I’d been in Seoul for about three months by the time I worked up the nerve to start taking Korean classes.  I was so sick of smiling like an imbecile when I went out and people talked to me.  I hated being that kind of American.  The kind who just smiled and nodded because I had no idea what was going on.  I took comfort in the thought that at least I wasn’t the other kind of American.

                The loud, rude, arrogant, and only care about speaking English kind of American.  If someone doesn’t speak English, clearly shouting at them helps.  Right, I refused to be that kind.

                Granted, most of the time when I went out, I was with my friends.  My Korean co-teachers, but still.  When I went out by myself, I was the smiling idiot.

                My students at the public high school where I worked were completely amazed when they found out I was taking Korean class.

                “Nikki Teacher!” my smallest student, Yoon Jung, cried out in class, waving her hand excitedly.  “We can help you with your homework!”

                Other students joined in by calling out words of agreement.  I laughed.  “Ok, ok, I’ll be sure to ask you guys if I need help.”

                “Can we speak Korean in class after you start learning, Nikki Teacher?” a little boy sitting in the back of the class asked with a grin.  I shook my head, still laughing.

                “No, you know it’s only English in English class, Dong Hoon,” I told him.  “But nice try.”

                A few others joined in with his groaning complaints.

                It felt good to laugh like that.  I was glad I was here in Korea.  I was glad I took this two year contract with this school.  Everything felt like it was finally going right for me, for once in my life.

                Two months later, I started seeing more and more news articles online and on TV, on the English news programs, about North Korea.  Sure, I’d seen them back in the States, but that meant little to me when I was 6,000 miles away from either Korea.  There were no travel warnings for Americans going to South Korea so when I was offered the job as the third year English teacher at the high school, I took it.  Packed my bags and jumped on a plane without even thinking twice.

                It seemed like soon after I arrived, North Korea began doing things to attract the world’s attention again.  I remained indifferent to the whole situation, like most who lived here.  North Korea was always acting like a toddler going through the ‘terrible twos’ stage.  Throwing temper tantrums for attention, but nothing actually ever happened.

                Until they sank a South Korean Navy ship killing every sailor on board.

                Until they shot a rocket into the air during a ‘test run’ and it landed in a small South Korean village, obliterating the entire place.

                So one day, when I was flicking through TV channels in my apartment and I came across a news program all in Korean.  The more I took Korean classes, the more I tried to listen to Korean music and watch Korean TV shows.  Sometimes I could pick out words I knew, but most times, I was the smiling idiot still.

                I stopped on the news program and watched.

                Rows of identical soldiers marched in goose step while a woman told the story of what was going on in a speed so fast I couldn’t even begin to pick out words I may have known. 

                The Nazi looking soldiers in the dull military green uniforms didn’t bother me much.  I didn’t know what the soldiers were talking about in the meeting the news channel showed clips of.  Hell, I couldn’t even tell who they were except that they were Korean.  Half had the South Korean flag embroidered on their uniforms and the other half had the North Korean flag embroidered on theirs. 

                The images of the sad, hopeless looks on the residents of that unknown poor village were upsetting, but also didn’t strike a cord with me.  The military base or nuclear weapons plant or whatever that gray, dilapidated building was that they kept showing didn’t do anything for me either. 

                The thing that really got to me was when they showed a map of the world with a little digital missile popping out of North Korea and leaving a dotted trail from somewhere in the middle of the communist nation down into South Korea.

                For years, in every American newspaper and on every news channel, there had been talk of North Korea having ‘weapons of mass destruction’ and being a prong on this ‘axis of evil’ a former US president mentioned, but I’d never thought much of it.  Sure, there had been rumors about North Korea hating America and all things American – except for Daffy Duck which the ‘great leader’ supposedly loved enough to have a huge collection of cartoon DVDs – but they never did anything about it.  They were crazy, but not that crazy.  If North Korea was going to use their destructive weapons on anyone, it would be on their well-off southern neighbors.  Of whom I was sure the North Koreans were quite jealous.

                And, according to a world history class I took in high school taught by a tired old war-obsessed history buff, the way to destroy a country is to take out its capital city.

                I quickly changed the channel until I found one playing kpop music videos.

                I was in the teachers’ room at school the first day that the drill sirens sounded.  I was told not to worry about it by my Korean co-teachers.  “The military insists on doing the drills every once in a while,” Jenny, the head teacher, told me.  I looked at the two only other foreign teachers and shrugged.  They didn’t seem worried.  Why should I be?

                The sirens kept sounding at different times of the day for about a week before I got the email from the US embassy about what was going on.

                “I like how it says ‘oh don’t worry, they’re just drills’ but then in the next line, they say, ‘should things take a turn for the worse, the US government will do everything in its power to get all American citizens living in Seoul out of the country as soon as possible,’” Leigha, the second year English teacher, laughed.  She turned away from the email on her computer screen and looked at me and Heather, the first year English teacher.

