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North Korea’s Ryugyong Hotel
ranks among the world’s most remarkable — and mockable
— buildings. It’s taller than New York’s Chrysler
Building and wider at its base than an average city block. Constructed
almost entirely of concrete, it looks like a rocket ship and casts
a jagged shadow over Pyongyang’s gray vistas.
But the Ryugyong has never opened for business, which is why,
for years, outsiders have viewed it as an emblem of North Korea’s
broader failures. Work began in 1987 on a structure envisaged
as a 105-story showcase of prosperity. It ended just four years
later, when the money ran out. The building had reached its planned
height but was left as a hulking pyramid with glassless windows.
For years, a single crane remained perched at the top, a stranded
reminder of grand plans gone bust.
“It was the hotel with the iconic crane,” said Simon
Cockerell, an executive at Beijing-based Koryo Tours, which leads
tourist trips to North Korea. “It dominated the skyline.”
Sometime this spring, though, according
to the Yonhap news agency in Seoul, the Ryugyong Hotel will partially
open — 23 years behind schedule. Initially, it might serve
as an office complex, not a hotel, but eventually, travel agents
say, the Ryugyong will open for tourists.
As North Korea apparently intends it, the building’s completion
marks the literal high point of a major push to spruce up the
country’s capital and show off its self-described burgeoning
economic strength. The reality is somewhat different: The North’s
state-run economy barely functions, and its authoritarian government
relied on outside investment from an Egyptian telecom company
to complete the hotel.
Still, the planned opening illustrates North Korea’s resourcefulness, particularly as the country prepares for a year of celebrations to commemorate the centenary of founder Kim Il Sung’s birth. Pyongyang still has the ability to wangle investment from outsiders, trading rare access to the North Korean market. (In the hotel’s case, support came from the Egyptian company Orascom, which is building a mobile network in the country.) Pyongyang also has the advantage of being able to use its people at will on its pet projects — including, according to reports from defector groups in Seoul, university students whom it reassigned to construction work.
The hotel starts out with at least
one major plus: It was famous long before its scheduled launch.
When construction began, plans called for 3,000 rooms, five revolving
restaurants, a bowling alley and a nightclub. The government featured
the Ryugyong on official stamps.
Pride dissipated along with the funding. Architects routinely
described the unfinished structure as among the world’s ugliest;
several years ago, Esquire magazine called it “the worst
building in the history of mankind.” With neither the will
to knock it down nor the money to complete it, North Korean authorities
for years airbrushed it from some official photos of its skyline.
Officials have not disclosed details of the new plans for the
hotel. But Cockerell mentioned a “common rumor in Pyongyang”
that many of the middle floors will be left vacant, with the bottom
used for hotel rooms and the top for restaurants.
According to analysts in South Korea, the Ryugyong was initially
conceived as the unbeatable hand in a game of one-
upmanship with Seoul. As the South prepared to host the 1988 Summer
Olympics, its capital underwent a high-rise boom that included
construction of a 63-story, gold-clad building that was the highest
in Asia.
North Korea countered with the ­Ryugyong, almost 200 feet
higher.
At the time, the two economies weren’t so far apart, and
the North — with aid flowing in from the Soviet Union —
could afford occasional big spending projects. But the Soviet
collapse in 1991 ended the flow of funds and also left the North
short of raw materials.
Over the years, the North tried several
times to revive the project, once even turning to the South.
In 2005, the South Korean port city of Incheon planned to host
the Asian Athletics Championship, and the South wanted North Korean
participation. The North bargained, saying it would send its athletes
— if Incheon funded the Ryugyong.
So a 100-person team from Incheon flew to Pyongyang for meetings.
“The North Koreans made it very clear that Kim Jong Il and
other top officials considered this renovation a priority,”
said Park Kil-sang, a liaison in the negotiations. “But it
looked like a huge cement mountain, and it showed the wear of
20 years of just sitting there untouched. We actually figured
it would be better to break it down entirely and build a new hotel
from scratch.”
After the Incheon deal fell apart, Orascom agreed in 2008 to begin
renovations. Construction workers affixed mirrored glass to the
structure, and the building’s conical point came to look
like a pen’s silver cap.
Finally, one day, the crane disappeared.
“It was the middle of 2009,” said Cockerell, who was
in Pyongyang at the time. “It was a very foggy day, and you
couldn’t even see the top of the building. But you could
hear very loud helicopter noises. Very loud, and that’s not
common in Pyongyang. About an hour later, the fog cleared, and
there was no more crane on that hotel. Everybody was just staring
at it.
“It was a bit like when my dad shaved his beard off,”
he added. “It was a very weird vibe.”
