Day 5: Peace and War

Hi everyone, it's Alex here.

Today's post is going to be a little heavier, a bit serious, even political. But I feel I have to share this.

Two moments sparked it.

The first, someone asked what's the difference between Korean and Japanese people, since Michael did a similar trip in Japan.

The second, we accidentally kicked our way right into the Nakdong River Peace Festival. A memorial that honors the battles fought along the Nakdong River and promotes peace. The festival mixes solemn ceremonies and historical exhibits with concerts and cultural performances. We even saw kids playing around tanks and other military equipment, and that hit me hard.

Before I go deeper, I want to say thank you.

Everyone we met today was incredibly kind. Warm smiles, friendly questions, small gestures that made a cold day feel lighter.

To all the people who waved and wished us luck, thank you for reminding me how good humans can be.

Now… the heavy part.

I was born in 1991, in what used to be the Soviet Union in a small republic called Tajikistan.

That same year, the USSR collapsed.

And soon after, a civil war tore the country apart. My family ran, we became refugees, living in a small Russian town inside a refugee camp. Conditions were rough. My mum got sick. Not with something deadly, just something treatable, something that anywhere else could have been cured.

But there was no medicine. No help.

And she kept working, taking care of me, until her body simply gave up.

She died not from disease, but from exhaustion, poverty, and war's invisible cruelty.

That was my first lesson: not every victim of war dies on the battlefield.

And yet, as a child, I loved playing war.

Toy guns, plastic soldiers, heroic movies, I built my own little battles, dreaming of being a soldier one day.

When it came time to choose a path, I was this close to signing up for a military academy.

Because the uniform looked cool. Because it felt noble. Because I thought that's what being a man meant, to fight, to serve, to be a hero.

But now, I think, if I had joined, maybe I'd be in Ukraine right now.

Maybe I'd be one of the names no one remembers, buried under the same ideals that took my mother.

This is not a plea for sympathy. It's a plea to stop normalizing war. War should not be entertainment or a rite of passage. We must remember the victims — not glorify the instruments of war. We should promote peace and compassion.

About your question on the differences between Japanese and Korean people: really, there's not much. Everyone wants a good life, love, and a place to belong. That is true across nations. But there are people who try to divide us, building walls, searching for enemies, blaming groups for everything. That can be based on race, religion, ethnicity, or sexuality. We should resist that. Build bridges, not walls.

And maybe one day, when a leader gives the order to invade, people will simply say "no."

Because the ones who suffer most are never the politicians, never the generals.

It's us.