The animated coastal city of Dalian, China seems moved drastically from the dull framework of the nearby North Korea. Tall hotels, large shopping malls, Ferris wheels, and opulent displays of a lighted city rise in the skyline above the bustling city.
A Tale of Two Worlds: Dalian’s Modernity vs. North Korea’s Hard Borders
In the span of an afternoon, you can ride go-karts on the beach, sip lattes at a cafe, and look across the river into one of the world’s most closed dictatorships. It is hard to think of another place you can experience such a dramatic change as quickly a locale as the Tumen River.
People here are splendidly kind—giving rides to hitchhikers, offering to share sushi from their homemade lunch in their Teslas, or providing access for traveler’s into the all neon heart of Dalian. Just a few short miles away is an entire area of strict military ideology, surveillance, and presence. It is this deep and palpable shift that makes visiting the Tumen River area of the China-North Korea border one of the most bizarre experiences for visitors.
Haggling, Trafficking, and Marketplaces at the Borders
At the marketplaces by the Yalu River, the stalls sell a curious collection of items: non-North Korean currency, Kim Il Song lapel pins, etc., all sorts of Soviet collectible trinkets, and outlandish magnetic propaganda waving spools of American soldiers trampled by the People’s Army. There are even a few fair binoculars for us to peer into the Hermit Kingdom 3 meters away at times.
What we see on the surface is traffic support smuggling. Many cigarettes, alcohol, and possibly/likely human trafficking flow through these marketplaces. The guards on either side sometimes work together and make even more money when ferrying defectors trying to leave as necessary as trade and commerce goes back to tradition once the barb of ideology is removed from legality.
From the 1st Class flight and feeling guilty to Ferris wheels that are rusty
The travel starts off gloriously… or distraught. The 1st class trip of intensive luxury gives you a blanket, a flimsy cup of orange juice, and the discomfort of knowing you don’t deserve such a luxurious experience. Days later, you are enjoying North Korean decayed infrastructure through binoculars of your hotel viewing encouragement of similar images where Ferris wheels do not spin, water parks are frozen in time, and memorializing monuments remember “meaningless victories” over the Americans.
This absurdly volatile emotional rollercoaster never stops: the other evening, I was relaxing in the spa of a five-star hotel in Dalian – the next night I was coming face to face with a police checkpoint.
China’s Great Wall at its Overlooked Eastern Edge
When we think of the Great Wall of China, we picture congested trails packed with people in and around Beijing, but the far eastern edge – near North Korea – bears little resemblance. In this area the steeply reconstructed walls zigzag into fields of amber leaves and periodically serve as watchtowers for the Korean mountains.
On the slope of these steep declines are open views for remarkable looks into the Hermit Kingdom – dirt farm roads, hodge podge outlying subsistence farms, and military installations. You can almost feel the ideologies in the air you bated breath amidst the oppressive pitches of war propaganda music, echoing over the hills from the other side of the border, celebrating the Kim dynasty in the same way hymns honored kings.
Unlike in Beijing, where the Wall invites tourists to take selfies, in this part of the world the Wall is a barrier; no longer to the Mongols centuries ago, but a barrier to the more serious flow of defectors, ideas and freedom in the present.
Holes in Fences and the Absurdities of the Border
What’s one of the strangest things I learned about? There are holes in the fences, an actual unlocked door, to step over the China-North Korea border. Between all the guards and barbed wire warning signs it felt absurdly bizarre. If you step forward– from the Chinese side– you are in North Korea. If you step back– you are in the “safe” zone.
The blending of strict enforcement and absurd loopholes are so characteristic of these border zones. “For your family’s happiness, do not cross,” says a sign–not as a threat, but rather an appeal to some kind of loyalty to family. That seems like a poem version of enforcement, and one that is perhaps justified, given the harshness of customary border enforcement.
Singing, Dancing, and Nationalism Along the River
As part of these displays cultural displays tourists observe bizarre cultural displays along the river front. You will see choirs of older locals singing revolutionary songs, little stalls selling red books of Mao’s philosophy, a karaoke machine belting out Communist songs, and stalls filled with liquor bottles in the shape of nuclear warheads.
It was a curious combination of theme park nationalism mixed with an absurdity evoking the real deal: propaganda music on one side and real North Korean guard towers just over there.
Abandoned Mega-Projects and Empty Towns:
Of course, China is distinct in their “ghost cities,” and incomplete infrastructure. Dandong—the main border town that borders North Korea—was also responsible. There has been one giant unfinished bridge to North Korea that still sits silently hanging over the river and the $10 billion yuan that spent there will have to rust in the air there after nuclear testing began again and international sanctions were back in place. The original purpose of these billions of yuan—much to do with diplomacy—never really had a congruently straightforward purpose afterward.
As we go down the riverside, there are dead “new towns” that have only been half-completed being eerily silent, aside from the handful of glowing apartments at night, which have been designed to promote commerce between “the two great communist nations,” and are now sites of modern ruins and empty visions of geopolitical changes of the future.
Everyday Encounters: Humanity at the Edge
Despite the politics involved, human happiness is real:
- Groups of elderly men sunbathing shirtless and laughing among themselves on Dalian beaches.
- A Ghanaian man, who has built a life in China, gives rides like an old friend.
- Children shout “Hello!” as loudly as possible at any foreigner, confirming curiosity transcends ideology.
- Locals will insist on newcomers eating homemade sushi, or having the awkwardness of a cultural gift like sea stars after a trip on a boat.
It is these kinds of interactions that break through and remind travelers how important it is to get outside of the beaten path. Governments may separate us; people connect us.
Tourism Meets Surveillance
The further you get into the frontier, the closer you are to authority. Chinese police check hotels for foreigners, and officers shout for people to stop if the officer sees cameras recording checkpoints. Travelers are reminded to not photograph “military installations,” even from public streets. Ordinary Chinese visitors can move freely, but foreigners are always suspect spies.
This two-tiered system demonstrates that control operates differently depending on your nationality. Surveillance in the end is about perception, not security.
On the Brink of Liberty and Order
Traveling to the China–North Korea border is perhaps the most surreal travel experience on our planet. It’s the place where billion-dollar bridges lead nowhere, and where propaganda reverberates over rivers, where fences have gates, and where kindness exists even among watchtowers.
You experience the excess of Dalian hotels and the stark emptiness of abandoned new cities, the singing of karaoke choirs and the presence of police vans, forcing you to confront stark oppositions—that of open and controlled, rich and poor, performance and reality.
Finally, border travel here is not about the scenic views—it is about seeing ideology influence a landscape, an infrastructure, and even human beings. And that is what makes the trips from Dalian to North Korea, and border travel itself, both moving and memorable in ways that a sanitized tourist experience cannot offer.
