A Journey Into the World's Most Secretive Nation

North Korea:

A Journey Into the World's Most Secretive Nation

There are very few places on Earth that stir the imagination quite like North Korea. In 2007, I had the rare opportunity to visit one of the world's most isolated and tightly controlled countries, beginning the journey with a flight that was an experience in itself.

Leaving Beijing, I boarded an Air Koryo flight bound for Pyongyang. North Korea's state-owned airline is the country's only commercial carrier and, at the time, already had a reputation unlike any other airline in the world. Much of its fleet consisted of ageing Soviet-built aircraft, many dating back to the Cold War. Air Koryo has long been the only airline prohibited from operating within the European Union because of safety concerns relating to much of its fleet, although some of its newer aircraft have since met international standards.

As the aircraft climbed away from Beijing, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. There was no in-flight entertainment, no glossy magazine advertising holiday destinations and very little of the bustle you would expect on a modern commercial flight. Instead, there was a strange sense of anticipation. Every passenger knew they were travelling somewhere very few people ever get to see.

Landing at Pyongyang Sunan International Airport felt like arriving in another world. Formalities were thorough, luggage was carefully inspected, and from the moment I stepped outside the terminal it became obvious that this was unlike any country I had ever visited. Modern life seemed to stop at the border. From there, every part of my visit would be carefully managed by government guides, offering a rare glimpse inside one of the world's most secretive nations.

Although organised tours had been operating for many years, relatively few Western travellers had the opportunity to visit North Korea in 2007. Tourism was tightly controlled, visas were only issued through approved operators, and independent travel was impossible. Every visitor followed a carefully planned itinerary under the supervision of official guides, with photography and movement subject to strict rules. Looking back, I realise just how fortunate I was to experience the country during that period. In the years that followed, international tensions increased, tourism became even more restricted, and for long periods the country closed its borders altogether. It makes my journey all the more remarkable, offering a rare snapshot of North Korea before many of those changes took place.

Pyongyang itself was unlike any capital city I had experienced. Immense boulevards stretched into the distance with surprisingly little traffic, while towering monuments and grand government buildings dominated the skyline. The streets were immaculate, almost unnaturally so, and there was an eerie quietness that made the city feel both impressive and strangely surreal.

One of the first things I noticed was the overwhelming sense of order. Everything appeared choreographed. Photography was tightly controlled, with our guides explaining exactly where cameras could and could not be pointed. Even photographs of statues had to include the entire monument as a mark of respect. It quickly became clear that every visitor was being shown a carefully managed version of the country.

Standing in Kim Il Sung Square, the vast ceremonial heart of Pyongyang, gave a real appreciation for the scale of North Korea's state events. Looking across the enormous open space, it was easy to imagine the military parades broadcast around the world, with thousands of soldiers marching in perfect formation beneath portraits of the country's leaders.

Another unforgettable visit was to the Kumsusan Memorial Palace, where Kim Il Sung lies in state. I was privileged to be granted access to this highly restricted and symbolic site, an invitation extended to very few foreign visitors. The atmosphere inside was one of complete silence and absolute formality. Visitors passed through long marble corridors before entering the vast hall where Kim Il Sung's embalmed body rests in a glass sarcophagus. Under the watchful eyes of attendants, we were required to bow respectfully on three sides of the bier, following strict protocols observed by every visitor. Whether you agreed with the politics or not, it was impossible not to appreciate the immense significance the palace holds within North Korean society. It was one of the most surreal and memorable moments of my journey, offering a rare glimpse into the extraordinary reverence surrounding the country's founding leader.

Standing at the Edge of the Korean War

Perhaps the most thought-provoking experience of the entire journey was visiting the Demilitarised Zone (DMZ) at Panmunjom.

Although the fighting stopped in 1953 with the signing of an armistice, the Korean War has never officially ended. Standing at the border, only metres from South Korea, was a sobering reminder that the conflict technically continues to this day.

The atmosphere was unlike anywhere else I have visited. On the surface it appeared calm, almost peaceful, yet beneath that calm lay decades of political tension. Soldiers from both North and South Korea stood watch, separated by one of the most heavily fortified borders on the planet.

Inside the blue conference buildings that straddle the Military Demarcation Line, it was possible to stand just a few steps away from South Korean territory. It was an extraordinary feeling, knowing that only a narrow line painted across the floor divided two nations whose paths had diverged so dramatically over the previous half century.

The guides naturally presented the North Korean interpretation of events surrounding the Korean War and the continuing division of the peninsula. Whether one agreed with that narrative or not, it was fascinating to hear how history is taught from the other side of the border.

Aboard the USS Pueblo

Another experience that has remained with me ever since was stepping aboard the USS Pueblo, the American intelligence-gathering ship captured by North Korea in January 1968.

