The Line Was White

I don't recall what year it was, perhaps 2011. I am sure I could look it up, but that really isn't the point. The point is, I visited the DMZ. A rarely visited place by all accounts. If you are not familiar, the DMZ is a strip of land that separates South and North Korea, lands separated by little distance but by vast ideology. ‘DMZ’ stands for demilitarized zone, but it is hardly that.

Land mines, armed guards, barbed wire.

The 38th parallel.

In my many travels, this is the creepiest place I have been. If there is a stranger place on earth, I would love to visit, for whatever reason.

When there, from wherever you stand, you could spit on either side. But you shouldn’t. 

I stepped foot inside the infamous ‘blue house’ (not sure that is the proper name) escorted by armed South Korean military members. There was a line drawn on the floor that ran up and through a table directly in the middle of the room. The border between the two Koreas.

The line was white. The line was distinct.

I, for whatever reason, was allowed to cross that line and step into North Korea, technically. That step felt strange. Dangerous. Not a place warm to outsiders. It was a wobbly step.

I was being watched by men with binoculars even though they were within a range where they likely did not need them. A show of force, if you can define that as force.

While there I felt as if anything could happen at any given time. I still feel as if that is true ten years later. If you have been there, you know that feeling.

There are many unique locations on earth that I have been lucky enough to visit, but I struggle to find one that better fits that description, unique.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)