I spend most of my life staring at numbers.
My days are a cycle of earnings calls, yield curves and anxious glances at the clock in London, New York and Hong Kong. When my wife suggested a week in Seoul as a way to “see something other than candlesticks,” I thought I’d end up mostly in cafés with decent Wi-Fi.
Instead, I found myself standing a few dozen kilometres from one of the most heavily fortified borders in the world – the Korean Demilitarised Zone.


Planning the visit
Coming from Europe, I’d vaguely followed headlines about the Korean Peninsula but never really grasped how the conflict had never formally ended. While researching our trip, I learned that you can’t just hop in a taxi and go to the DMZ by yourself – you must join an organised tour because it’s a controlled military area with security checks and restricted access.
The itineraries all looked similar: an early departure from Seoul, stops at Imjingak Park, the Bridge of Freedom, the Third Infiltration Tunnel, Dora Observatory and, depending on current security conditions, sometimes the Joint Security Area – the iconic spot where soldiers from both Koreas stand facing each other across a thin line. Those JSA visits have been limited and occasionally suspended for ordinary tourists in recent years, so I didn’t plan around it too much.
In the end, I reserved our spots online through dmztours.com. It felt more like booking a time slot than “signing up with a particular company”, which suited me. I wanted the experience, not a brand.

Leaving Seoul: an hour that says a lot
We were picked up just after 7 a.m. in central Seoul. The city was still rubbing its eyes; commuters with iced coffees, teenagers in uniforms, the usual metropolitan hum.
As the coach pulled out, the skyline softened into apartment blocks, then low-rise towns, then fields. About an hour later, the motorways gained barbed-wire fences along the river, with watchtowers intermittently breaking the horizon. It’s a jarring sight – not threatening, exactly, but a visual reminder that this isn’t just another countryside day trip.
Our guide – a soft-spoken Korean man in his thirties who somehow managed to mix dry humour with sobering facts – explained the basics of the armistice, the width of the DMZ and what we were allowed (and not allowed) to photograph.

Imjingak Park: history in the open air
The first major stop was Imjingak Park, a sort of open-air memorial complex just short of the actual military boundary. It’s full of symbols: a rusted steam locomotive riddled with bullet holes, colourful ribbons tied to fences with messages for separated families, and the Bridge of Freedom, once used by prisoners of war returning home.
As a Londoner, my mental reference point for division has always been the Berlin Wall. Imjingak feels different. There’s more space, more sky, and a sense that this isn’t a chapter that closed; it’s a page still half-written. Families posed for photos; kids chased each other around the monuments. I caught myself thinking how strange it is that a frontline of the Cold War is now, in part, a family park.

The Third Infiltration Tunnel: history you physically feel
Next came the Third Infiltration Tunnel, and this is where the visit stopped being abstract. After leaving our bags and cameras in lockers, we were given helmets and sent down a steep, concrete passageway that feels more like a mine shaft than a tourist attraction.
The air grew cooler, the ceiling lower. Anyone taller than average will be grateful for the helmet. The walk is not long but it’s steep, and people with mobility issues would find it challenging. Guides consistently emphasise the need for comfortable shoes and a basic level of fitness – it’s not a long hike, but it’s not a gentle museum stroll either.
At the bottom, the cramped stone tunnel leads towards the Military Demarcation Line. Several concrete barricades block the way, each with small gaps where you can peer through. You don’t see much – just the rough rock and heavy doors – but the whole experience lands with more force than any diagram could. For me, it felt like stepping into a piece of unfinished business the world never quite resolved.

Dora Observatory & Dorasan Station: looking across
After the tunnel we drove to Dora Observatory, where telescopes point across the DMZ into North Korea. On a clear day you can see a model village with a large flagpole, fields, and the faint outline of roads. It all looks oddly ordinary at this distance, which is probably what stayed with me most: how normality and tension can sit right next to each other.
Nearby is Dorasan Station, a modern railway station that symbolically represents a hoped-for reconnection between North and South. Trains don’t currently run through to the North, but you can stand on the platform and imagine what it would mean if they did.


How it actually felt
I’d gone expecting a more obviously dramatic experience – uniforms, stern warnings, something out of a film. Instead, the atmosphere was quietly serious. Yes, there are soldiers and checkpoints. Yes, photography is restricted in certain areas. But within those boundaries, the day is surprisingly calm and controlled. I never felt unsafe; if anything, it was more structured than many European historical sites I’ve visited.
The real impact wasn’t adrenaline; it was reflection. As someone whose work revolves around risk – political risk, market risk, the whole alphabet soup – it was humbling to be reminded that for millions of Koreans, risk isn’t a line on a spreadsheet; it’s a family history.

Practical notes for fellow Europeans
If you’re thinking of coming from Europe and fitting a DMZ visit into a Korea itinerary, here’s what I wish I’d known:
- You must bring your passport. It’s checked before you approach the restricted zones, and forgetting it can mean being turned away on the day.
- Book in advance. Tours can fill up quickly, especially around weekends and holidays.
- Don’t obsess over the JSA. Access to the Joint Security Area has been limited and sometimes paused after security incidents; most standard tours focus instead on Imjingak, the tunnel and observatories, which already give you a powerful sense of place.
- Dress practically. Trainers, layers and nothing too flashy or provocative. It’s not the place for statement outfits.
- Listen to your guide. The rules are straightforward, but you really do need to follow them – especially around photography and where you can stand or walk.


Would I recommend it? Absolutely – but not as a “bucket-list thrill.” If anything, it’s the opposite: a sober, structured day that forces you to slow down and think.
For someone who spends most days chasing the next earnings call, that might have been the most valuable part.