carrying on in the fine tradition, begun in Cesky Krumlov or Olomouc or wherever it was that i became trapped by the strains of Mendelssohn and accompanying marchers, when all i wanted to do was be in a holy place and investigate the architecture and art....

daniela was going to a wedding today, and invited me along. despite my renowned views on all of the subjects involved (weddings, people i don't know, and dressy shoes), i decided that i should not say no all of the time (except to drugs). samuel came to pick us up, because he was driving from Zemun and had to pass through Novi Beograd anyway. wedding was in the Pentecostal church where daniela works. i didn't realise it until they walked down the isle, but i'd met brana, the woman who was getting married, yesterday at Nojeva Barka (henceforward, i'll be calling it NB instead of NA because, after all, everyone knows that all that's necessary to remedy a multitude of linguistic sins is an airtight covert acronymic strategy ). her husband, vlada, also has helped out at NB, however and whenever he was needed. the wedding was a completely informal event; i don't think it was representative of weddings here, in general, for several reasons (enumerated, in the form of a broader commentary, below).

so there are a few dimensions going on: first is the fact that in this enormous city, there are these powerful subcircles, into which i am being rapidly drawn by dint of my connection to NB. this fact makes my claim above (regarding knowing no one) semi-false; snezana, peca (teacher), vesna (head teacher), vesna's sister and a bunch of parents of kids (or former kids, who just come to NB, sometimes to assist, sometimes just to say hi) were in attendance and/or singing or otherwise contributing to the ceremony.

the second factor is the state of Protestantism in this city/country/region. i'm collecting bits along the way, and don't really have a good (true/objective) source of information. from what i gather, the population is divided into those of Orthodox, Muslim, and Catholic ways of believing. of course the relative percentages vary, often strikingly; Srbija is so Orthodox it fairly resounds with parallel thirded chants. despite the conflicts that have ensued because of the religious distinctions (or, should i say: the equating/conflating of religion with national and political identity into the great whirling black (w)hole of nationalism), these three are the accepted religions—while anything else is viewed, by virtue of its small and unfamiliar/historical, as somewhat of a cult (where are those definitions now??!).

given these two intertwined states of affairs (and also this mark of [Venn], a brand upon my skin and sensed by those with one of their own), it is not surprising that after being here for 5 days, i'm already bumping into the same people everywhere i force myself to go that does not involve wandering around like a misfit and an orphan nomad. the reality of it makes me think—both about closedness and circularity, how these rarely generate anything good, but also about hope for the region, and how perhaps it must come from some outside source that isn't so steeped in all these centuries of, well, closedness and circularity. i see what goes on at NB, and i think that it might be true, might be possible. if i start talking about "gaining credibility," my native language (that which also includes prayer letters and quarterly reports) shows through—and comes up short.

after the wedding, walked around for a while—that is, until i began to curse my multivariate lack of foresight: having succumbed to the *wearing* of the appropriate kind, i had not even brought shoeage to live by. so i opted for my *other* favourite exploratory technique, namely: taking random tramvaj/buses with wanton abandon, whose hope of getting lost is never actualised. in the process, i saw many old neighborhoods south and southeast of the city, residential in a manner that involves fewer apartment complexes or, at least, ones without the vertical imposition of those in Novi Beograd.

as i was walking, i saw the lit stained glass windows of a smallish Orthodox church and crept around the back to its entrance, where a service was in progress (so relieved to find *it* already happening, rather than the alternative). stood in the back and didn't appear to be breaching any voiceless consonants, so i stayed until the end. the cavernous ceiling was painted with rather frightening eschatological scenes: apart from those cast down by the mighty hand of judgment, even those raised up were carried with the ground on which they had been standing, complete with torn and dangling roots. those gathered around the table (of the Last Supper, presumedly) rather cowered with their chalii/challices, ahem, their drinking vessels. and the figure of Jesus was on a background all of red, with conical solids shooting out in all directions. the priest who managed the incense and bells was huge, dark-bearded (want to say "brooding Slav" just because, well, wouldn't you want to, too?), the other was old and stooped. with the assistants, they danced complicatedly, in and out of the 4 doors that led from before the alter to behind it. as the voices of the two cantors joined and separated, the small congregation mouthed words and performed, at times, an extended sign of the cross that seemed a concession to their standing—but a prostration nonetheless.

the sky was not exactly "overcast and black" by the time i made it back to downtown; instead, it was looking quite green in the westerly direction. rain started in earnest as i tried to remember where to catch the bus that would go sort of near my apartment. (further spiteful thoughts about shoes). packed on said bus with others thinking, probably, the same thoughts. the lightening over Novi Beograd (and my ever-visible building) was spectacular. exited bus into flood, so ran "barefoot" (at last, these gasping nylons have breathed their last) home. the light was out when i opened the door, so i bemusedly wondered whether the elevator would be working or whether 56 flights of stairs would be in my immediate future. they weren't.