The DMZ tour outside of Seoul was not as tense as I expected. In fact, it was far more sad than scary. Sure, we couldn’t wear heels or slip-ons in case we had to make a run for it, and we couldn’t point or make gestures to the North Korean/Democratic People’s Republic of Korea’s guards lest they misinterpret them and decide to take aim (well, that’s my guess as to why we couldn’t); still though, with all the American media stories about North Korea’s danger and the need for the country to dismantle its nuclear program, the area was not the electrically charged place I expected.
A large US Army helicopter easily came and went. An American soldier cheerfully greeted our South Korean/Republic of Korea veteran tour guide. The South Korean guards smiled for pictures with tourists. White cranes flew overhead on their way to feed in the rice paddies that are ever-so protected.
Sure, the straight-faced South Korean guards standing at the constant Tae Kwon Do stance creates a sense of how important the area is. As do the multiple passport checks and the miles and miles of barbed-wire fence. But as I stood at the Joint Security Area (jointly secured by US/South Korean troops on one side and North Korean on the other) in the DMZ and later Freedom Bridge (above), one of the bridges where prisoners of war were exchanged after the Korean War, with its messages for loved ones and hopes of reunification, I realized that the Demilitarized Zone isn’t a South Korean tourist spot because of its historical significance, or because they’ll get the thrill of being in “communist” Korea, or even because it’s the closest they may get to a war zone. But a large part of its popularity is being in a place where residents can recall the pain that exists from being a divided people.
