The Joint Security Area

I booked my tour to the DMZ through Koridoor, which operates in conjunction with the USO. It cost $80 and lasted eight hours, about half of it spent on a bus.

My understanding was that this was the only way to visit the Joint Security Area, where the armistice was signed in 1953 and where South and North Korean soldiers have been staring at each other since. But there was another group there at the time, and they didn't have the Koridoor/USO lanyards and tags we had, so I guess that's not the case. We first visited the Third Infiltration Tunnel, as described here.

The Koreans I've spoken to say they're not so keen on reunification. They're OK with two Koreas but would like to see some travel restrictions lifted, if only a bit, so family members can occasionally see one another. We waste some time at the Dora observation post.

No photographs are allowed beyond the yellow line for trumped-up "security reasons." Like the Norks have no access to satellite photography. You can look. You can take notes. You can draw a watercolor. But you can't photograph. Absurd.

The Dorasan Train Station is a monument to the reunification fantasy. "The roof of the building shows a figure of clapsed hands," reads a sign. Presidents Kim and Bush met here in 2002.

But there is no rail service to the North. A few shipments were made to the North's Gaeseong Industrial Complex more than a decade ago, but they stopped when North Korean soldiers killed a South Korean woman on a beach and refused to apologize.

In fact, the station is empty most of the day.

These four passengers are headed south, toward Munsan.

A fanciful destination sign. Strictly theater, and a little insulting to the serious visitor.

We're entering Camp Bonifas now, named after Capt. Arthur Bonifas, one of the soldiers killed in the 1976 Ax Murder Incident.

A Capt. Lawrence enters the bus. He'll be our guide the rest of the way, and we must once again produce passports.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "are you ready to see some North Koreans today?"

We board a different bus and are taken to a briefing room.

Portions of the presentation, preceded by some reminders from our Korean guide:

jsa.briefing from Sluggh McGee on Vimeo.

We are handed "visitor declarations" which state, in part:

"The visit to the Joint Security Area at Panmunjom will entail into [sic] a hostile area and possibility of injury or death as a direct result of enemy action. ... "Fraternization, including speaking, gesture or any association with personnel from the Korean People's Army/Chinese People's Volunteers side, is strictly prohibited."

I give up my right to sue and sign.

I've been waiting a long time to visit this place. Walk in two single files, Lawrence said, and don't stop for anything.

dmz.joint.security.area from Sluggh McGee on Vimeo.

ROK soldiers stare at their Northern counterparts, deliberately obscuring half their body so as to limit their exposure to any gunfire.

Or so it is told.

I stand in North Korea, affecting a strained taekwando pose.

The door behind this soldier leads to North Korea. He won't let you through it. I am not sure why. Seriously, I don't get it. I understand the North Korean army expending a lot of manpower to keep people wading across the shallow Tumen River into China, and the heavily mined DMZ has pretty much reduced the number of defections south to zero. But what is South Korea's interest in keeping its citizens and foreigners from straying north? Nobody wants to, for one thing, so what's the big deal?

To my knowledge there is just one American defector still living in North Korea. His name is James Dresnok, and he's a complete fuckin' tool, obviously. His story is told in a pretty good movie called "Crossing the Line," available via instant Netflix streaming.

Microphones on the conference desk separating North from South record everything spoken here, year after year after year. I was hoping a North Korean soldier would peer into one of the windows, as they've been known to do, but nope.

The North Koreans give tours in this building, too. It's available on a first-come, first-served basis. Interestingly, Americans can visit the JSA from the North, provided they're not journalists and are willing to be accompanied by minders at all hours of the day. Oh, and you have to bow in front of pictures and statues of Kim Il Sung and his offspring and surrender your cellphone, but pretty much anyone can visit Pyongyang. It's not a huge deal. The U.S. discourages it, obviously, and tries to scare Americans away by telling them if you get sick, it will cost $30,000 to charter a medevac helicopter to Beijing, stuff like that.

My first glimpse of a North Korean soldier. We're watching him and he's watching us.

