Well, we survived. We did what so many E-2 visa holders before us have done and travelled with a group of teachers to the demilititarized zone (DMZ) early on the morning of December 20. A Korean friend rented a van for the seven of us, and drove us to the border a short distance but long time away. Korea's so small, you see, that highways are not as common as red lights through residential and commercial areas. The 50-odd kilometer trip took over an hour with a fast driver.
Once we arrived and bought our tickets (less than 10,000 won) we had to kill a bit of time on the South Korean side. Near the ticket booth and close to a few small souvenir stands - those vendors brave some really cold days! - was the Bridge of Freedom, a bridge built to exchange 12,773 prisoners during the Korean War in 1953 (or so says my little tourist brochure). At the end of the ROK's side of the bridge was this fence covered with messages to loved ones still in the North.
Predictably, we had to board a tour bus to visit the few sites along the border we were allowed to see. We were the only big group of Western foreigners, but two tour guides gave information in English (first), in Chinese (second) and in Korean only after each stop's visit was over.
First stop was a military base on the South Korean side of the border, 2km from the country's boundary (part of the agreement the countries signed when creating the DMZ included a 2km retreat from the border). "You are lucky," our sweet Korean tour guide told us in English. "It is a clear day today. It is normally much cloudier." Although there were inexpensive pay-to-view public binoculars to peer across the border with, it was a foggy day. I could barely see the big building in the North Korean 'city' across the DMZ that was supposed to represent industry and big business. "There are 17 factories in this city," our tour guide said. Even accounting for the fact that the DMZ is a veritable conservation area, I, for one, saw no sign of life.
Admission: this photo has been doctored using the massively sophisticated program iPhoto (note: not a sophisticated program) to try and show you more of the landscape. I just wish it was also able to show you the beautifully reddish-orange sky to the right of the camera's view.
After taking a few pictures in front of the yellow line (gasp!) drawn on the pavement to mark the photography 'safe zone', we hopped back on the bus to our next stop; a tourist information centre. Ooooh!
Here, we were ushered through the small information centre filled with billboards of information, maps and 'interactive' sceneries explaining the Zone. Most interesting to me was a series of four billboards that described four underground tunnels that had been discovered since the 1960s, if memory serves. The billboards claimed that the tunnels had been dug by North Korean forces before, during or after the war (I can't recall which). Apparently, the North continues to deny that it was responsible for these tunnels.
After a short, sad video set to loud rock music, we were ushered out of the building and across the parking lot to a souvenir store (not our last, by any means). Here, we were instructed to put all our belongings in free lockers - cameras in particular - and then proceed down the hallway to pick up a yellow hard hat.
Hard hat?
The hallway led to a long, bouncy ramp down into one of the tunnels that had been discovered by the South. At the base of the ramp, our guide showed us holes drilled into the granite cave. About 3cm in diameter and drilled deep into the surface, the holes were drilled upwards at maybe a 30 degree angle. These were dynamite holes, our guide told us. Because of the angle at which they were drilled, we know that the North excavated the tunnel, she said. They also lied about the reason for drilling the tunnel. Even though the cave was drilled into granite, the North claimed they made the tunnel to excavate coal. They painted the cave with thick black paint to try and fool the South. Look, she said, and she wiped thick, wet black stuff from the walls of the cave, revealing sparkling pink granite.
Right. This, only three days after this BBC news story explaining how the North has accused the South of trying to assassinate Dear Leader.
Sure enough, when we started walking to the end of the tunnel, about 1.3km from the base of the ramp, we noticed that the wet black stuff lined the humid cave right to the end. Black paint and holes in granite weren't the only reasons we'd walked so far down into this tunnel (remember, we had to walk back up, too). After ten minutes of ducking steel poles, hitting our hard hatted heads on the pointy granite ceiling and shuffling past incoming visitors who had already been to the end of the tunnel, we reached the end and waited in line for our turn. It wasn't until I was at the front of the line that I realized what it was I was going to be looking at.
Barbed wire kept me fifteen feet back from the mail slot-sized hole in a plywood wall. I lunged to the left, into a puddle, to get a better view through the rectangle. The bright light above me, meant to improve the sight of the permanent security camera behind me, made it difficult to see through to the next wall and beyond it. There were three walls, and nobody should pass through all three of them to get to the DPRK, we'd been told at the top of the ramp. South Korean military had used to be stationed between the first and second walls. But the danger was between the second and third walls, which enclosed a space filled with land mines. I was 170m from North Korea, hundreds of metres beneath the DMZ.
The eerie feeling lasted only a few seconds, because by then someone else had shuffled in behind me to take their turn.
So we shuffled back to the bright end of the tunnel, a little less carefully this time. Many head bumps later, we were in bright artificial light and hiking up the steep ramp and onto the bus. Not before we hit up the souvenir shop, though. Although I was tempted to get some ginseng jelly candy made in North Korea (ginseng is Korea's national pride - both in the South and the North, as our tour guide would have us believe), Jon had a better idea.
For 4,000 won, about the same price as the watery Southern stuff, this beer was great. More like Heineken, I think, although I have a hard time believing that North Koreans actually drink the stuff. Is one allowed to drink beer in a country whose authorities claim that its civilians must consider "adhering to the national grain regulations and preserving army rations as the top priority"?
Onto the next stop: a bathroom and another souvenir shop. Next?
The train to nowhere. Opened in 2002 by South Korea's then-President and George W. Bush (there's a picture in the station of Bush holding a pen upside down while signing a rail tie) I don't believe the sation has seen any passengers pass through its doors. Officially, it is known as the ROK's first stop until it opens for travel to Pyeongyang. Its grand opening date is unknown, but it has been staffed for years despite the fact that it is almost entirely empty. An awfully boring place for a poor Korean man doing his mandatory military service to be stationed. I felt badly for the two soldiers who must guard the unmoving escalator day in and day out.
Then it was back on the bus to warm our frozen toes, to return to our vehicle and to head out of the little town that must depend on tourism until the train station opens for business. Judging by recent North-South relations, they'll need to man the arcade for a few years yet.
