Un - was he leading the country in the right direction?

Predictably, with no hesitation, he answered: "Definitely, yes."

And then it was back to the hotel, and on with the scheduled events, just the taxi fare to pay.

Our trip across the capital and back cost $15 (£10), if you were wondering.