Inside Kaesong's UNESCO Sites: North Korea's Ancient Capital Revealed

Let's address the elephant in the room – visiting North Korea isn't your typical holiday booking. After three previous failed attempts (twice due to political tensions and once to COVID), I finally made it through on a specialized cultural tour focusing on the country's UNESCO sites.

The journey begins in Beijing, where I joined a group organized through Koryo Tours, one of the few western companies with permission to operate in the DPRK. After a mandatory briefing covering the strict dos and don'ts (no photos of military, no folding money with leaders' faces, absolutely no wandering off alone), we boarded Air Koryo's vintage Soviet aircraft for the flight to Pyongyang.

From there, it's a 2-hour drive south to Kaesong on surprisingly decent highways, though largely empty of traffic. The landscape transitions from Pyongyang's monumental architecture to rolling hills and eventually the more traditional cityscape of Kaesong, sitting near the DMZ.

As a builder who's worked on historical restorations, I came prepared with my Moleskine sketchbook and architectural reference materials. While photography is restricted and supervised, sketching is often permitted with less scrutiny – a technique I've used to document construction details in sensitive sites worldwide.

Kaesong's UNESCO designation covers a collection of 12 separate components, each showcasing aspects of the Koryo Dynasty (918-1392 CE) when this city served as Korea's capital. What struck me immediately was the exceptional preservation of wooden structures that have survived centuries of war and weather.

The Koryo Museum (housed in the former Songgyungwan Confucian Academy) became my daily study site. As someone who's worked on restoring colonial buildings in Laredo, I was fascinated by the ingenious joinery systems used in these structures. The Koreans developed a complex interlocking bracket system called gongpo that distributes weight without nails – similar in concept but distinct from Japanese and Chinese methods.

I spent hours examining the precisely cut wooden joints supporting the massive tiled roofs. Our guides, initially suspicious of my focused attention on structural elements, warmed up when I explained my professional background. Soon enough, one of them was proudly showing me how the buildings had survived earthquakes through flexible joinery that allows movement during seismic events.

The academy's layout follows strict Confucian principles of symmetry and hierarchy – concepts I've seen echoed in sacred buildings worldwide but executed here with distinctive Korean flair. The restoration work is impressive, though I noticed some modern materials subtly integrated into repairs – a pragmatic approach I've used myself when original materials are unavailable.

For those interested in architectural photography, I found my compact travel tripod invaluable for capturing the intricate ceiling details in low light conditions, though always ask guides for permission before setting up equipment.

The Royal Tombs of the Koryo Dynasty scattered across Kaesong's outskirts present a different kind of architectural marvel – one focused on permanence rather than the flexibility I observed in the wooden structures.

The most impressive is King Kongmin's Tomb, a pair of massive burial mounds for the 31st Koryo ruler and his Mongolian wife. As a builder, what fascinated me was the precision stonework of the retaining walls and staircases. These perfectly fitted granite blocks have remained aligned for over 600 years without mortar – a testament to the master stonecutters who created them.

I've worked with stone in restoration projects, and achieving this level of precision is extraordinarily difficult even with modern tools. The Koryo craftsmen used a combination of mathematical layout and hand-finishing techniques that created such tight joints that not even a knife blade can slip between stones.

The tombs' location was selected using traditional pungsu principles (similar to Chinese feng shui), nestled against a protective mountain with clear views across the valley. This integration of architecture with landscape is something I've studied in temple design across Southeast Asia, but here it takes on a distinctly Korean character.

Around the tombs stand stone guardians and officials – representations of the court that would serve the king in the afterlife. The weathering patterns on these figures tell stories of centuries exposed to Korea's harsh seasonal climate, yet their expressions remain stoic and dignified.

I spent an entire afternoon sketching the construction sequence I believe was used to create these tombs, from foundation preparation to the final placement of guardian figures. My waterproof field notebook proved invaluable during an unexpected spring shower that caught our group halfway through exploring the site.

While most North Korean tourism involves staying in modern, somewhat sterile hotels, Kaesong offers a rare exception – the Folk Hotel (Minsok Hotel), comprised of traditional Korean hanok houses arranged around courtyards. This wasn't just accommodation; it was a living architectural exhibit.

Each building in the complex is an authentic traditional Korean house, supposedly relocated from various parts of the region. As someone who's worked on historical relocations, I immediately began looking for evidence of this – finding telltale signs of disassembly and reconstruction in the wooden frames.

The rooms feature heated ondol floors, a traditional Korean underfloor heating system that predates modern radiant heating by centuries. Sleeping on the warm floor mats gave me insight into how these buildings functioned as complete environmental systems, using minimal fuel to maintain comfort through bitter Korean winters.

The most fascinating aspect for a builder was examining how the ondol system works. Hot air from a kitchen fire is channeled through stone flues beneath the floor before exiting through chimneys. It's remarkably efficient and creates a gentle, even heat. I spent one evening sketching the system's components after convincing our guide to show me the service areas normally off-limits to tourists.

While the accommodations are basic by western standards (shared bathrooms, firm floor mats for sleeping), they offer an unparalleled opportunity to experience historical Korean architecture as a living environment rather than just a museum piece. The property's gardens feature traditional layouts with carefully placed stones and native plants that complement the buildings.

Dinner at the Folk Hotel was served in a communal dining room, where we sat cross-legged on floor cushions while sampling local Kaesong specialties, including the famous Kaesong koryo insam (ginseng) products and a sweet rice drink that paired surprisingly well with the region's robust flavors.

Visiting North Korea means navigating a carefully choreographed experience. As someone who's traveled to over 40 countries documenting traditional construction techniques, I've developed strategies for finding authentic moments even in tightly controlled environments.

In Kaesong, these moments came through shared appreciation of craftsmanship. When I showed genuine interest in building techniques, our guides often went off-script, revealing deeper knowledge and personal connections to these historic sites.

One memorable exchange happened at Pakyon Waterfall outside Kaesong. While the group focused on the scenic view, I noticed an elderly groundskeeper repairing a traditional stone wall using techniques I recognized from New Zealand's early colonial structures. Despite our language barrier, we spent twenty minutes communicating through gestures about proper stone placement and balance. His weathered hands demonstrated techniques passed down through generations – the universal language of builders transcending political boundaries.

Another authentic connection came through sharing my own heritage. When I showed photos of Māori meeting houses and explained their construction methods, our guides became genuinely curious. This cultural exchange opened doors to more candid conversations about preservation challenges facing Kaesong's historic sites.

The city's Namdae Gate (the old southern entrance to Kaesong) became an unexpected highlight when we visited during a spring rain. While others sheltered, I examined how the wooden structure's deep eaves and elevated stone foundation have protected it from water damage for centuries. A local guide, noticing my interest, quietly shared that his grandfather had participated in its 1954 post-war restoration.

These small, human moments provided context impossible to get from guidebooks or official narratives. They reminded me that behind the formal façade of North Korean tourism are people with deep connections to their architectural heritage – not unlike the preservation communities I work with in New Mexico and Texas.