Sitting on the bus in downtown Seoul, heading north toward the DMZ, I felt that familiar mix of curiosity and hesitation as I entered an unstable conflict zone. Like most travelers who dream of seeing every country in the world, I had done extensive research on North Korea, attempting to understand how a country could be so frozen in time and closed off from the world. After watching hours of videos and reading first-hand accounts, I still wasn’t sure how I felt about visiting.
As Seoul faded behind us on our way to the border, I still didn’t know the answer to the question that is so often thrown at me: “So, do you want to visit every country? How do you feel about North Korea, Russia, Venezuela?” These questions are always posed as double-edged swords, especially when travel cannot be separated from politics, and the very act of visiting places is a statement. So here I was, ready to see North Korea in the distance, for now.
A Welcome to the Most Heavily Guarded Border on Earth
Arriving at the DMZ, I didn’t realize that it was an entire area, not just a single line in the ground. I guess I hadn’t thought about the reality of what this meant, and how many more lives and villages were affected. Indeed, it wasn’t just a line in the ground, but rather an entire section of the Korean peninsula, that ran from coast to coast for 250 km and was 4 km wide.
The DMZ (Korean Demilitarized Zone) is a strip of land that runs between North and South Korea, after the armistice agreement in 1953. Contrary to its name, this strip of land is said to be the most heavily guarded border in the world. Located in the DMZ is the JSA, or the Joint Security Area. This is located in the village of Panmumjom, the only place where the two nations’ guards stand face to face, a symbolic gesture and site of diplomatic meetings. In the famed blue conference room that spans both borders, a table runs right across the line, allowing meetings to be held in the same room between two different countries.
The 3rd Infiltration Tunnel
Something I didn’t expect to experience was an “infiltration tunnel” dug out by North Korea to go under the DMZ zone and into South Korea in the preeminence of an invasion. The tunnel, which is today a tourist site, is the 3rd of 4 known tunnels. It was discovered in 1978, is 1635 meters long, and runs about 73 meters underground. While North Korea initially denied knowledge of the tunnel, then stated it was for coal mining, South Korea has repeatedly called it a tunnel of aggression, and continues to search for more tunnels to this day.
Standing at the entrance of the tunnel, it was fascinating to be in the middle of a place that could have been the center of such global headlines. While I had stood in politically tense destinations before, such as the Dome of the Rock, the Falkland Islands, or Transnistria, I had never been in a tunnel that was part of an ongoing conflict, with the two countries still being at a standstill rather than at peace.
The Village Trapped in A Never-Ending War Zone
While on the tour, I wasn’t able to make it to the JSA. I don’t recall exactly, but there were political tensions that blocked tourist access. However, I did make it to Freedom Village, one of two civilian towns in the DMZ. This village is unique: it is stuck between two nations, with locals seemingly living normal lives in the middle of a war zone. They have strict curfews and are watched by guards, yet they do have some privileges, such as tax exemption and exemption from military service. Driving through the village, it felt completely “normal” with farmlands and homes. I would never have known where I was had there not been checkpoints, barbed wire, and armed guards hidden in the forested areas.
The Lookout Point to North Korea
After stopping in the town for ice cream and trinkets, we made our way to the viewing platforms overlooking the border and the village on the North Korean side.
There was an eerie feeling as I looked through the telescope and spotted buildings on the other side. Was this village real? It turns out it is not a lived-in village, but rather a “Potemkin” village, or a village that is a facade created for geopolitical reasons to make a situation appear better than it actually is. Kijong-dong village was constructed in the 1950s as a ploy to lure South Korean defectors to the north, and has since been home to only army personnel protecting the border. Looking through the telescope, I could see the tall apartment buildings and factories, all of which appeared empty. The main attraction, though, which immediately caught my attention, was the giant flagpole at the heart of the village. As the world’s seventh-tallest flagpole, it was constructed in competition with South Korea after it built one.
The Train to Nowhere
The DMZ on the South Korean side is also home to numerous monuments and memorials commemorating the battles and honoring those who passed in the war. One of the attractions that stands out is a rusted locomotive train. Scattered across its side like a splash of paint, where bullet holes and signs of explosions, the intensity and fear of the moment were still scarred in its metal. The train was once part of the Gyeongui Line, which connected Seoul to Pyongyang before the war. When the conflict broke out, it was severely damaged and bombed, never being able to complete its final journey. Today, it stands as a reminder of the war and the reality of the conflict, including the strict separation between the two sides of the peninsula that now divides families and loved ones.
This thought wouldn’t leave my mind as I walked through the village moments before. Imagine one day waking up to find that war had begun, and your loved ones cut off from you, separated by an impenetrable border. It reminded me of the stories I heard growing up about the Berlin Wall or of real stories from children I met in Syria and Palestine about how quickly your world can change as borders and geopolitical calculations move across you and your town.
Conclusion
Visiting the DMZ was a powerful way to understand firsthand the reality of this ongoing geopolitical standoff. Being able to look across the border to North Korea and hear the stories of the war helped me understand the human realities behind just a chapter in a history book or a headline in the news. The reality of the people who live here, and the countless lives shaped by the division, continue to exist rather than belong to the past.
