South Korean President Roh Moo Hyun walked across the Korean border on Tuesday before driving to Pyongyang for a three-day summit with North Korean leader Kim Jong Il. This is only the second meeting between leaders of the two Koreas since the country divided more than half a century ago. It comes as North Korea, the United States and other members of the six-party talks on North Korea's nuclear program are hinting that they have a more concrete agreement on the timing and verification of North Korea's nuclear facilities. The first inter-Korean summit, in the summer of 2000, garnered widespread international attention, and nervous glances from the United States, China, Russia and Japan. In stark contrast, the second summit between the leaders of the two sides sitting astride the last Cold War frontier is garnering scarcely a glance. What was novel, ground-breaking and full of uncertainty seven years ago is now simply an extension of a pattern of inter-Korean and even regional relations. In 2000, North Korean leader Kim Jong Il was a mystery, a man whose persona abroad was shaped by competing propaganda departments. North Korea portrayed him as a genius and the vanguard of people around the world willing to stand up and remain independent. South Korea and the United States portrayed him (officially or otherwise) as a drunken lout at best, a leader who was unfeeling, cruel and had hit his head one too many times falling off his horse. Leading up to the first summit, North Korea had only recently drawn down from a combined nuclear crisis and a shocking launch of a long-range three-stage rocket over Japan. South Korea, meanwhile, was seeing its first true opposition leader in power, Kim Dae Jung, a man who had a long reputation as a "liberal," was accused of left-leaning tendencies and promoted a "sunshine policy" toward the isolated and hostile North. Seoul was looking at a redefinition of its military forces as Washington was considering changing its Pacific posture in line with the restructuring of U.S. forces in Europe. And the South Korean president was meeting with former Cold War foes Russia and China. No one was sure what these two Koreas, long separated by choice and by the actions and interests of their respective sponsors, would do once they met up again, particularly with the North's Kim seeming to suddenly be more sane and the South's Kim seeming to be a little too pro-North. But the exact relation between the two Koreas was not the issue in and of itself. It was the context of the region around Korea that disconcerted the observers. There was much uncertainty in 2000, and the inter-Korean summit only added to the confusion. Russia had a new president, Vladimir Putin, whose policies for his country were unclear and whose comments suggested a more assertive Russia internationally. China was embarking on a multi-front expansion of its maritime power, sailing spy ships between Japanese islands, building naval bases in the Spratly islands and buying friends in the South Pacific. Japan's prime minister had suddenly died and his replacement quickly became known for verbal gaffes that instantly raised hackles with the Chinese and Koreans — all while Japan was openly discussing breaking free from its post-World War II pacifist constitution in response to the 1998 North Korean missile test and China's increasingly aggressive maritime policies. All the while, the United States had reduced its focus militarily on the Asia-Pacific region, leaving an apparent vacuum that China was clumsily rushing to fill. With Northeast Asia in a post-Cold War flux, the inter-Korean relationship was seen as a pivot around which other things could turn. The first inter-Korean summit, then, was a moment when each of the other four powers looked on with concern that the two Koreas would either both align with one of the larger powers together, or go it alone and pave the way for a new, technologically advanced, long-range missile-wielding country of 70 million that felt insecure between its larger neighbors. Reality, as often is the case, intervened, and the two Koreas remain divided. North Korea continues to move back and forth between self-made nuclear crises and international reconciliation and South Korea is not so sure it really wants reunification any time soon after all. But while the summit itself may not pave the way for anything spectacular, the regional trends seen in 2000 continue, even if with more political savvy. China's regional influence has expanded more through honeyed words and economic incentives than through vinegary threats of maritime expansion. But Beijing continues to work toward a hybrid blue-water capability. Japan's talk of constitutional reform and military normalization is old hat, and concrete changes are already taking place, even if the constitution remains intact. And Russia has begun to re-insert itself into the Pacific, leaving the neighbors just as uncertain as they were when Putin rose to power. And it is this reality of these larger powers, including the United States, that constrain and shape what the two Koreas can do. An inter-Korean summit is now just evolutionary, not revolutionary. But with the rising competition in Asia among the bigger powers, Korea once again looks to take its historical role as the minnow between whales. Only this time, it isn't just Japan and China, or Russia and the United States — it is all four individually.