On the border

Tuesday morning, we rolled into Yanji (a town near the border of North Korea and China) at 4:30 AM. It was early, but it certainly wasn’t bright. We took a taxi down sleeping streets to the one open location: the 24 hour KFC. We “relaxed” in KFC for about an hour, and as the sun began to peek over the horizon went off in search of a hotel room. We landed in a reasonably priced place just about 50 yards from KFC that was willing to let us check in at 5:30 AM.

After a couple more hours of sleep, an early lunch (which didn’t feel so early considering we breakfasted at 4:30), and a much needed cup of coffee we hopped onto a bus to the nearby small city of Tumen, one of the cities directly on the border. The drive was surprisingly spectacular, as we coasted between hills ablaze with the hues of fall. A patchwork quilt of ascending and descending gold, burnt auburn and small bursts of crimson was a delight to us who on a regular basis see neither trees nor hills.

Upon arrival in Tumen, which though small was surprisingly clean and developed, we hopped in a cab for the quick jaunt across town to the border. What awaited us was a truly bizarre sight.

Standing and staring into a country that is for a large part closed off to the entire world is bizarre in and of itself. But significantly adding to the strangeness was the almost carnival atmosphere on the Chinese side of the border. A large public square, rimmed by glass pavilions boasting of modern architecture, was teeming with a dancing fountain, a large TV screen, music, and kids taking a rollerblading lesson.

One of those pavilions housed one of the nicest coffee shops I’ve seen in all of China.

Down on the river, the narrow gulf between nations, a large immobile boat dressed with colorful flags served as a dock for smaller tour boats.

Not people to pass up experiences, we decided to take our own riverside boat tour of the border.  And so we paced along the line of separation, trying to wrap our brains around where we were.

After our ride, we took to exploring by land, peering over the overgrown riverside brush into what we’ve been told is a fake city, built just for show. On a faraway bluff, we watched a few motorcyclists zoom along a winding road and mused about who they were and where they were going.

Passing through the modern pavilions on our way to grab a cab back to the bus station, we continued to shake our heads at the surreal experience. Shortly thereafter, we pulled away from the border town, greeted once again by the beauty of the changing hills dappled in the light of the setting sun, and with thoughts on a land so close, but in many ways so far away.