Nestled along the eastern coast of North Korea, Wonsan is a city that embodies the enigmatic charm of the Hermit Kingdom. While global headlines often focus on nuclear tensions and geopolitical standoffs, Wonsan offers a rare glimpse into the everyday lives, traditions, and cultural nuances of a people largely shielded from the outside world.
Wonsan’s geography is nothing short of dramatic. Framed by the towering peaks of the Taebaek Mountains and lapped by the waters of the East Sea (or the Sea of Japan, as it’s known elsewhere), the city is a picturesque blend of natural beauty and urban planning. Unlike Pyongyang, which is meticulously designed to showcase the regime’s power, Wonsan feels more relaxed, with a slower pace of life shaped by its fishing and agricultural roots.
One of the most intriguing aspects of Wonsan’s modern culture is the Wonsan Air Festival, an event that briefly opens the city to foreign visitors. While North Korea remains one of the most isolated nations, this festival—featuring aerial displays, parades, and cultural performances—offers a carefully curated but fascinating peek into the country’s aspirations. Critics argue it’s mere propaganda, but for locals, it’s a rare chance to interact with outsiders and celebrate national pride.
North Korea places immense emphasis on preserving its cultural heritage, and Wonsan is no exception. Traditional Arirang performances, a genre of Korean folk music, are common in local theaters. The dances, often accompanied by the kayagum (a traditional zither), reflect stories of love, labor, and resistance—themes that resonate deeply in a society where collective identity overshadows individualism.
In Wonsan, even leisure is politicized. The Mangyongdae Funfair, a sprawling amusement park, is a popular destination for locals. While roller coasters and Ferris wheels might seem universal, here they double as tools for reinforcing state ideology. Loudspeakers blast revolutionary songs, and murals of the Kim dynasty loom over carnival games. Yet, for many Wonsan residents, it’s simply a place to unwind—a reminder that joy persists even in tightly controlled environments.
Wonsan’s proximity to the sea means seafood dominates local cuisine. Hoe (raw fish) is a delicacy, often served with spicy gochujang sauce. Street vendors sell grilled clams and squid, while restaurants offer elaborate seafood hot pots. Unlike the scarcity often associated with North Korea, Wonsan’s markets occasionally brim with fresh catches—though access depends heavily on one’s status.
Food in North Korea is never just about sustenance; it’s a reflection of privilege. While the elite enjoy lavish spreads, ordinary citizens rely on rations. In Wonsan, fishing cooperatives play a crucial role in feeding the population, but shortages persist. The global food crisis, exacerbated by sanctions and climate change, has hit Wonsan hard, making even basic staples like rice a luxury for some.
Kim Jong Un has touted Wonsan as a future tourist hotspot, investing in resorts like the Kalma Coastal Tourist Zone. The goal is clear: to attract foreign currency and soften the country’s image. But with strict travel restrictions and ongoing tensions, this vision remains largely unrealized. For now, Wonsan’s beaches sit mostly empty, save for the occasional cadre or military official.
Wonsan’s culture cannot be divorced from the broader tensions gripping the Korean Peninsula. The city’s port is strategically vital, often linked to missile tests and military parades. When global powers debate sanctions or nuclear disarmament, the ripple effects reach Wonsan’s fishermen, artists, and families. The city is both a beneficiary and a casualty of the regime’s ambitions.
Behind the politics, Wonsan’s residents navigate life with remarkable resilience. Children attend schools where loyalty to the state is drilled alongside math and science. Families gather for picnics at Songdowon Beach, where the ocean offers a fleeting sense of freedom. And despite censorship, whispers of outside news trickle in through smuggled USB drives—a quiet rebellion against isolation.
Wonsan’s isolation has preserved traditions long vanished elsewhere in Korea. But it also means stagnation. While Seoul buzzes with K-pop and cutting-edge tech, Wonsan’s cultural exports are limited to state-approved art and music. Yet, there’s a haunting beauty in this preservation—a time capsule of a Korea untouched by globalization.
Wonsan is a city of contradictions: a place where propaganda and authenticity collide, where the sea’s bounty contrasts with systemic scarcity, and where global tensions cast long shadows over daily life. To understand Wonsan is to glimpse the complexities of North Korea itself—a nation that remains, for now, an enigma wrapped in a dictatorship.