Calum MacLeod

USA TODAY

Performers worry about family still inside North Korea

Show targets South Korean prejudice and ignorance about the North

%22Now On My Way to Meet You%22 is in its second year on TV

SEOUL — Quitting North Korea, one of the world's most isolated and repressive nations, carries a sizable psychological burden. Many defectors lie low in South Korea, as they struggle to adapt to a very different society and fear their family back home will be punished.

Yet some now seek the limelight. "I could never imagine being on a TV show" in North Korea, says Lee Tae Mee, 23, a former factory worker and defector who joined a hit TV show in Seoul this spring.

"It could only happen in South Korea, so I wanted to try."

In its second full year, Now On My Way to Meet You merges talk show and talent contest to showcase the abilities and often desperate tales of the North Koreans who flee their authoritarian, hunger-riven homeland in pursuit of a better, freer life in the South.

The format — singing, dancing and comic turns — dominates South Korean television, but these participants, all North Korean defectors, are highly unusual.

After months of blistering war rhetoric and threats from North Korea, the divided neighbors appear close to holding their first high-level talks for six years. Yet even 60 years after the Korean War ended with a truce but no peace treaty, South Koreans often have little knowledge of life beyond the border.

"It's the only country worldwide that South Korean people cannot tour, or get information on the Internet," as Seoul blocks many North Korean-related websites, says lead writer Jang Hee Jung.

Her show aims to reduce misunderstanding and prejudice towards the roughly 25,000 North Koreans who have settled in the South since the 1990s, she says. Several defectors already report significant warming in their previously frosty reception by locals.

Part of a rotating cast of 14 participants, Lee Tae Mee sings, dances, jokes — and hopes her very public appearance won't hurt her family.

"I worry but I have no idea what will happen to them," says Lee of her parents and brother, whom she left behind in North Korea when escaping in 2010. "The tension has been so high they can only try to cross later."

Leaving North Korea remains a life-or-death gamble. The impassable Demilitarized Zone separating North and South forces escapees to cross first into China and then another nation to reach South Korean diplomats and the prospect of safety.

Describing the journey to freedom is the tearful highlight of Now On My Way to Meet You, writer Jang says.

"When they get their South Korean passports, they cry so hard, and repeat over and over the words 'you are under Korean protection'. They remind us of what we have to be grateful for," she says.

"Beautiful, talented and entertaining women talk about the reality of North Korean life. It's a more effective way to teach people", and grab viewers, than the usual, tragedy-heavy programming about the North, says Jang.

The challenges of daily life in high-tech, consumerist South Korea provide ready laughs, such as the defectors who mistake toilets for face-washing basins, or struggle to order coffee in Seoul's cafés.

Lee Tae Mee recalls her first encounter with hair conditioner — she walked outside with it unwashed on her head. Kim A-Ra, a contestant, came to South Korea in 2009 after escaping North Korea, with her mother.

Food shortages affect the way people interact, says Kim, 22. Unlike in South Korea, "we don't sound fake when we talk, we're very direct and it can appear mean. In North Korea, everybody is hungry and looking for food, there's no time to be nice to people," she says.

Musician Park Sung Jin, 42, who fled here in 2006, plays a string instrument on the show and says the program helps build understanding.

"Before I tried to hide, but being a North Korean refugee is not a crime, it's not my fault," he says. "South Koreans are less prejudiced than before, and I'm more willing to approach them."

South Koreans know the ruling Kim dynasty and their privileged lives, "but that's 0.1% of the North Korean population, they don't know about the rest of human life there," says Lee Jung Min, 31, a defector studying political science in Seoul.

"This program shows South Koreans we're the same human beings, we all feel love, miss our parents and brothers and sisters. We can feel we're from the same country," she says.

Even after 11 years outside North Korea, Lee still doesn't use her North Korean name and avoids photographs, lest her relatives suffer punishment. She dreams of serving as a national legislator and to encourage such ambition the show employs mentors including Chon Chol-woo, who runs a chain of noodle restaurants.

"I had the easiest escape to South Korea, it was much more dangerous for these girls," says Chon, 46, an exchange student in East Germany who crossed a bridge to freedom the day after the Berlin Wall fell in 1989. Newcomers, who often have a fantasy about capitalist society, will suffer hard times, low self-esteem and confidence, he warns.

"You'll feel South Koreans look down on or ignore you, but you made the decision to come here, so please endure it for

Given the limited runs of many cable TV shows, the show's continued high ratings count as successful, but writer Jang targets the record holder, a 7-year-old program backed by the video team of global star Psy.

"Of course we will run longer," she confidently predicts. "I'll keep this show running until the reunification of North and South Korea."

Contributing: Eunice Kang