                “You think something is really going to go down?” Heather wondered, turning in her seat to look at us.  I put down the week’s schedule I was looking at.

                “North Korea bombed another village closer to Seoul recently,” I reminded them.  “Maybe this is just to calm any crazies who are thinking of fleeing the country.”

                “Can you imagine how many people who are here teaching English at bad schools or are just miserable in general are going to use this as an excuse to flee in the night?” Heather said, cracking up.

                “It’s a good thing we work for a nice school and would never even dream of taking the first flight out of here to go back home!” Lisa added, loud enough for Jenny to hear.

                We looked over at Jenny who was sitting at her desk, typing away.  She smiled and shook her head.  “That’s good to know, ladies,” she said.

                “Are you worried?” I asked the other two.

                Lisa shrugged.  “No, I guess not.  I mean it says they would get us out if something big went down.  Plus, when we got our visas, we had to register with the embassy, so it’s not like they’d forget us or something.  They know where we are.”

                “Yeah, but what if the North Koreans bomb Seoul in the middle of the night?” Heather retorted quietly.  The girl had a point.  I’d panic then I think.

                “If they have weapons as serious as they are bragging about then if they bombed us in the night, we’d all be dead and wouldn’t have to worry,” Lisa said with a casual wave of her hand.  She had a point too, but I didn’t like that one.

                “Guys,” I said with a forced laugh.  “Why are we even talking about this?  Americans are still being granted visas to come to Korea, so obviously, there’s nothing wrong.”

                “Yet,” Lisa added cryptically.  I laughed with Heather, but something in the pit of my stomach told me this email was foreshadowing something big.  “Did Canada start sending out emails to their citizens here?” she asked Heather.

                Heather nodded.  “I got one yesterday.  Said pretty much the same thing as your American ‘don’t worry, be happy, nothing’s wrong’ email,” she laughed.

                A week later was when we started hearing explosions.  It was faded and distant.  Clearly no where near our area of Seoul, but it was enough of a worry for us to get another email.  Another email trying to play it off as ‘North Korean drills.’  They said no ‘Seoul civilians’ had been killed which made me wonder if civilians outside of Seoul were being killed.  The explosions just sounded like thunder.  No one else seemed worried, so I told myself any weird feelings I was having was just me being paranoid.  I listened to Lisa too much.

                I was in my apartment one night, ignoring the sound of explosions and what I refused to admit was gunfire, when I heard the banging on my door.  I peeked through the peep hole to see two American soldiers standing outside.  Swallowing the fear, I opened the door.  “Yes?” I asked.  They were in full Army uniforms.  Combat camouflage.  Tall, built, stern looking soldiers.  I suppose that should have given me some comfort.  They looked like they could handle anything thrown at them.

                “Nicola Belton?” the taller of the two asked.  His uniform said Sanders.

                “Yes?”  My voice sounded small and shaky.

                “Please come with us.”

                “What?  Why?”

                “A consular warning has been issued for Americans in Seoul.  Things have escalated with North Korea and the US army has been ordered to relocate all Americans residing in Seoul,” the shorter one whose uniform said Carlson.

                “All of them?”  I heard somewhere that there thousands of Americans teaching English in Seoul.  Canadians, Australians, all sorts of native English speakers.  What’s going to happen to them?  Is the US overreacting?  The weird feeling that twisted my stomach into knots made me believe I wasn’t.

                “You are allowed one piece of luggage.  Please pack quickly,” Sanders said.  “We will wait here.  You have ten minutes.”

                My mind went blank and then into overdrive.  Thankfully, the last email I’d received a few days ago – the one that should have tipped us all off that something bad was happening – popped into my head.  It said the things we should pack in the event of an emergency evacuation.

                But I was being relocated, not evacuated.  Or is this the same thing?

                My hands were shaking as I took a suitcase out of my closet and began shoveling clothes into it.

                “Nothing perishable,” Carlson added.  “Food will be provided.  So will personal hygiene products.”  I nodded.  Both soldiers were standing in my apartment.  I didn’t remember seeing them walk in.

                I took my folder of important documents off my desk and shoved it into the front zipper pocket of my suitcase.  I threw my purse in as well.  I grabbed the stuffed panda sitting on my bed.  “I’m ready,” I told them.  Carlson took the suitcase handle from me and gestured for me to follow Sanders.

                Once outside in the darkened street, I noticed the street lights were out.  When was the last time I’d seen them on? I wondered.

                My suitcase was shoved into the lower storage area of a bus that used to be used for trips to the airport.  I was herded onto the bus already half filled with wide eyed Americans.  It was weird to be on a bus with only English speakers.  I saw Lisa sitting alone in the back.  I sat next to her.  I heard someone say that we were being taken to a school that was now being used as a shelter for foreigners until they can figure out what to do with us.  Someone else said a lot of schools were being shut down to be used as shelters for foreigners from other countries.  Someone else said they shut down the schools in case of bombings, like in Israel and Palestine.

                I couldn’t help but think, as we drove into the night, that the explosions sounded closer than before.