Experiencing Summer Camp in North Korea

Even for locals, movement within the secretive nation officially known as the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea is tightly controlled.

However, for Russian national Yuri Frolov, 25, planning a visit was easier. He spent two weeks in North Korea as a high-school student in 2015 and 2016. Frolov’s interest in the country began after watching a documentary that depicted North Korea as surrounded by capitalist neighbors. His curiosity led him to join a VKontakte group called "Solidarity with North Korea," Russia's version of Facebook.

Earlier this year, 100 Russian citizens became the first tour group permitted to visit North Korea since the pandemic, signaling Russia’s rising significance as Pyongyang strengthens its ties with Moscow. Before the pandemic, China was the largest source of foreign tourists to North Korea.

When Frolov arrived at Songdowon International Children’s Camp in the summer of 2015, he and his group were warmly welcomed by the camp staff. The camp hosted children from countries like Laos, Nigeria, Tanzania, and China. However, interactions with North Korean children were restricted to the final day, a precaution to avoid any exchange of genuine experiences.

The camp offered traditional summer activities like trips to the beach and sandcastle-building contests, but also featured unusual customs. Campers were required to wake up at 6 a.m. and clean statues of former North Korean leaders Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il, even though professionals were responsible for maintaining the monuments.

Having visited North Korea 19 times, I find Frolov’s experiences both familiar and enlightening. The intense focus on propaganda, the constant surveillance, and the odd blend of freedom and restriction are aspects I've encountered time and again.

One of the more surreal activities at the summer camp involved a computer game where players, controlling a hamster in a tank, had to destroy the White House.

This game reminded me of an interaction I had with two North Korean campers playing a similar game. When I asked who they were shooting at, they said, "Our sworn enemy, Americans." I then asked, "What if I told you I’m American? Would you want to shoot me too?" Without missing a beat, they replied, "Yes." After I reassured them I was a "good American," they decided I could live. They smiled and waved as we parted ways.

This is the paradox of North Korea. People were typically kind and polite, even while declaring that the United States should "drown in a sea of fire."

Despite the overwhelming propaganda, Frolov remained doubtful. The rigid schedule became frustrating, especially when he wasn’t permitted to skip the early morning exercises, even though he was feeling ill. The camp's food was another struggle, with Frolov relying mostly on rice, potato wedges, and bread, leading to an 11-pound weight loss over 15 days. His craving for familiar food became so strong that after returning home, he indulged in a Burger King feast, though he couldn't finish it all.

Frolov recalled a curious moment in Pyongyang: “I saw a young girl in the city center wearing a dress patterned like the American flag. Strangely, no one seemed upset, although she was told not to wear it again. It was such an odd sight in a place so controlled.”

“A lot of things felt inauthentic, particularly the science and innovation buildings. They didn’t seem convincing, not even to a child,” he reflected. “It wasn’t entirely awful, but it was mostly boring. Without the internet, it felt just like any typical Russian children’s camp.”

Despite the uncomfortable and highly regulated environment, Frolov chose to return to the camp the following year, partly due to the Communist Party’s arrangements and his own reluctance to confront the situation.

Looking back, Frolov admits the decision was unwise, but he values the unique experiences and stories he can now share about his time in North Korea.

His account offers an extraordinary peek into the lives of foreign children attending a North Korean summer camp, showcasing the country’s attempt to blend cultural exchange with indoctrination.

Yuri Frolov’s story serves as a poignant reminder of North Korea's relentless efforts to influence and cultivate loyalty. His time at Songdowon International Children’s Camp exemplifies the regime’s use of propaganda and control to shape the minds of its youth, a tactic I’ve witnessed firsthand in my own reporting.

Though our roles were vastly different – him as a camper, me as a journalist – our experiences reveal a shared truth about North Korea’s unyielding drive for ideological dominance.