Moored on the banks of the Taedong River in Pyongyang, the vessel is presented not simply as a museum, but as a symbol of what North Korea describes as one of its greatest military victories over the United States. It is the only commissioned U.S. Navy ship still being held by a foreign government.

Walking up the gangway was surreal. Here was an American naval vessel, complete with its original equipment, permanently displayed hundreds of miles from home. Inside, much of the ship has been preserved, with communications equipment, radar rooms, cramped living quarters and intelligence spaces still on display.

The tour focused heavily on North Korea's version of the events of 23 January 1968, when the ship was intercepted off the country's east coast near Wonsan. Visitors are shown photographs, documents and exhibits describing the capture of the vessel and the subsequent imprisonment of its crew.

Knowing the wider history adds another dimension. During the incident, crew member Duane Hodges was killed, while the remaining 82 sailors were held captive for almost eleven months. They endured interrogations, beatings and harsh treatment before eventually being released across the "Bridge of No Return" in December 1968. The United States has never accepted North Korea's justification for seizing the ship, and the incident remains one of the most significant confrontations of the Cold War.

Walking through its narrow passageways, it was impossible not to think about the men who had lived and worked aboard under extraordinary circumstances. Regardless of politics, the ship stands as a tangible reminder of how close Cold War tensions came to direct military conflict.

Close to the USS Pueblo was another exhibit that immediately caught my attention—a captured American unmanned underwater vehicle (UUV). Displayed as a trophy of national defence, the drone was presented by North Korean officials as evidence of what they claimed was another attempt to gather intelligence inside their territorial waters. Whether viewed through the lens of military technology or political propaganda, it served as a stark reminder that the intelligence struggle between North Korea and the outside world has continued long after the Cold War. Standing beside both the Pueblo and the captured underwater drone, it was impossible not to reflect on how espionage has shaped the history of the Korean Peninsula for decades.

Another place that left a lasting impression was the Taesongsan Revolutionary Martyrs' Cemetery, set high on the slopes of Mount Taesong overlooking Pyongyang. The immaculately maintained cemetery is the final resting place of many of North Korea's revolutionary figures, military leaders and those regarded as heroes of the state. Rows of bronze busts line the hillside, each facing out across the capital they helped shape according to the country's official history. The site was peaceful and beautifully kept, yet carried an unmistakable sense of solemnity. As with many of the places I visited, the experience offered a fascinating insight into how North Korea honours its past and reinforces the revolutionary ideals that continue to underpin the nation today.

One of the most fascinating parts of my visit was travelling on the Pyongyang Metro, widely regarded as one of the deepest underground railway systems in the world. Built to double as a nuclear shelter, its stations lie deep beneath the city and are reached by remarkably long escalators. The platforms are decorated with grand chandeliers, polished marble, ornate mosaics and socialist artwork, giving them the appearance of underground palaces rather than ordinary railway stations. Travelling beneath the streets of Pyongyang was a memorable experience and offered another glimpse into the scale and ambition of North Korea's Cold War infrastructure.

One of the more peaceful moments of my journey came during a visit to Pohyonsa (Pohyon Temple), nestled in the foothills of Mount Myohyang. Founded over a thousand years ago during the Koryo Dynasty, the temple is one of North Korea's most important Buddhist sites and provides a striking contrast to the monumental architecture and political symbolism found elsewhere in the country. Surrounded by wooded mountains and tranquil streams, its beautifully restored wooden halls, traditional tiled roofs and quiet courtyards created an atmosphere of calm that was unlike anywhere else I visited. Walking through the temple grounds offered a rare glimpse into North Korea's rich cultural and religious heritage, reminding me that beyond the country's modern political identity lies a history stretching back many centuries.

Another significant stop on my journey was the Mangyongdae Native House, the traditional home where Kim Il Sung was born in 1912. Set within a peaceful rural setting on the outskirts of Pyongyang, the modest thatched farmhouse has been carefully preserved and is regarded as one of North Korea's most important historical sites. Walking through the simple buildings and surrounding grounds, it was easy to see how the birthplace has become a place of national pilgrimage. Regardless of one's views on North Korea's political system, the site provides an insight into the origins of the country's founding leader and the central role his life story continues to play in the nation's identity and official history.

Glimpses Behind the Curtain

Away from the official monuments, there were occasional glimpses of ordinary life. Farmers worked the fields using machinery that seemed decades old, children cycled along quiet roads, and people waited patiently for trams beneath portraits of the country's leaders. These brief moments felt more authentic than the grand monuments and military displays, offering a small window into everyday life beyond the carefully prepared itinerary.

As a photographer and someone fascinated by history, I found North Korea endlessly intriguing. The architecture remained rooted in the Cold War, with enormous apartment blocks, monumental public buildings and statues dominating the landscape. Much of it felt frozen in time. Throughout my journey across North Korea, I visited a remarkable collection of monuments, memorials and grand public squares, each carefully designed to celebrate the country's revolutionary history and the leadership of the Kim dynasty.

