The Freedom Bridge, the first structure connecting North and South Korea.
Visiting the demilitarised zone reveals a sobering chapter of Korean history, from war-torn relics to propaganda towns, writes Nathan Limm
It’s a bright, clear day and there’s a freshness in the Seoul city air as I awake to catch a bus outside the hotel at 6.30am. There’s a nervous energy in our G Adventures group – North Korea poses a mysterious day trip.
Reception dries up as we arrive at the Freedom Bridge – the first structure connecting North and South Korea, built by soldiers to exchange prisoners after the Cold War led to the separation of Korea into hostile communist and democratic neighbours.
Nearby is the “Comfort women” statue of two young girls, who represent all the Korean women abducted and used as sex slaves by Japanese soldiers during World War II. Only four remain alive today, all in their 90s and yet to receive an apology.
We continue north to Gloucester Hill, a significant Korean War site where British and South Korean troops were surrounded by Chinese and North Koreans. After trekking a short distance uphill through the forest, we eventually arrive at a red suspension bridge. It’s even equipped for an Instagram update, with Wi-Fi somehow available amid the mountains. After posing for a quick photo, we make our way across. The bridge wobbles and sways with every step, but any fear of collapse is merely an illusion – the bridge is strong enough to hold up to 900 people at a time.
As we plod over the canyon-like gap, I survey a rock face of a steep cliff down one side where trees defy gravity and sprout from cracks in the jagged surface.
An increased military presence gives a clear indication we are nearing the demilitarised zone. Hopping back on the bus, we drive past a platoon of armoured tanks, each sporting a driver in the front hull and another soldier in the turret basket manning a lethal-looking machine gun. After arriving at the checkpoint, intimidating military police board our bus and check our passports. Thankfully, my teenage photo from 2017 gets the all-clear and we’re allowed to progress into guarded territory.
The bus swerves between barriers and spikes to cross the bridge over the Han River into the Civilian Control Zone (CCZ). Over 400 people live in the CCZ – predominantly farmers and military personnel. Landmine warning signs line the road, with curled barbed wire and forest on either side.
Several minutes later, we arrive at one of the tunnels dug by North Korea all the way to Seoul for a planned invasion. Four tunnels have been discovered, but there are presumed to be more. Disembarking from the bus, we’re given bright-yellow hard hats before descending into one of the tunnels, which runs 73m below the surface. Despite the 29C weather, my breath soon creates clouds of mist as the temperature plummets.
With landmines above our heads, we begin walking through the serrated granite, with lights illuminating the black marks from dynamite explosions, which the North Koreans claim to be charcoal. Water drips from above and seeps through the tiles underfoot, apparently from a burst pipe. While impressive, the tunnels aren’t exactly spacious, and I’m forced to in a semi-squat, my hard hat proving essential as it bumps the ceiling several times. “I should never have skipped leg day,” I overhear a fellow traveller mutter as he too feels his legs burn.
The tunnel ends 170m from the demarcation line. At the end, we can see into a grassy area just past the end of the blockade, where the North Koreans would have started digging.
We return back up the tunnel, clamber on to the bus and journey to the edge of the demilitarised zone, where a hoisted restaurant allows us to see into North Korea. We’re warned that taking photos could land us three years in prison and a $50,000 fine. Ironically, it’s cheaper to trespass – only one year in prison and a $16,500 fine. Bargain!
Although there is no direct communication between the soldiers of either nation, they do play music through speakers towards one another. The North Korean speakers emit eerie animal noises, while the South Korean speakers blast K-Pop.
We’re each given a set of binoculars as we relax and scoff lunch at the elevated restaurant. The sky is clear and we can see Propaganda Town near the border, with their national flag pointedly hoisted well above the South Korean flag just 1200m away. The North Koreans refer to it as “Peace Village” but it is allegedly a facade used to lure South Koreans into defecting. In the distance, we can make out Kaesong, North Korea’s southernmost city. It’s an industrial complex with a population of over 300,000.
Between mouthfuls, I take a moment to consider that just 10km away, there are people who have never left their country. People who don’t have the same freedoms we take for granted every single day. I count my blessings and acknowledge how lucky I am to live in a place under no threat of war, where democracy, open boarders and a free press are simply the norm.
SOUTH KOREA
GETTING THERE
Fly from Auckland to Incheon with one stopover with Malaysian Airlines.
DETAILS
For more information on G Adventures’ nine-day “Solo-ish South Korea” tour, visit gadventures.com.
New Zealand Herald Travel travelled courtesy of G Adventures.