Yeonmijeong Pavilion, a 13th-century stone and wood structure at the northeastern edge of Ganghwado Island, is my favorite destination when I go on occasional excursions from my new home in Gimpo.

It awaits visitors inside a walled “dondae,” one of the watch posts lining the coasts of the strategically important Ganghwa Island since the Goryeo Dynasty (918-1392). Yeonmi means swallow’s tail and perhaps whoever named the elegant building had been reminded of the image of a flying migratory bird when observing the geography of the area where water and land cross each other.

The Hangang and Imjingang rivers converge there to create a delta. Farther on the waters split again into the West Sea and a narrow strait between Ganghwado and the mainland. When appreciating the scenery in the area, a breeze often rises from all directions to dry the sweat from your face, at the same time stirring the leaves of the two big, old zelkova trees that flank the pavilion.

Ganghwado is one of the most war-ravaged parts of the Korean territory, suffering invasions by Mongols, Japanese, Manchus, Frenchmen and Americans from the 13th to 19th century. Hence the rugged fate of Yeonmijeong, which has been destroyed and rebuilt time and time again. Nine of its 10 granite pillars miraculously remained intact, preserving the ancient aesthetics of the pavilion.

Just below the old wall, ROK Marines patrol the shore as, perhaps, Goryo soldiers might have done long ago.

From Yeonmijeong, North Korea is a stone’s throw away. The proximity of the Northern territory gives observers an extremely tantalizing feeling. It makes one wish that there was a bridge – like those over the Hangang River – so that you could walk the 2 kilometers into the now forbidden land.

To the east, the two Koreas are separated by the 4-kilometer-wide strip of land called the Demilitarized Zone -- 2 kilometers each to the North and the South from the Military Demarcation Line. Civilian access limits are pulled back farther south in most parts of the border, so your view of the northern land is very dim even with the aid of telescope.

At Yeonmijeong, North Korea looks so close and clear that you feel like shouting out to anyone over there. Unfortunately, no one is in sight in the paddy field, in the yards of the uniform three-storied houses or in the meandering footpaths through the low hills.

Maybe the peasants are away on some public projects under the “Mallima (10,000-ri running horse)” campaign to increase production, which is now being conducted under the decision of the recent seventh Workers’ Party Congress.

It is so eerie to see no civilians or even soldiers in the entire 180-degree view. Should I then suspect some kind of off-limits zone being in force along the Northern coasts to prevent a flight to the South? Maybe next time I might be able to watch some people in the field on a rice-transplanting “combat.”

There are a few more vantage points in the Gimpo and Ganghwa areas where you can have a look at North Korea. Aegibong in Gimpo offers a similar view as Yeonmijeong. This Marine Corps outpost was in the news when Pyongyang hysterically reacted to the lighting of a Christmas tree there. The psychological warfare activities are on hold these days with the military authorities working on a renewal of obsolete facilities.

Some 15 kilometers away by car from Yeonmijeong on Ganghwado Island is the Peace Observatory, which overlooks Gaepung County of the North. Established by the local government of Ganghwa County, it has amenities for visitors. Your North Korea observation tour may then be extended to Gyodongdo Island lying between the western end of Ganghwado Island and the North Korean coast.

For certain strategic needs as well as for the convenience of the islanders, a 3.4 kilometer cable-stayed bridge was completed in 2014 between the two islands. Gyodongdo Island is heavily guarded by Marines, and civilians are required to get a pass to cross the bridge. However, once on the island, you can go to Manghyangdae Hill which offers a vast view of the North Korean coastal fields and hills, way up to the ridges of Mount Songaksan behind Gaeseong City.

At any of these observation posts along the Hangang estuary, viewers will instantly realize the barrenness of the country they behold: deforested hills, no vinyl houses or shade screens to grow cash crops, no machines like cultivators, and no people. Like location sets, apartments stand quietly at a distance from squares of rearranged farmland.

Onlookers will wonder if they are being faced with an illusion, raising the question that the view might be a great work of camouflage to trick viewers into forgetting about North Korea’s existence as the world’s most dangerous possessor of weapons of mass destruction under a bellicose, provocative leadership. 

In any case, it is sometimes difficult to associate the panorama across the waters that border the two Koreas with the pompous scenes of arms paraded on Pyongyang’s Kim Il-sung Plaza.

Both sights are real, although the procession of huge missiles could include some dummies and the massive crowd comprises individuals of varying degrees of loyalty.

And the great discrepancy between what is seen and the actual situation in the North raises one serious question about it: sustainability.

At its party congress earlier this month, the North resolved to pursue nuclear armament and economic development as parallel state goals. However, these are two goals that cannot be pursued at the same time. After all, if you chase two rabbits you will lose them both.

International surveyors put the North’s annual gross domestic product growth rate at around 1 percent over the past few years, from some $40 billion ($33.6 million) in 2013, based on estimated purchasing power parity, or roughly one-thirtieth of the South’s. Unless Pyongyang gives up its weapons of mass destruction to concentrate on providing rice and meat for its people, the disparity will widen.

From Yeonmijeong and the other observatories, one can also see the skylines of the urbanized Gimpo and Ilsan areas to the south. This means that North Koreans in coastal areas can also have a glimpse of the South. Looking at the mirage between the southern valleys, they might wonder what the great achievements -- making nuclear bombs and intercontinental missiles -- of Kim Jong-un over the past four years have done in helping the communist regime catch up with the South.

The world asks: How far or how long Pyongyang can go on like this?

The answer lies in the fable of the frog who tried so hard to impress that he inflated his stomach till it burst.

By Kim Myong-sik

Kim Myong-sik is a former editorial writer for The Korea Herald. He can be reached at kmyongsik@hanmail.net – Ed.