Once Capt. Lawrence points him out, he hides for a bit, then returns without his binoculars. Or maybe it's another guy.

Bill Clinton called this "the scariest place on Earth," but on this day, it seems more like a good place to lay down a blanket and have a picnic. I'm surprised by the lack of tension. Birds chirp and there's a sense of calm knowing that aside from a couple of incidents -- the ax murders and the Soviet defector shootout -- not much has happened here for the past 60 years.

We're then taken to relatively isolated Observation Post 3, where we're surrounded on three sides by North Korean observation towers, including this one.

From here we can see the North Korean village of Kijong-Dong. Naturally, our hosts referred to it as "Propaganda Village" and insisted the town consisted of mere concrete shells, with lights timed to go on and off. A few people are employed to give the place the illusion of activity, they said, but basically it's a Potemkin village, just for show.

There's so much propaganda back and forth, I just tend to tune it out.

I thought a lot of these zoomed photos would look like shite, but once I put them through PicMonkey, they really came to life. This free photo-editing site carries Sluggh's recommendation.

Just to prove I was here. The NK flagpole is barely visible at right.

South Korean soldiers patrol near the military demarcation line. I guess it's not really a border, per se. This is where the Korean War settled into a kind of equilibrium, and both sides decided to take a 60-year break. A state of war still exists.

The Bridge of No Return. At the end of the active conflict, some 30,000 POWs from both sides were brought here and offered a choice of where they would like to live, North or South. Having made the decision, there was no going back. I can't believe they didn't let us off the bus for this. Totally lame.

Another in a parade of gift shops.

I admit buying some DMZ golf balls. The world's most dangerous golf hole, surrounded by mines, is supposed to be nearby, but we weren't shown it. Another demerit.

North Korean booze for sale.

Capt. Lawrence is an OK guy, I guess. He's in the fifth month of a yearlong deployment and confesses to being bored. My problem with him is he's a showman with little substance. He enjoys the attention he gets from tourists but offers them little in exchange.

Case in point: He had showed us an anti-tank barrier, rigged with explosives, that would block a road in the DMZ in the event of a North Korean invasion. (We weren't allowed to take pictures.)

"I'll now open it up to questions," he said.

Sluggh: "Are there anti-tank barriers on the highway to Seoul?"

Capt. Lawrence: "I can't talk about that."

American Woman with Hand Tattoo: "Can I take your picture?"

Capt. Lawrence: "There will be plenty of opportunities to take my picture, ma'am."

Sluggh: "If the North starts shooting, can the South respond unilaterally, or do those decisions need to be made jointly with their partners?"

Capt. Lawrence: " I can't talk about our rules of engagement."

Filipino Girl: "Will there be a gift shop at the Dorasan Train Station?"

Capt. Lawrence: "Yes, ma'am."

And on and on ...

We stop for dinner at an odd cafeteria, where we're presented with the rare opportunity of buying a North Korean beer for 10,000 won (about $9.25). I'll never get this chance again, so I spring. Better than anything I've had south of the line, for sure!

The pastries at lower left are a mind-check. I go back for thirds. I swear I've gained two and a half pounds on this trip. :)

On the hour ride back to Seoul, it becomes clear to me that these tidal flatlands to the west are viewed as a prime incursion threat. Observation posts, soldiers with M-15s and floodlights are everywhere for the next 40 miles.

If war ever does break out, it is a given that tens of thousands of Seoulites will die in the first few minutes. This war game has long been mapped out.

U.S. fighters scrambling from Japan and carriers in the region will take out North Korean artillery positions and turn Pyongyang into rubble. If the North is able to set off a nuclear device, I suspect the U.S. will react with restraint, and if not, China will enter the fray and life on Earth will be forever changed.

When you think of Seoul, try to imagine its venerable palaces and temples, it's cutting-edge financial and trading centers, its indoor driving ranges and hole-in-the-wall restaurants, its astonishingly vast arts and shopping scenes, and raise a glass. Few cities are in so much peril, and few need so much protection.