Until ten years ago, this site, like the rest of the ‘hermit kingdom,’ was closed to the outside world. You can no longer visit Geumgang-san – as of November 29th, it is closed again.

The South Korean government understandably suspended visits to the site after a tourist was shot in the back by North Korean soldiers there last July. Since then, North Korea has gone on to nationalize the capital investments made there by South Korean tourism companies. Most notably, the hotels, golf courses, and spas constructed by Hyundai over the past decade have been expropriated without challenge.

My own trip came before all of this, at the tail end of ten relatively stable years for the Geumgang-san venture between North Korea and South Korean companies. It appeared a success, and I told myself that Geumgang-san, along with another joint industrial project at Gaesong were great signs of progress for North Korea, capitalist inroads even.

My homestay family had organized the vacation, all that was required of me was a copy of my passport. Despite their assurances, I found myself restless on the eve of the trip. What risks was I exposing myself to by putting myself at the mercy of a totalitarian regime? While North Korean citizens were being shot attempting escape from the horrors of that country, I was walking in. Most disturbingly, aside from personal risk, I had to ask myself critically what I was supporting by patronizing tourism in North Korea.

Painfully aware that there was no Canadian embassy in North Korea, nor any form of international authority to appeal to should I run into trouble, I sent emails to friends and family letting them know where I’d be. Redundant, you say? The messages read something like don’t come looking for me if you don’t hear from me.

Several hours driving through the beautiful Ganghwan-do Province went by quickly, and as we approached the 38th parallel, I began to notice a definite military presence. The view of the sea from the highway became obscured by high barb-wired fences, intermittently placed guard posts, and heavily-armed squadrons of soldiers patrolled the shore.

During conversations with my homestay family, I was surprised to learn that grandfather’s hometown was the North Korean capital, Pyeongyang. Like thousands of others, he migrated to the South in search of a better life sometime prior to the border being sealed, leaving behind friends and family. To this day, he has no idea what has become of his brothers, sisters, or parents. Not surprisingly, he has visited North Korea frequently in the past ten years, hoping to catch a glimpse of a long-lost face.

My group – my homestay mother, father, grandfather, two children, and I – arrived at our hotel sometime in the evening, a condo on the South side from where we would head to Geumgang-san early the next morning. Our room offered a beautiful view of the East Sea, and I decided to sleep in the living room amidst the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore. After dipping my feet in the sea, a great meal prepared by my homestay mother, and a few beers (which helped somewhat to put me at ease), I settled down for a troubled sleep, tellingly interrupted by military naval spotlights searching the nearby sea.

The next morning I would be surrendering my freedom to gaze at a mountain…(to be continued)