Behind the Monastery was a small path leading into the hills. We climbed for about 45 minuets, passing through fruit orchards, clusters of various types of trees, herds of sheep, and moments of total silence. It was thoroughly relaxing and pleasant.
Returning from the hills, we entered the Monastery, which was, as expected, calm and well kept. I find the Orthodox churches interesting for their lack of space to sit. It strikes me every time I enter one, and recently I asked a friend about it. She said that people just stand during the sermons. Men on the right, women on the left, the sermons don't last too long (up to about 45 minuets) making it manageable. Also, there is not the attendance ritual in the Orthodox tradition that you find in Catholicism. By that I mean people don't go every Sunday at a certain time. They can go any day of the week. Furthermore, the sermons consist of the monks gathering in the church to read, though it's much more like singing, from their sacred texts. Attending church is simply going during these times, standing and listening, crossing yourself at the (many) appropriate time(s) and at the end, going to the front to kiss the pictures of the saints.
As we left the church, one of my friends stopped to buy a small token from an old nun. She was selling various, religious type goods (candles, crosses, pictures...). My friend is American, the Nun is Serbian, so they struggled to communicate. She asked if he spoke German. He didn't, but I did, and we conducted business in German. Then she asked where we were from. I told her we were American. She threw her hands up in disgust: "ohh!" she said. "Ich spreche Deutsche aber kein English. English nicht wollen. NATO bomben!" In her eyes, we were the responsible party for what happened in 1999. For that reason, she didn't like our language, though she still sold her goods to my friend. Apparently out language wasn't welcome, but our money was ok.
None of us wanted to get drawn into a debate on this issue, nor would it have been appropriate. We thanked her and left, followed by her unflinching stare, and a look on her face that suggested she was bursting to tell us something; she remained quiet. She even followed us to the door and asked if we had questions about the church. We declined the offer.
As we left the church my friend asked me what she had said. I told him. "I thought so" he said. "Excuse me" said a man behind us. "Can I tell you something about the church?" he was a Serbian man with very good English. As we were pressed for time, we declined, but we all walked together to where our cars were parked. He and his wife were clearly interested in us, how we found this place, and why we were in Serbia. The fact that we were American had no negative impact on his interest in us. We left with an invitation to his Bakery in Zemun, following him as he guided us back to the Highway.
We drove back to BG to pick someone up from the Airport, which is right next to the airplane museum. The only museum in the world to host a shot down American Stealth Bomber. Shot down by the Serbians during the 1999 NATO bombing.
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