We head out of Pyongyang for the first time on day three, travelling 150km north to Mount Myohyang. As our bus chugs down the deserted highway, we get a rare peek at North Korean rural life.
Low-rise brick houses dominate the villages but it being early spring, there are no crops to be seen. Rice and corn are the main ones planted during the summer. Two hours away, the 1,900m-high Mount Myohyang presents a pleasant nature spot with plenty of greenery and flowing rivers.
Sadly, we're not here to trek or nature watch. Instead, we are ushered to the International Friendship Exhibition, two buildings housing the hundreds of thousands of gifts that were presented to - you guessed it - Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il.
Together, father and son have amassed more than 200,000 gifts displayed in about 200 rooms, mostly encased in glass.
It's yet another self-indulgent display, but at least it is fun for the visitor. Although we don't get to see them, there's supposedly an armed carriage sent by the late Chinese leader Mao Zedong and a limousine from the late Russian leader Josef Stalin.
As we return to Pyongyang in the evening, I wonder what's happening back home - and it hits me that a visitor is absolutely isolated in North Korea.
Our mobile phones were the first to go at the airport. The Koreans don't carry mobile phones.
Then we learn that there is no Internet connection either, which means I can't check on news back home or access e-mail. There is, however, an Intranet for citizens, giving them access to government-approved material on their computers.
The TV in our hotel has only two stations, both government channels. One shows mostly news with three serious-looking newscasters - 40-something men and women - alternating to read from scripts.
There are three modes of public transport in Pyongyang: the bus, the tram and the metro. Buses seem the most popular, going by the queues everywhere.
Occasionally you get some visuals to go along with the news items and the programming sometimes switches to Korean folk dance by young women in flowing costumes. Transmission stops at midnight.
The other channel shows Korean war movies. Judging from the setting and dramatic orchestral music, it is safe to assume that the plots revolve around North Korea's victories against oppressors like the Japanese.
The one place that does show foreign channels is the country's premier accommodation, the high-class Yanggakdo Hotel, which we request to visit tonight. It is situated on the tiny Yanggakdo islet on Taedong river.
Rising more than 40 storeys high with a revolving restaurant on top - not much of a view from there because Pyongyang doesn't have many street lights - the hotel is crawling with more foreigners than I have seen in the last few days.
Here, you not only get to watch BBC and China's CCTV but you also have access to - wait for it - the only disco and casino in the country.
Locals are not allowed in the disco and casino which means that Mr Kim, who escorts us on the 15-minute drive to the hotel, has to wait in the lobby. Both are run by Chinese since they make up the majority of tourists.
The disco is empty when we arrive at 8pm. Curiously, although its decor and displays look fairly modern, it boasts an Egyptian theme, resulting in a bizarre mix of hieroglyphics and pharaoh paintings on the walls with dated Chinese pop songs playing over the sound system.
'Our songs are not the newest,' the Chinese manager admits in Mandarin. 'They're about one to two years old.'
Each form of transport costs 5 Korean won, but the only one that tourists are allowed to take is the metro. That's possibly because it is the most impressive of the lot. The two stations - Puhung and Yongwang - that tourists are allowed into boast marble floors, chandeliers and colourful murals.
Still, he says, the disco attracts a decent crowd of tourists every night onto the dancefloor, which can hold 70 people. There are also several karaoke rooms, the biggest of which can hold 26. Book that room for two hours and it'll set you back 150 euros, but you can order up to 150 euros of drinks for free.
We can't resist asking: Are there any hostesses?
'One,' the manager replies with a smile. 'She charges 33 euros an hour. But she's not around right now.'
We head over to the casino. No bigger than a basketball court, it consists of six fruit machines and six tables - two baccarat, two blackjack and two dice.
There are already 10 Chinese nationals, smoking and looking intently at their cards, when we arrive, with about the same number of Chinese croupiers stationed at the tables. It's all very quiet, with the setting looking more like a group of friends gathering for a night of cards.
Our excursion takes about an hour, and neither Wui Liang nor myself gamble or dance. It is entertaining enough to catch a glimpse of this forbidden world inside the formidable country of North Korea.