Their sheer scale was unlike anything I had experienced elsewhere. Towering bronze statues, vast stone memorials and enormous mosaics dominated the skyline, each carrying a powerful political message. Among the most memorable were the monumental bronze statues overlooking Pyongyang, where visitors quietly gathered to lay flowers and bow in respect. Nearby, the Tower of the Juche Idea rose high above the Taedong River, its distinctive stone column symbolising the state's philosophy of self-reliance. Standing at its base, I was struck by the scale of the monument and the commanding views across the capital.

Equally impressive was the Monument to Party Founding, with its enormous hammer, sickle and calligraphy brush rising into the sky, representing workers, farmers and intellectuals united under the Workers' Party of Korea. At the Victorious Fatherland Liberation War Museum, military monuments, captured equipment and memorials presented North Korea's interpretation of the Korean War, while nearby memorials honoured soldiers and revolutionary figures who are regarded as national heroes. Every monument I visited was immaculately maintained, with spotless pathways, carefully tended gardens and an atmosphere of quiet respect. Many were set against dramatic backdrops of mountains or broad public squares, making them feel even more imposing. Regardless of political opinion, they offered a fascinating insight into how North Korea presents its own history and national identity.

Together they formed an unforgettable part of my journey, revealing a country where history, ideology and monumental architecture are woven into almost every corner of public life.Yet it was also impossible to forget that visitors only see what the authorities choose to reveal. The carefully planned routes, constant supervision and restrictions on photography served as a constant reminder that this was not an ordinary tourist destination. Looking back on my visit today, it remains one of the most remarkable journeys I have ever undertaken. Few places challenge your perceptions quite like North Korea.

It is a country of contradictions—grand yet austere, welcoming yet tightly controlled, fascinating yet deeply unsettling. Nearly twenty years later, I still remember standing at the DMZ, looking across into South Korea, and later walking the decks of the USS Pueblo. Those two experiences alone brought the Cold War into sharp focus in a way that no book, documentary or museum ever could. They transformed history from something I had read about into something I had quite literally stood inside, making my journey to North Korea one that I will never forget.

One of the most impressive engineering projects I visited was the West Sea Barrage, also known as the Nampo Sea Barrage, an enormous tidal barrier stretching approximately eight kilometres across the mouth of the Taedong River near the port city of Nampo. Completed in 1986, the vast structure combines locks, sluice gates and road links to control tidal flooding, prevent saltwater from entering inland farmland and provide a reliable supply of fresh water for agriculture and industry. Standing on the barrage, I was struck by the sheer scale of the project. Looking out across the Yellow Sea on one side and the calm waters of the Taedong River on the other, it was easy to appreciate why North Korea regards the barrage as one of its greatest engineering achievements. Whether viewed as a remarkable feat of civil engineering or a symbol of national ambition, it was another fascinating glimpse into the country's determination to reshape its landscape.

Reflections on an Extraordinary Journey

Looking back on my visit to North Korea in 2007, I realise just how extraordinary the experience truly was. Few destinations have left such a lasting impression on me. From flying aboard Air Koryo into one of the world's most isolated nations to standing at the Demilitarised Zone where the Korean War remains technically unresolved, every day revealed another layer of a country that continues to fascinate and divide opinion.

During my journey I explored the grand boulevards of Pyongyang, descended into the remarkable underground metro, stood before towering monuments, visited ancient Buddhist temples, crossed the vast West Sea Barrage, walked through revolutionary memorials, toured the USS Pueblo, viewed the captured unmanned underwater vehicle, and was honoured to enter the Kumsusan Memorial Palace to pay my respects before the preserved body of Kim Il Sung. Each location offered a different perspective on North Korea's history, ideology and culture.

Although every part of the visit was carefully managed, I never lost sight of the fact that I was witnessing a country that very few people from the West had experienced at that time. I wasn't searching for political answers or passing judgement; I simply wanted to see North Korea with my own eyes. As a photographer and writer, there is no substitute for standing in a place, observing it firsthand and forming your own impressions.

My "Guides"

Nearly two decades have passed since that journey, yet the memories remain as vivid as ever. North Korea is a country of contrasts—beautiful landscapes set against monumental architecture, ancient traditions alongside Cold War relics, and moments of genuine tranquillity within one of the world's most tightly controlled societies. Whether viewed through the lens of history, politics or travel, it remains one of the most remarkable places I have ever visited.

For me, this was far more than simply ticking another country off a map. It was an opportunity to step inside one of the world's greatest enigmas and experience, however briefly, a nation that few outsiders have been privileged to witness. It is a journey I will never forget.

By Daren Frankish

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