Ever since I came to Seoul some 5 1/2 years ago, I had wanted to go to North Korea. Numerous efforts to arrange a visit failed, but just a few days before leaving South Korea for good in early January I received an invitation to join a tour to Kumgangsan, the scenic mountains just north of the Demilitarized Zone.

Tours from South Korea to the North were launched by the company Hyundai-Asan in 1998, and at first were considered a political sensation. But in fast-moving South Korea, their appeal soon waned: Whereas organizers had difficulties accommodating the large number of travelers in 1998, today the tours are struggling to survive.

According to initial projections no less than half a million tourists were expected to visit the Diamond Mountains, as they are known in English, annually. However, to date just 430,000 visitors have made the journey.

According to political observers this disappointing result is a reflection of the breakdown of Seoul's engagement policy. The experts agree that the resurrection of the tourism project depends on a revival of the inter-Korean peace process.

To push in this direction, a group of South Korean activists set up a campaign to revive the Kumgangsan tourism project. One of their first activities was a visit to the North Korean mountains over New Year, the tour which I, together with foreign diplomats stationed in Seoul, was invited to join.

"Our venture will only take off again when the North Koreans agree to a land route," said a Hyundai-Asan manager, whose company has invested hundreds of millions of dollars in the project. "Then we could travel to Kumgangsan from Seoul in just five hours. Without the land route, we cannot make money." But opening the DMZ to traffic from the South remains a highly sensitive issue for North Korea's military, and there are no indications that Pyongyang is ready for such a move, despite the fact that the tourism project has become an important source of income for the North.

Like everything that has to do with North Korea, the project has also long been an object of partisan bickering in the South. "The opposition in Seoul wants the project to collapse," we were told. "They are not interested in a successful continuation of the visits, as this could improve the chances of the ruling party in the upcoming presidential elections."

Toward the end of the three-day tour our group was granted permission to leave the official route and become the first foreigners to visit a joint North-South agricultural project on the outskirts of Kosong, a rural settlement of some 10,000 people. There, at the foot of the mountains, North and South Koreans have set up modern greenhouses and grow vegetables and fruits for the visiting tourists. For me, this short bus ride through Kosong was the highlight of the whole tour. "This is like China 20 years ago," exclaimed a Western diplomat. The buildings were gray and run-down, and not a single car could be seen on the spacious roads, along which countless pedestrians were moving in both directions. My stereotyped picture of North Korea was instantly confirmed.

But, then, not everything I saw fit my preconceived image: The people on the streets looked decently dressed, and from this distance we could see no signs of malnutrition. Children playing in the fields seemed joyful and waved to us in a friendly manner as the bus moved by. "North Koreans are free, as long as they don't engage in politics," our South Korean escort said to my amazement, adding that his relationship with his North Korean coworkers had improved considerably over the months.

"When we first came here, the children threw rocks at us," he said. "Now our relationship is almost normal."

Almost normal, one should stress. Somebody from the group inquired about the food situation in this area. Our South Korean escort confessed that he had not seen North Koreans take a meal or eat one single time since coming here one and a half years ago. "They don't want to show us their misery," he said.

This was the overall impression I was left with, too, after my visit to Mount Kumgang: The North Koreans make every effort to hide their wretchedness from the foreigners' eyes. One could also interpret this attempt in a different manner: They wish to preserve their dignity as thousands of estranged compatriots from the South descend upon their land in an unparalleled civilian invasion of the hermit kingdom.