A Weekend in North Korea

Friday, September 14, 2007
After school, I headed home, packed my backpack, took a shower, and then caught the subway into Seoul. I met the tour group at the Seoul Express Bus Terminal a little before midnight. It was pouring down rain. We left the bus terminal at about 12:30 AM and arrived at the northeast corner of South Korea at about 5:30 AM, stopping every hour or so at rest stops. The rain never let up. I tried to sleep but was too excited and uncomfortable.

Saturday, September 15, 2007
We arrived at the check-in point in Goseong, South Korea around 5:30 AM, but the site was too busy, so we had to wait at a nearby park for an hour and a half. The park was right along the beach (inaccessible due to serious barbed wire fencing because of the proximity to North Korea). It was still pouring rain, so I stayed in the bus. We returned to the check-in point and were issued our North Korean ID cards, which were to be worn around our necks at all times while in North Korea. From the check-in point, we proceeded to the South Korean immigration office. At around 9:00, I had my passport stamped by South Korean immigration indicating that I was on my way off South Korean soil. While North Korea doesn't stamp passports, South Korea has a special stamp for people going to this mountain, so I now have that to add to my collection.

After clearing South Korean immigration, our bus headed north through the South Korean side of the DMZ and crossed the Military Demarcation Line. It was interesting to see land that has been largely untouched for the past 50+ years. A single concrete post at the side of the road marked the Military Demarcation Line--no geographical feature, no fence, no barbed wire, no sign--nothing but a single concrete post indicated that we were now in a different country.

Just past the North Korean side of the DMZ, we stopped at the North Korean immigration office, which is housed in a semi-permanent tent and is heavily guarded by armed soldiers. Our ID cards and passports were inspected and our bags and cameras searched for the long list of forbidden items: cellphones, laptops, telephoto lenses, powerful binoculars, weapons, reading material for distribution. It was still raining steadily when we arrived at the immigration tent. We had to line up to enter the immigration tent in the order of our ID card numbers. I was number 5, which meant I didn't have to stand out in the rain quite as long as other members of the group. Once I was past the immigration officer, I was greeted by the strangest sight of my weekend--a person in a bear suit who was seeking shelter from the rain inside the immigration tent. Here I was standing in one of the most heavily guarded borders on the planet with a person in a bear suit greeting visitors.

We boarded the bus again and continued through this part of rural North Korea to the mountain park that is one of the few parts of the country open to visitors, though still strictly limited. The differences between the two countries were immediately apparent. The absence of trees on the North Korean mountains along the DMZ precipitated erosion. The hills were dotted with concrete bunkers, inside which anti-aircraft artillery were visible. North Korean soldiers stood every 100 meters and watched expressionlessly as the buses passed by. Each soldier held a red flag, and if they saw any cameras in the bus windows, we were told that all buses would be stopped. Fortunately no one challenged them on this.

We passed by a couple rural villages and many fields, some of which were flooded from the heavy rains that had been so devastating this summer. The towns looked very poor. All the houses looked exactly alike--small, white buildings in traditional Korean style with grey tile roofs that appeared badly in need of repair. We passed right by a school that looked about the same as the houses but bigger and also in serious disrepair. A couple newer buildings had large portraits of the late president Kim Il Sung on the facade. A few people were out walking through the fields in the rain--no umbrellas. This was perhaps my only view of the "real" North Korea--both on the way in and on the way out--as the rest of my weekend was spent in the tourist area. Tourists can't leave the tourist area. Local residents can't enter it, except for the North Korean employees, whose comings and goings are closely monitored.

We arrived late at the tourist area, so part of our itinerary had to be canceled, much to my disappointment. Those of us who were hiking were immediately bused to the start of the trail. Manmulsang was a moderate 5-kilometer hike with beautiful jagged cliffs. The rain let up now and then to allow for some very mystical-looking photographs. The landscape reminded me of Chinese paintings, and the mist and fog seemed perfect.On our way back to the tourist area at the end of the hike, we passed a huge mosaic mural glorifying Kim Jeong Il and the late Kim Il Sung. We weren't allowed to take pictures, but we could give our cameras to the North Korean guides to take pictures for us.After the hike, we were bused to the hotel, where we had about 20 minutes to drop our things off and change into dry clothes before a performance of the Pyeongyang Moranbong Circus. Both lunch and dinner were scrapped from our itinerary because we were off schedule. The acrobat performance, complete with an orchestra in the balcony, was amazing, though not at all a relaxing experience as I was half-expecting someone to fall at any second. We were only allowed to take pictures at the very end, but I bought a set of postcards that I'll scan sometime.By the time the circus performance was over, I was hungry. It was 7 PM and the last proper meal I had eaten was lunch the day before. Dinner was very good that night.

After dinner, I walked around the small tourist ground and tried to catch a few glimpses over the wall that separated me from the rest of North Korea. I could just see the roof tops on the other side. A local road crossed through a narrow part of the tourist area. It was guarded by soldiers, ensuring that the local residents didn't enter and the tourists didn't leave. It had been a long day, so I headed back to the hotel for a good night's sleep.

