Panmunjom, Korea -- Profanity is out of the question. So is a miniskirt or blue denim. And, please, wipe that smile off your face.

There's a chance that a North Korean soldier -- standing only inches away with clenched fists and a hard look -- might misunderstand. You certainly don't want to contribute to the five-decade-old conflict between North Korea and South Korea.

If there's one place on Earth where you wouldn't want to goof around, this is it: Panmunjom, a village about a half-mile wide and a half-mile long that's in the boundary that has severed the Koreas since 1953. The truce village, the heart of the 2.5-mile-wide and 150-mile-long Demilitarized Zone, or DMZ, is in the middle of the Korean Peninsula. Only God knows how many mines, rifles, tanks, missiles and other artillery, plus hundreds of thousands of troops, are poised on each side.

The village, officially the Joint Security Area between the United Nations and North Korea, is outside the administrative control of both Koreas.

A tour to Panmunjom is a must if you're taking a Korean trip. With a gift shop of its own and an official tour book that sells for $10, the DMZ is wildly popular, drawing 150,000 tourists a year.

Despite escalating tension on the peninsula, including North Korean fighter jets recently tailing a U.S. spy plane, tour buses continue to roll into the DMZ and are just as packed as ever. Lately, the U.S. military in South Korea has been swamped with requests from media outlets wanting to go to the Joint Security Area.

This day trip is offered by tour operators at major hotels in Seoul, the capital of South Korea. Tourists are bused the 30 miles to the DMZ, urged on by brochures that scream, "Feel the sorrow of a divided country!" or, more accurately: "A truly bizarre experience."

North and South Korea technically are still at war, a conflict that began in 1950. About 33,000 Americans died fighting on South Korea's side from 1950 to 1953, and the United States still has dozens of bases and 37,000 soldiers in South Korea. But now the area of trees and peaks seems quiet, an eerie version of an Ansel Adams portrait.

"Life is very simple for us," said U.S. Army Maj. Rick Andersen. "You go two steps and there are the bad guys. Where else in the world would you have two enemies meet eye to eye?"

Andersen is one of several officers whose duties include giving an "orientation" for DMZ visitors, something the U.S. military has done for years to help educate tourists and Koreans about its presence in the area.

The tours begin with a 20-minute slide show at Camp Bonifas, a village just outside the DMZ for U.S. and South Korean soldiers manning the Joint Security Area. Tourists must sign an unsettling waiver form, a friendly reminder that you're entering a war zone and may get injured or killed during the visit.

Although injury to tourists is unlikely, incidents in the DMZ have made the waiver necessary. In 1976, for instance, two American soldiers were killed in an altercation with North Korean soldiers that began with the trimming of a poplar tree between guard posts. In 1984, North Korean troops pursuing a defecting Soviet tourist opened fire near U.N. buildings that are part of the tours, and one South Korean and three North Korean soldiers were killed.

Panmunjom contains 24 buildings, including the main conference room of the Military Armistice Commission in the middle, the House of Peace on the U.N. side and the Unification Pavilion on the North Korean side. Tourists get to go inside the conference room.

Observing is nearly the only thing tourists are allowed to do. Chitchat with North Korean soldiers is nonexistent because tourists are warned -- sternly -- to avoid any incidents. No one in our tour group dared break the rule. Photography is permitted at some spots, but tourists are told to put away their cameras at places where tanks and bazookas are hidden.

For a place with enough artillery to blast the two countries to smithereens, the DMZ seems serene. We saw mountains against an ocean-blue sky. The village is usually quiet, but sometimes you can hear huge North Korean speakers spewing propaganda about the greatness of North Korea and its "dear leader," Kim Jong-il. South Korea counters that with a gigantic billboard facing North Korea carrying messages such as "We've sold 10 million cars."

The South Korean route to the DMZ is noteworthy. The skyscrapers and apartment buildings of Seoul's modern landscape give way to barbed-wire fences and camouflaged soldiers as soon as you leave the capital. It reminds you of the fragility of peace. Tourists are told to show their passports whenever asked at checkpoints.

For foreigners visiting South Korea, a tour is as easy as whipping out $50 at a hotel. No need to book your tour before you leave the United States. But for Korean natives, a background check is required, which could take a couple of months. It's worth it, though, because it buys you an opportunity to peek at a North Korean soldier from a foot away through a window in the conference room of the Military Armistice Commission.

Since the war began, North and South Korean officials and U.N. representatives have met in this conference room in one of the nondescript buildings of Panmunjom. An equally nondescript table with a small U.N. flag divides the two sides, and a U.S. soldier warns tourists to be respectful of that flag.

When tourists from South Korea are in the room, two U.N.-led South Korean soldiers block the door that leads to North Korea. Some visitors take photos next to the soldiers, who stand with stern posture, closed fists and no facial expression, like mannequin-sized GI Joe dolls. When North Korean visitors are in the room, the door leading to the South is locked and guarded.

By now, North Korean soldiers on the other side of the conference room window are probably used to hundreds of gawkers a day. But some of them are capable of flashing a mean look. Resist the temptation to stick out your tongue. Such a violation will get you escorted from the tour faster than you can say "communism." No one in our group was escorted out, but a South Korean soldier approached, trying to discourage photography, and asked me to put a camera away. But relax. You're allowed to take pictures inside and outside the buildings.

Camp Bonifas, with its mixture of U.S. and South Korean soldiers, is also a place where cafeteria cooks prepare meatloaf and bulgogi, Korean marinated beef. You'll also find a chapel, barbershop, U.S. post office and a one-hole golf course. Surrounded by mine fields, the course was named by Sports Illustrated as the world's most dangerous hole a few years ago. It continues to live up to its title.

In addition to South Koreans and Americans, peacekeeping delegations from Sweden and Switzerland have been camping in the DMZ since the armistice began. Unlike the Americans and Koreans, they carry no weapons except a Swiss Army knife. A Swedish major told me that the DMZ's vegetation and landscape remind him of Scandinavia and described the DMZ as a "really nice place to live."

The tour bus also stops at the Bridge of No Return, a short, weathered cement crossing over the Sachon River, which connects North and South Korea. In 1953, this bridge was used to return both sides' prisoners of war, who were allowed to make the irreversible choice of whether to return to their country. North Korean and Chinese prisoners had to choose between living in South Korea or Taiwan or being repatriated to North Korea or China. Thousands chose not to return.

During a presidential visit, Bill Clinton walked a few steps on the bridge. Tourists don't get the chance: The bus won't let you off at the bridge, but you get a good view from your seat.

Some visitors are amused by the DMZ experience, others unsettled by it. For someone such as Bok Sun Jackson, the Korean-born wife of an American soldier, it's a reminder of how ideology can tear a country apart.

She sighed as she looked across the field of trees to North Korea, where a national flag as big as a football field fluttered in the wind.