Blankets of snow covered the ominous demilitarised zone in the Korean Peninsula. I peered through binoculars over to the other side. Reclusive land, barbed wires and frozen rivers filled up the lens. On a summers day the view from the Dora Observatory is the closest you’ll get to seeing the North of Korea – but for me, the bitter cold chilled my face as I listened to communist propaganda music playing over the whistling winds.
Why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side? – George R. R. Martin
With not much to see, I started a conversation with a South Korean solider, he stood next to a 3D model of the 160-mile long border. He’d been called for service midway through his studies at Leeds University. In contrast to England’s Northern city, his days at the DMZ are rather repetitive – he faces the Northern territory, protecting the South. The North Korean soldiers, however, face their own land and brutally stop anyone from trying to escape.
The Bridge of No Return
Along the model of underground tunnels and historic memories, was ‘The Bridge of No Return’; a harrowing feature which told the story of the end of the war in 1953. Prisoners were given their final ultimatum – they could either remain in the North or return to the South. But once they chose to cross, they could never return. And ok, this side of the war the decision sounds like a no brainer, but their choices were impacted by time restriction and overwhelming emotions. And like the rest of us, they didn’t posses the power of foresight; they couldn’t predict how the countries would unfold.
It got me thinking about decisions we’re made to make during our lifetime and if we are ever faced with a decision of no return? Throughout my short life, I have already had to decide my school, my university, my job, friends etc. And on top of that, as part of a generation with the freedom to wander, I’ve had to choose whether or not I should travel. But have any of these been absolute?
Two years ago, I was on the back of a scooter, flying through the ancient roads of Hampi, India. The driver, and friend, was visiting India after a divorce. With a new lease for life, he shouted over the rattling engine; “You are lucky enough to have a comfort zone, even if it is a plane ride away, it is always there. Use that as the motive to take risks and experience the new”. I suppose it is easier to leave what we know, when we can always return.
Even today, I write this post from South Korea, another unexpected journey in my life. But nine months in to this chapter and Korea has transformed from a risky decision to a new comfort zone – I find myself dwelling on my decision to leave my cosy apartment, friendly school and rather easy schedule. Toying with the idea of settling in Korea, I see a move back to England as another risk; but every time I overthink the possibilities of the future, I remind myself that this is not a decision of no return.
Final Ultimatum
I have often questioned why we focus so much of our attention on the future, when we spend all of our time in the present? Whose to say the Koreans of 1953, served with a final ultimatum, made the wrong decision. I do not support communism but numerous videos from escapees have suggested that some North Koreans are happier with what they have when compared with their Southern neighbours.
Many South Korean people who I have spoken to are very much for unifying. The rest of the tour around the DMZ border focused on unification – it even featured a quick stop at a train station and tracks, which are already prepared to travel in to the North.
The disturbing story of the Bridge slowly withered as the hope of reuniting these two countries bloomed in my mind. Although we are presented with countless decisions throughout our lives, leading to many tangible differences amongst us, we all started from the same and we will return to the same. And the sooner we realise this, the better.
TEACH | EXPLORE 