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"Please don't speak to any Koreans in the street. You can't speak Korean and they can't speak English, so you would have nothing to say to each other." This, one of the first directives issued by our North Korean guides as we boarded a bus outside a dilapidated airport terminal, was delivered in a manner that was oddly enthusiastic yet sternly cautionary. Nobody questioned the ostensible reason; common sense says that North Korea isn't a place to rock the boat, but isn't a candid chat with locals often a highlight of travel, even with a muddle of gestures and scribbles? The bus grumbled away, carrying us through stark post-winter fields, past rows of grey plattenbau housing blocks and into Pyongyang. Our minders were an incessant Orwellian presence for four days. The male guide was a maelstrom of energy, furiously barking orders then abruptly switching to affectionate arm-in-arm camaraderie and then back again, like a one-man good cop/bad cop act. "I like your tie!" one of the Americans remarked. "I'll give it to you!" he snapped back, wide-eyed and intense, leaving us to wonder if his outburst was simply a misguided attempt at exuberance. The other guide was an impassive young woman. Clad in a dark grey skirt suit and a perpetual poker face, she observed the group from its fringes and surrendered few words. "How are you doing?" "I'm fine." "Will the weather be good today?" "Maybe." I assumed her conduct was a show of disdain at having to babysit this horde of capitalist riffraff. However, after some time spent chipping away at her it emerged that we'd both studied Japanese. She immediately perked up, explaining that she didn't feel confident in English but had few opportunities to practice her remarkably fluent Japanese. Given that the other guide only spoke English and Korean, she took it as a chance to be openly inquisitive about life outside the so-called socialist paradise. We found common ground chatting about family, work and hobbies, but she was exceptionally curious about travel - an unexpectedly awkward topic to discuss with someone who is barred from leaving their country. The more I told her of my holidays, exchange studies and adventures, the sharper the contrast between our lives became. "Have you ever been overseas?" I asked, despite being certain of her answer. Without lifting her gaze from the ground she narrowed her eyes, scowled, and almost imperceptibly shook her head. A mural of Kim Il-sung watched over us as we stepped back on the bus.