Chapter 5 - starting things off in pyongyang

My arrival in Pyongyang was nothing remarkable. Honestly it reminded me a lot of Bosnia when I left. Lots of crumbling buildings, police everywhere and a lot of gray. I was met at the airport by a young man about my age with a big sign that had my name in English. He was wearing a suit, and looked quite official. Exiting customs I walked towards him, and he warmly greeted me to the country. I leaned down to shake his hands, and he offered to carry my bags. With a silent chuckle, I told him I could take care of myself. He was about the average height of a woman back in my hometown, although I'd be surprised if he weighed much more than a buck. Anyways, he drove a black car through the city until we reached a large house that looked quite impressive. We pulled through the front gate, and soldiers approached. They looked through all of my gear, and confiscated just a camera. The driver then welcomed me into the house and walked me to my room.

A few minutes later, a woman about my age arrived in my room. She was about a foot shorter than me (I'd guess 5'2 or 5'3), but her voluptuous body glowed with happiness. She spoke perfect English and told me that we'd work together to prepare food for the exaulted leader. She asked about my background, and suggested that I was perfect for the role. Her one warning is that the leader was quite paranoid and would only eat after watching whomever prepared the food eat the same items that would be served to him. She said that this might have an effect on my waistline, and I giggled a little bit. I said, isn't this country a little short on food? She said not to joke about such things. It sounded like OUR kitchen was more than fully stocked. Anyways, I smacked my tummy and said that I'm sure that my metabolism would take care of things.

A short while later it was time for my first shift. It sounded like we'd take turns making breakfast and then either lunch or dinner. Whomever did not make the meal would make dessert. I would make a dinner that would play a crucial role in terms of how people liked me. I was told that the leader loved Italian food, and cheese in general. I decided to make an eight layer lasagna with steak and cheese. I gently cut about two pounds of New York Steak into tiny pieces, and then layered them between some thin homemade pasta. For an appetizer I made a lovely shrimp Caesar salad. My new friend made a chocolate cake for dessert. Just before my 6:30p deadline I finished everything. Shortly thereafter Kim Jong Un walked into the dining room, and insisted on watching me eat a half of the lasagna he had selected for me. I loved every last bite, although my tummy was stuffed afterwards.