KIM JONG-IL was everywhere when I visited North Korea – or rather the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK) – last summer.

Not literally, of course, but a ubiquitous presence via posters, murals and state media.

He struck me as a rather uninspiring figure. Short, clearly frail, and lacking the stature and obvious charisma of his father Kim Il-Sung, the so-called "Great Leader".

Images of the benign-looking founder of North Korea usually sat alongside those of his son. We even saw the man himself, lying in state at a sprawling mausoleum on the outskirts of the capital Pyongyang.

The choreography was impressive. Seemingly endless moving walkways transported us to Kim Il-Sung's inner sanctum, by which point it was difficult not to feel overawed.

I had assumed North Korea wasn't open for tourism, but around 2000 Westerners visit every year. But if you visit North Korea, you do so on its terms, and those are pretty strict. Your passport and mobile phone are confiscated as soon as you enter the country, while visitors visit only authorised sights.

Everything is contrived to show sceptical Westerners the DPRK is not the closed, austere communist state we've been led to believe. Often our hosts laboured this point a little too heavily. Guiding us through Moranbong Park on Liberation Day we were literally accosted by dancing holidaymakers and invited to join in.

Of course this could have been genuine, but our cynical minds went into overdrive.

Food was also plentiful; so much so that one couldn't help feeling Western reports of a starving population had compelled the authorities to take corrective action. Eggs, chicken and boiled cabbage were staples, accompanied by surprisingly good local beer. We stayed at the foreigner-only Yanggakdo Hotel on an island in the middle of Pyongyang.

Only occasionally did we glimpse the reality of life in the DPRK. In the countryside ox carts passed for modern farming methods, while citizens were constantly engaged in menial tasks. Only once did we encounter ordinary workers. Their faces were etched, not with fear or incomprehension as one might have expected, but just blankness. Many were barely more than 4ft in height, a legacy of nutritional deficiency stretching back generations.

All of this was fascinating, although retaining a sense of perspective was often difficult. It was easy to sneer at their devotion to the Great Leader, giggle at persistent references to imperialist aggressors and poke fun at the official Juche ideology, a sort of crude nationalism that replaced Marxist-Leninism in the early-1980s, the brainchild of Kim Jong-il.

That said, the DPRK is a deeply strange place. Strange not just because it still adheres to what most would consider an outdated ideology, but strange because it's so close to the market socialism of China and the rampant capitalism of South Korea. That it hasn't succumbed would be impressive were it not for the fact most accounts – based upon defector testimonies – point to unspeakably harsh realities for most North Korean citizens.