/uno/
if our love is a sin, i will never stop sinning.
It was a temperate Saturday afternoon when he arrived in Argentina, a country an entire ocean away from the place he grew up and called home. The place he was headed to was a small village called Valle Daza, smack dab in the middle of La Pampa, a district in Argentina where the population was very small and everyone seemed to know each other. He had just gotten ordained in Seoul, South Korea, three days earlier and there was a big need for priests in the rural communities of Argentina and Latin America.
The arch bishop of Seoul thought it would be a good experience for the young priest that had lived most of his life in the seminary. It would give him the opportunity to travel, see the world, learn a new language, and meet new people.
The very day the twenty three year old had been ordained, the archbishop pulled him off to the side during the reception party after the celebration mass. "Jongdae-yah," He started, looking proudly at one of his best students. Jongdae had been the most dedicated and was ordained with the highest honors. No other student he ever had was better than him. It was why he knew Jongdae was perfect for the assignment. "They have many openings in Latin America at the moment and there is a high demand for priests there. I know that normally we send our newly ordained boys to become deacons for a year before they can give services officially as priests. But I think you're ready."
Jongdae's eyes widened in surprise at his words. "This is such a big honor." The twenty three year old said.
"I have spoken with a friend of mine who is an archbishop in Argentina," The archbishop continued, "He says a priest in a village called Valle Daza will be retiring soon and he needs someone to take his place. I have recommended that you replace him, and they want you there as soon as possible."
And so, Kim Jongdae packed his bags and left for Argentina the very next day.
He arrived in the Latin American country after a twelve hour flight from Korea to Los Angeles. He had taken another twelve hour flight from Los Angeles to Argentina after resting for one day in the United States. From the airport in Bahía Blanca he boarded a bus that would take him all the way to the small village. He only had with him some money he had exchanged at a bank near the airport, and a backpack with some clothes to last him a few days. The rest would be provided for him by his new church, according to what the archbishop informed him.
The drive into the village was hours long and the young priest did not know what to expect. From the very beginning he felt much like an outsider--he didn't look like them, for one. From the moment he got on the bus, the other passengers stared at him with curious eyes. He was certainly different. He was Asian, pale skinned, and very handsome with inky black hair. Those kinds of people were not seen much in Argentina. In other parts of Latin America, yes. For example in Peru or in Brazil where there were big Japanese communities. Or in the South of Mexico where there were big Korean communities.
He sat next to an elderly man who immediately started making conversation with him. Jongdae was tired of travelling and had no desire to talk to anyone. At the same time, he didn't want to be rude and listened to what the man had to say.
He told the young priest that he was going to another little town nearby to open up a store with his son, and they had big hopes of making it big to provide for their family. The priest understood most of what the man said, despite the language barrier. He was also surprised that the man assumed Jongdae would even understand what he was saying. Maybe he didn't find a lost stare or confusion in his face, which led him to know that the Korean actually knew what he was talking about.
While in the seminary, what he liked to study most in his free time were languages. Over the years he had mastered Spanish and Latin. His English, though pretty fluent, still needed a lot of work. They were the languages he most felt would help him. But it was harder listening to a native speaker because they tended to speed up their words when they talked, they also shortened them, or used slang. Jongdae had also learned neutral Spanish in the seminary, and the people of Argentina had a very un-neutral accent.
Still, he tried his best to continue the conversation or at least follow along.
As the bus went further into the rural area there were hardly any visible shops or buildings, or even houses, and they saw a distressed woman with her car by the side of the road. She was waving desperately for the bus to stop and help her. But when the bus came to a stop beside her and opened the door, she quickly climbed on and pulled a gun out, holding it to the drivers head. From out of nowhere, four men from outside joined her. They all climbed onto the bus and went to each passenger, threatening them to hand over the money they had on them.
When they got to the priest who was sitting near the back and who was not dressed in any religious attire, one of the robbers shouted an order at him in Spanish, "Hand over your money if you want to live!"
He shook his head side to side, pretending not to speak the language, telling them, "No Spanish."
He made hand signals to let them know that he supposedly didn't understand what they were saying or what they wanted from him. He didn't want to give up the only money he had, in case he would be unable to find the village he was headed to.
"The watch." He said instead, still in Spanish, pointing to the watch around the priest's wrist. They were trying to get out of there quickly, and he didn't want to leave empty handed. "Give me the watch."
Jongdae quickly complied to that request and handed him the watch painstakingly. It was a gold watch that had been a present to him from the seminary in celebration of his ordainment. On the face of the watch was a beautiful image of the Virgin of Fatima, and on the back was a message inscribed from the archbishop in Korean. Matteo, may you always walk blessed down the path set by God. Jongdae didn't want to part with it, but he did.
The man snatched it from his hand and stuffed it into his pocket without another word. The elderly man beside him was next. They took all the money he was carrying, which had been the money he was planning to use for the business he was starting with his son. Jongdae felt bad for him. And the thieves disappeared into the woman's car, she went with them, and sped off down the dirt road leaving a bus full of shaken people.
-
so the first chapter is a lot of exposition. but i hope you all like this story. i have ten chapters already pre-written. but since i'm doing a bunch of editing and changing stuff to fit with jongdae being the main character, im going to try to expand the ten chapters into fifteen chapters.
please stay tuned for that. right now im going to go to the post office and then korea town or maybe korea town first and then the post office.
but i want to check out a new kpop music store nearby. so that should be fun.
-clary
