[Ed. note: I’ve got the intro here…]

The DMZ is 168 km from Pyongyang. Our guides were very emphatic of asserting numbers, and were very proud of the highway the Great Leader built in the early 1990’s going to the DMZ, which expanded the old road from the 1950’s. This meant, for the 3 hour drive there and for the 3 hour drive back, we were trapped in the van, captives, unable to avoid the constant barrage of questions from the guides. Three hours to drive 168 km? Yes, because the road was built in the early 90’s and it hasn’t been repaved since. 25 years of North Korean winters has wreaked havoc on the pavement, so the drive was slow, bumpy, and jerky as the driver constantly swerved to avoid a flat tire.

Out the window, the landscape was both beautiful and haunting. Splendid hills, pretty mountains, rolling fields and gentle plains passed by, yet all were marred by the regime’s efforts over the years. Poorly built canals created odd lumps everywhere. Dirt fields, unable to produce food. Shamble towns. All were peppered with people – dressed in clothes from all walks of life – working in the field, mainly by hand. Some had tools – a hoe, a shovel – and some didn’t, but every group of workers had an army officer standing upright nearby, watching. Oxen plowed the fields as people walked and biked to seemingly nowhere.

The road itself was littered with people on the move. From where, to where, I do not know. Kids with backpacks walking, 5 to 8 km from closest “exit”, so I don’t know how they even got on this road. Men on bikes. A soldier, standing in the median, 10km from anything at all. I have no idea.

As for the DMZ itself, here’s my wife…

Much like the convoy to Sudan, once all the cars of guides and tourists arrived (4 in total), our papers were checked and registered and we lined up to drive into the demilitarized zone.  Being the lucky guests to once again have the armed soldier nestled into our van (although we were assured that no one is armed inside the Zone except for a single shot weapon each, to protect against the enemy spies…aka, us.) This guard was chatty and spent most of the short drive firing off questions through the translation of our guide. We got out of the van and were able to tour the rooms where the ceasefire was signed (or as they view it, the cowardly surrender by the US Imperialists). Two young Americans in our DMZ group had apparently not done any research on how to stay out of a North Korean work camp, and spent their time making jokes and taking pictures of the guards. We can’t be sure what happened, but suddenly our tour was less 2 members and we continued in a single file line as if nothing happened…

At the Demarcation Line, we first went into one of the meeting rooms and were able to walk “into” South Korea…but only a few feet as soldiers lined the doorways prohibiting entry or exit from the opposite side. We came back into North Korea and went on top of the building to overlook the line and learn how scared visitors feel on the southern side, and how everyone who comes to this side of the DMZ says they feel happy and safe. I’d say that too until you release my passport from your hold!

What happened next can be considered my husband’s breaking point. Usually the overly adventurous traveler sort, he admitted after this that he was ready to get the hell out of this country and never return…plus warn all others to avoid it no matter what. As we stood overlooking the DMZ, North Korean guards seen from every angle, our carpool buddy began to grill the Boy. Ten minutes of rapid fire questions – “what do you think of our country? What do you think of your government? Would you reunite our home that the US Imperialists are keeping apart?” And suddenly it was over…and the North Korean guard was petting my husband’s beard in what were can only assume was a symbol that he passed the test and we could return to our hotel in Pyongyang and tomorrow to China once again. [Ed. note: The scariest 10 minutes of my life. What do I know about the government? How would I change it? What about the USA? South Korea? “Oh so you’re on our side?” he asked. I have never thought so fast, so quick on my feet, and managed to not stumble once while keeping my ‘goofy funny American act’ that I had been laying on thick for our guides. Petrifying.]