 |
||||||||
 |
||||||||
|
||||||||
|
Hop a bus to the DMZ
By SUSAN V. MILES
SEOUL, South Korea -- My friend and host, Haemee, asked me, "Is there anything particular you would like to see on your trip to Seoul?" I ignored the obvious -- the Changdeokgung Palace, the National Museum, the many beautiful temples and shrines -- and sent my reply by e-mail: "What I would really like to visit is the DMZ." Having heard years ago that visiting the Demilitarized Zone between North and South Korea was an option for those in Seoul, this trip to visit my old friend and her husband seemed like an opportune time. As I prepared for my trip, I read the press reports of the growing tension in this part of the world, occasioned by North Korea's claims to have restarted its nuclear program. The reports became more alarming, so I was surprised at Haemme's matter-of-fact reply, days before my departure, that she had booked me on a day trip to the DMZ. Any illusion that I was doing something daring was quashed on my arrival in Seoul. As I scanned the tourist brochure stand at a downtown hotel, I saw that four companies were offering this "adventure" as either a half- or full-day trip. And thus I found that I was one of perhaps 20 others on a tour bus headed toward the 38th parallel. In my cozy seat, I found my mind wandering to thoughts of M*A*S*H episodes as the passing landscape changed from city sprawl to simple villages surrounded by snow-covered farmland. Embarrassingly, the old TV series was my only source of information about the Korean War, which occurred from 1950-53. Hard truthsMy tour guide's mention of the truce village of Panmunjom reminded me of the episode in which Hawkeye gate-crashes the stalled peace talks. But during a tour of the museum that day, I was startled to read that the negotiations represented in that TV episode took place during 700 sessions without a peace being achieved. As we got closer to the DMZ, the road skirted the edge of the Han River. What could have been any waterway in rural Asia is distinguished by the barbed wire fencing and military guard stations that run for miles between the road and the river's edge.
Before entering the DMZ, our tour group stopped at the "Freedom Bridge," a simple wooden structure no more than 15 feet wide. This had been the access to freedom for thousands of North Koreans who poured across it at the conclusion of the fighting. Visitors, huddled in their winter coats against the below-zero temperature, posed for pictures in front of a message-covered gate at the bridge's north end. Handwritten messages are scrawled on bed sheets by South Koreans who hope they might be read by family and friends in the North. It is estimated that more than 5-million Korean families are divided by the DMZ. With no regular method of communication available, this gate represents their only avenue to reach out to loved ones that they have not seen or heard from for 50 years. Yet North Koreans are not free to venture toward the DMZ bridge, so this is more symbolic than practical. Train tracks, tears and tunnelsAfter changing buses and passing through a checkpoint where our passports were viewed without fuss or fanfare, we were taken into the DMZ. Here we could see the recently constructed Woljung Station, the northernmost train station in South Korea. In an act of Field of Dreams optimism, this modern, spacious station has been constructed in preparation for the day that trains can run freely from Seoul to the North Korean capital, Pyongyang. Platform signs direct passengers to the "Track for Seoul/Pyongyang." With only three trains a day from Seoul reaching Panmunjom, the South Korean soldiers on duty have little to do other than pose good-naturedly for photos with tourists. We were taken next to see a detailed history display of the Korean conflict. Included in the museum is an elaborate, three-screen display on the past, present and future of the DMZ. In this six-minute multimedia presentation are heart-wrenching scenes of the two family reunion events allowed by the North and South. My guide told us with considerable bitterness that those chosen to participate were from wealthy, well-connected or among the academic elite. Her family had applied and was eagerly waiting for the opportunity for her 88-year-old grandmother to meet with family members that she had not seen or heard from since they left North Korea 52 years earlier. The images of the reunions showed such raw emotion that many visitors left wiping away tears. After this stop, we headed underground to what is known as "The Third Infiltration Tunnel." Our guide told us excitedly that this is one of four tunnels found in the 1970s, discovered after a North Korean engineer defected to the South and revealed the tunnel's location. According to our guide, as many as 20 tunnels were constructed by the North beneath the DMZ as part of an invasion strategy. This "third" tunnel, measuring about 1 mile long, would apparently have accommodated up to 30,000 soldiers per hour to reach South Korea. To access the tunnel we were taken about 80 yards below ground by an open-top train, then walked about 450 of the 650 or so yards into South Korea's side of the DMZ. Not surprisingly, a dispute exists between the two nations over who built the tunnels to invade whom. As we walked along, our attention was drawn to the "evidence" of the North's construction of the tunnels: drill marks on the walls facing toward the South. Our final stop on our bizarre tour was the Unification Observatory on Mount Odu. At first it seemed that a snowstorm was going to obscure our view of North Korea. Waiting for the storm to ease, we looked at displays in the Unification Exhibition Hall. They included North Korean-produced electronic goods, clothing, food and school books. By western standards, the products were simple, cheap looking and, from the paper of the textbooks to the material of the mismatched business suit, of poor quality. The snowstorm eased enough to reveal the landscape across the estuary where the Han River in the South meets the Imjin River in the North. Our guide pointed out, with disgust in her voice, the fake village filled with token residents on the other side. It was constructed as a propaganda tool, to impress those in the South who were looking across into North Korea. As I peered over, I realized I was simultaneously hearing sounds of a loudspeaker message broadcast in Korean from our side of the river. We were told that this was information to tell the few North Korean village residents about the wonders of life in the South. With about 50 years of practice, both Koreas seem experts in this propaganda war. -- Susan V. Miles is an Australian writer teaching English in Japan.
 © 2006 • All Rights Reserved • St. Petersburg Times
490 First Avenue South • St. Petersburg, FL 33701 • 727-893-8111 
|
From the Times Travel page
From the AP |