Sunday, September 16, 2007
I got up early on Sunday and went for a walk before breakfast, hoping to take some pictures of the town on the other side of the tourist area. You can see the white buildings with grey roofs in the background. Since there were armed soldiers and signs saying no photography, this was as close as I dared to go with my camera.We ate breakfast at the hotel and met the tour bus at 7:30. Since some of the people in my group were late and since we all had to travel together, our buses couldn't leave until 8:15. This was not the first time this happened on the trip, and I found it especially annoying. Finally everyone was assembled and we were bused to the Guryongyeon District for a 9-kilometer hike up a beautiful valley and past several waterfalls. Of course, it rained.Propaganda praising Kim Il Sung, Kim Jeong Il, and North Korea's particular brand of communist ideology were etched into the granite cliffs. I stopped to try to read a few buy my political vocabulary is limited to one word--통일 "unification"--a word sadly lacking from the faces of the North Korean cliffs. The people in the photos below give you an idea of the scale of these carvings.There was a bathroom at the start of the trail, but we were told that bathrooms in the mountains had an admission fee--$1 for #1 and $2 for #2. I took a picture of the sign in front of one of the bathrooms, but when I took a picture of the bathroom itself, a North Korean guide chased after me, took my camera away, and deleted several pictures. There's no plumbing in the mountains, so anything . . . um . . . deposited . . . at the bathrooms has to be carried down and properly disposed of--hence the fee. However, the North Korean government doesn't want visitors to leave with photos of anything that would make North Korea look bad, so you're only allowed to take pictures of approved things. Apparently, the pay-per-use bathrooms aren't on list.I had my camera confiscated again about 15 minutes later. There was a traditional style pavilion that was in the process of being repainted, and without even thinking, I started taking pictures of the intricate work. A North Korean guide came running over to me and took my camera away and deleted several of my snapshots because they had the North Korean painters in them. I was more interested in the work they were doing than the people. The North Korean guide politely but sternly informed me that I can take pictures of the building and the art but not the people. Duly noted. I apologized and continued along the trail.My favorite part of the hike was reaching the top of the tall peak that towered above one of the waterfalls. The rain let up and the fog lifted momentarily, allowing me to peer almost vertically down into the valley below. The green water below, the blue and green and red pavilion across the valley, and the very first yellow and orange leaves of the fall stood in stark contrast to this grey day. Not normally wary of heights, I was a little nervous on that peak. The guard rails were more cosmetic than functional and wouldn't have done much to block a slip on the rocks--or a suicidal jump. I couldn't help but wonder if anyone's last moments were on that mountain top.While I was standing there, a cautious distance from the guard rail and certain death, one of the North Korean guides approached me. The tourist area employs many North Korean hotel and restaurant staff and guides, distinguishable from the South Korean and Chinese employees by the pin of Kim Il Sung that they wear on their jacket. The North Korean staff I encountered were all very polite but very matter-of-fact. They didn't converse, except as necessary, in Korean or English, and they did not want their photos taken. I can't blame them. The South Korean guide explained that if their photos are circulated and they're found doing something wrong, suspicious, or simply out-of-the-ordinary, there could be serious consequences for them. I imagine they also must deal with annoying requests from numerous tourists who want a photo of real, live North Koreans, as if they are animals in a strange zoo.

So I was surprised when a North Korean guide approached me. We had a 15-minute conversation in his broken English and my severely limited Korean. It wasn't like talking to a member of the "Axis of Evil" but to someone a lot like me. I wondered what he thought of me. Did he see me as just another tourist? Someone privileged, wealthy, different? A contributor to his country's economic distress or part of the solution? What does he know about my country? What history has he been taught? For that matter, what history have I been taught about his country? Was he content with his life, or did he envy mine? I'd like to think that as we exchanged superficial small talk in our haphazard mix of Korean and English that he also thought that we're more the same than we are different. He told me that he and I are 친구. In this context, I think he meant that we're the same age, but the word also means "friend."

I had taken my time on the hike up the mountain so I could take a lot of photos and allow the scenery to be embedded on my mind, so I had to say good-bye to my new friend and hurry back down the mountain to my bus. On the way down, I passed several members of my group, which gave me the reassurance of knowing I wouldn't be the last person back on the bus.

We drove back to the tourist area and had a couple hours to eat lunch and visit the shops. I walked around some more, hoping to catch a few glimpses of the town. One of the restaurants in the tourist area had a 2nd floor balcony that probably would have had a good view, but there were several North Korean restaurant workers up there taking a break, and I didn't want to risk having them delete more of my pictures, so I didn't go up there. I wonder if that's intentional. I took these pictures from the first floor porch of a restaurant. The red, blue, and brown roofs are in the tourist area, but the white buildings with grey roofs in the background are in the town on the other side of the wall/fence that separates the two areas.We then loaded up the bus to return to Seoul. Again, the drive away from the tourist center was probably the most interesting part of the trip, and I kept my eyes glued to the window to catch whatever glimpse I might get of the "real" North Korea. We passed the same small villages with their identical houses and flooded corn fields. The mountains became lower and treeless. We passed the anti-aircraft artillery and then arrived at the North Korean immigration tent. This time, there was no person in a bear suit. We lined up in numerical order, had our bags x-rayed, and turned our North Korean ID cards in to the immigration officer. Then we boarded the bus again, rode through the North Korean side of the DMZ, crossed the military demarcation line, rode through the South Korean side of the DMZ, and arrived at the South Korean immigration office, where a stamp in my passport indicated that I had officially returned. It was a long drive back to Seoul, and we arrived at about 10 PM, so I caught the subway back to my city.

All in all, it was an exciting trip. I would not recommend my tour company, but I would recommend the experience of visiting Mt. Geumgang. There wasn't enough time to see the whole mountain, so I would like to go back again, but I would probably go with a Korean tour group. On this trip I went with a group of other foreigners, mostly English teachers, and while I met a really nice American couple and a nice Scottish woman, there were quite a few people in my group who were generally obnoxious and even offensive. The tour company also didn't do a good job of keeping us on schedule or giving us an overview of the tourist area and rules.

I'll remember Mt. Geumgang and especially my conversation on top of the mountain for years to come, and hopefully someday visiting that mountain won't be any more difficult than visiting Korea's other national parks and will only be different because of its spirit and not because of its inaccessibility.