Yoga in the Land of Kim: Sweden’s Ambassador Turns Pyongyang into a Stretching Sanctuary
Picture this: a barefoot, golden‑haired man in a bright Swedish flag‑logo tee, bending over the Grand Juche Tower in Pyongyang, all while the nation’s most tightly‑controlled society watches. That’s Joachim Bergstrom, the Swedish Ambassador, who’s taken yoga as his “ticket out of isolation” during a period that feels more like a lockdown than a diplomatic posting.
Why a Diplomat Needs Namaste (and a bit of nerve)
- He’s been stationed in North Korea since September 2019, keeping his “passport to the rest of the world” very tucked away.
- When COVID‑19 hit China in January, North Korea flung its borders wide open—only to close them again, leaving all foreigners—including Bergstrom—completely stuck inside.
- With flights cancelled and trains halted, the city became a solitary corner of the globe, with everyday life cut short by power outages, water rationing, and a government‑handled “no‑contact” dilemma.
The Quiet Quest for Balance
When the pandemic struck, Bergstrom’s yoga habit became more than a workout. “It’s a physical practice totally independent of all these factors,” he notes—making it a constant friend when the world outside the compound is turning into a napkin‑filled drama.
“I keep bicycling around and practicing in parks or public sites. It throws my fellow diplomats and the occasional aid worker’s curiosity into question, but also into smiles,” he writes to Reuters through a messaging app. “The look of disbelief when I do a headstand is worth it, and it’s these moments—little ripple of human connection—that keep me going.”
Pictures that Publicize Peace
- Tap into the “Zen of Kim” with photos showing his unlikeable elongated arms against the skyline of the unfinished Ryugyong Hotel.
- The Arch of Triumph becomes the backdrop of bended legs and a free‑winged breathing technique.
- Off‑the‑cuff, each photo pieces a piece of a story: a Swedish ambassador and a dictator’s front yard are not so far apart.
Through each of these images, Bergstrom offers the world a small taste of normalcy—aisling a place that normally suppresses movement, yet somehow becomes a playground for the body and mind.
From Distance to Distant‑Less: The Human Connection that Happens in the Sky
While other delegations bounced back to their home countries, Swedish diplomats were forced to stay. The profound isolation is punctured only by brief moments when locals catch a glimpse of a man flipping his body outside the tight, red‑green lines of a government‑tightens place.
“The people of Pyongyang are curious and friendly, often with smiles. The gestures, even if just a nod, is a reminder that we’re all stuck together in an alarmingly connected world—be it on paper or a yoga mat,” Bergstrom shares.
In a land that doesn’t even admit “COVID‑19” in reports, the small act of being human—stretching, breathing, moving—adds a universal thread that isn’t cut low for a man in underwear or a completely different color street‑lamp. The only thing that matters, maybe ultimately, is the way the world will come back together after this pandemic that served as a reminder that:
In a place where you can only control one’s workout, your spirit is free to float so, no matter what’s happening, you can always play your own game.
